I woke up yesterday singing the Electric Slide. What on earth was I dreaming about the night before?
I've been thinking about dreams quite a bit lately. Not really the kind that have you gliding to silly group dance songs, but more those that ignite the engines and cause real change.
My children are really inquisitive, downright nosey, (where did they get that from, seriously? :) ), and M has taken note that I've been toting around a little blue journal lately with one word on the cover - dream. "What's that for, Mommy?" Excited me, hoping to give a meaningful mom response: "It's a notebook I keep with me to capture all my great ideas before I lose them." M: "Yeah, you do forget a lot." She's always honest.
Sometimes I expect my journals to be sketchbooks, well designed and interesting to the eye.
I allowed myself to choose only from the dollar bins at the art store because I didn't want the kind of journal that looks pretty with a layer of dust. My dream journal is low stakes. So far it's captured books to read, lists of blog ideas, projects I want to take on, and little inspires. I've given myself permission to let it look uninteresting to the unsuspecting onlooker.
But for you, dear reader, here are two memorables that made it into the pages this week.
Thoreau is so good.
And another that I'm blowing your way on a great dandelion fluff...