Writing a blog can be a blessing in one’s life.  The ability to put your thoughts down in writing is a gift and not to be taken lightly.  Some blogs come easily where others are a struggle and are finished through discipline and experience.  I blog about what I know, but rest assured there are others with the same, if not superior, knowledge of the subject.  I might find a pithier way of saying it, but I’m not world’s leading expert on anything.  Or am I?  

I can say with pride that I am the world’s leading “Me” expert.  I have access to all my thoughts, a real insider’s view!  More so, I can reveal secrets, known by no one and exclusive.  My recall for old dreams is unusual and I still remember dreams from when I was a little kid.  I wonder how many of you remember dreams clearly.  For me, time has not dulled my recall of several dreams and feel as I was growing up that the dream world was unbelievably close at hand.

I was eight or so, and the dream starts in a most horrible fashion.  My home was being attacked by a giant T-Rex.  Ripping at the roof of the house, with my room closest to the attack.  There is dust and debris around my room, and I crawl into the closet.  Another ear-piercing roar by the dinosaur and my heart is beating out of my chest.  I see the outline of the T-Rex’s head coming towards the closet.  Death is near. I quickly slide down the escape pole and it takes me to the “Fantasticar,” the hover car used in the 60’s Fantastic Four cartoon.  We zoom out above the beast.  In the car is The Thing, Human Torch, my grandma as The Invisible Girl (they had the same hairstyle), and me.  Using my ray gun, the four of us defeat the dinosaur, but as the battle starts, the dream fades.  I remember feeling safe around The Invisible Girl.

It’s the first week of my sophomore year of college.  I’m arriving driving my red car.  I greet my friends and settle in my dorm, but it’s an apartment I lived in my junior year.  I feel excitement being with my friends, it feels like it’s been a long time over the summer.  We greet and break out the bong.  All my best friends are there, and we get high.  For the next few hours we all get ready for a party.  We get dressed and laugh about how great the party is going to be.  As we drive, the dream ends, and I wake knowing that that was 30 years ago. Why does it feel so close?  If I close my eyes, I can almost reach out and touch them.  I weep for the man I used to be, he is long gone, lost in the moments of time and dreams.

It’s the middle of the night and I’m at my grandparent’s apartment on East 57th Street in Manhattan.  The apartment is done in gold and I’m in the living room, sleeping on the couch.  The grandfather clock ticks away and I listen to the noises of the taxi cabs as they race through the night.  I sit up and look around. The painting of my mother from when she was a teenager hangs on the wall next to me.  I stare at the picture wondering what my mom was like when she was young? I get up to look at giant grandfather clock, 3am, still hours to anyone waking!   I return to my couch and look out the window. The movie theater’s marquee glows red and I look down from my 10-floor perch. The cars zoom by and they look so small.  I have no clue what they could be doing in the middle of the night, or where they could be going.  I lie back on my make-shift bed and feel longing to be with my grandparents.  My grandfather was always up first, and I looked forward to his musty good morning hug. The night never seems to end, but the dream does.

Not a month goes by that these dreams don’t invade my sleeping mind.  Like some guidepost to a hidden treasure, these dreams remain over time.  I have always respected the power of dreams and have always felt that their presence is the minds gift to deal with the unstopping torrent of time.  To be so close to a place that is made of pure thought in quite a profound thing.  I go to sleep each night wondering where I will go in my next sleep time journey?