Last night we watched the opening ceremony of the London Olympics (or at least as much of it as we could stay awake for). It was rumored that the show would include a gaggle (herd? flock?) of Mary Poppinses (Poppinsi?) doing battle with a giant Voldemort. This sounded so ridiculous, I had to see it.
Of course, it all made sense in context. It was part of the collective dream of hundreds of British children dancing on their beds. Hundreds of British children can produce some mighty strange dreams.
When I woke up this morning, I was having a strange—and wonderful—dream about my Grandfather and Grandmother Logue. They had driven to California to visit us—strange in itself, as my grandfather died when I was in high school, and my grandmother died several years before we moved here.
I asked if I could get them anything to drink, and my grandfather asked for a beer. I thought my grandmother would disapprove—as I recall, she disapproved of a lot of things—but she was nothing but smiles and hugs and "I love you's."
I went to the refrigerator and began to pour a beer for my grandfather and one for myself. I loved my grandfather. I was devastated when he died my senior year in high school. I regretted that I never got the chance to talk to him man-to-man. Now, I was finally going to get that chance.
Then I woke up.
Dreams can be strange and wonderful. They can also break your heart.
These dreams of you,
So real and so true...