Dreams - Nothing More Than Wishes?

A view from Elm Lodge

“Dreams are nothing more than wishes and a wish is just a dream you wish to come true.”  Harry Nilsson, The Puppy Song.

If my recent dreams are anything to go by, I must have some very strange hidden wishes. Perhaps it is the effect of the lockdown and the pandemic or it might be that I’m eating too much chocolate during the evening – we’re still allowed a little pleasure – but I’m having some very vivid, weird dreams that can stay with me all day. Up to now I haven’t had nightmares or bad dreams, though I wake up during the early hours and feel immediately relieved that whatever was happening was only a dream.

Many years have passed since I worked in a primary school yet one night my sleep journey took me back there, where I was expected to take a Year 6 class and I was trying to explain to someone that there must be a mistake as I hadn’t been told and I wasn’t prepared. The person I was talking to was laughing and telling me I’d be fine. I was arguing that I’d come to work with infants in groups of six, not juniors in Year 6. I woke up before I was forced to face a class of enthusiastic eleven year olds. Phew.

I know that the trigger for that dream was a conversation I’d had with a friend and colleague from those happy days. Often there isn’t a reason.

In another dream I was on a swing, suspended from a great height, aware that one wrong move and I could fall. The swing was taking me too far backwards, so that my body was horizontal and my only safety was how tight I could keep hold of the chains attached to my seat. Something went wrong, of course, and I was falling with that horrible sinking feeling. Luckily, I woke up before I hit the ground, the sea, or whatever was below me.

Going to sleep, I think of happy things and my favourite places. I imagine myself travelling in a motorhome – I haven’t got one, but I don’t let that tiny detail spoil my fun – doing the North Coast 500 would be wonderful. Somehow, as I fall asleep, the gremlins get in and take over my dreams.

My poem, 

The View from the Lodge

Between the trees, the distant hills
Fade from green to grey.
I drink it in and take my fill
Of all I survey.

Beyond the gate the horses graze
In the lush pasture,
I’m happy to recline and laze,
At one with nature.

Paradise, where my soul belongs.
My dreams bring me here,
Surrounded by gentle birdsong
Any time of year.

PMW 2021

Thanks for reading, sweet dreams, Pam x

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Who You Gonna Call? - Not a Local M.P.

Who you gonna call?  Best friend? Tradesman?  I suppose it depends on the nature of the crisis, what anger needs venting or what message needs to be passed on, but it won’t be my local MP, that’s for sure.

I miss seeing my close friend. Isolating through this pandemic has prevented us from our usual stuff of meeting up, having train-trip days out and being ladies who lunch. Our lengthy phone calls have saved my sanity as we’ve discussed our families,  put the world to rights and talked about what we might do and where we might go when we can taste freedom.

We need our friends and we need our help network of doctor, dentist, RAC or similar and tradesmen. It’s good to have the numbers of known, reliable or well-recommended people to count on in times of need.

One morning we woke up to discover the bathroom floor awash. At some time since four a.m. – the time could be pin-pointed because it was fine when one of us nipped to the loo – the bracket holding the concealed toilet cistern had broken. The cistern dropped below the ballcock, so water continued to run. The wet bathroom was nothing compared to the room below, where water streamed down the wall, dripped along the ceiling and gushed from the light-fitting. The new carpet was sodden and the wallpaper had taken on a bubble effect.  Hearing the voice of our regular plumber on the other end of the phone was bliss. Within the hour he had diagnosed the problem, fetched parts and fixed it, our hero. The Vax worked wonders on the carpet and the wall, ceiling and light were left to dry out.

Another time, we had an electrical problem. It is going back a bit to when both kids were at home. Everyone could smell something horrid in the hallway. Everyone except me – I have no sense of smell. The meter cupboard is there and was thought to be the culprit, except that everything was fine, nothing felt hot, no sign of a problem, no dead rat. The smell was described as fishy and strong. I remembered that sort of smell coming from a plug socket in one of the places I’d lived, which turned out to be a problem with the wiring and nearly caused a fire. We sent for the electrician. The problem, for indeed there was one, turned out to be wrong wiring for the electric shower. We hadn’t made the connection of the smell being apparent when the shower was in use. It needed a higher current cable. Having it replaced led to us having a modern fuse box installed. The expense was worth the peace of mind.

Sometimes, it isn’t a professional we need, it’s the comforting voice of a family member or friend, especially if there’s a bit of news worth sharing, or wanting someone else’s opinion on something. I’ve been feeling angry the last few days. I’m not alone. I have a strong dislike, even hatred for my local MP, well, perhaps that’s unfair because I don’t know the man, but I hate everything he stands for and the party he belongs to. He’s wound me up previously on a work-related matter that I can’t share – I wish I could – but this time he’s gone for broke. He should be aware of his constituency and therefore the extent of needy families in this town. I’m furious because he voted against free meals for children during school holidays.

I definitely need to call my friend. She’ll understand.

My poem, A Question to a Local Conservative MP

Perhaps I should phone you

But what would I say

Without extreme fury

Getting in the way?

 

I don’t want to be a troll

Swiping out at you.

I want to know the reasons

Behind what you do.

 

Some fam’lies in this town

Need a helping hand.

They are your constituents,

Don’t you understand?

 

Don’t you want to help the kids?

Tell me, are you blind?

I’m aware of the hardship

Made worse by your kind.

 

Take a good look at yourself.

Liking what you see?

Misguided by the Tories

Is how you look to me.

 

PMW 2020

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x 

  

 

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