Bridge Dreams

It's funny because *Mila* and I decided to talk about dreams.  Oddly enough we have both dreamed that Mr. Weatherbee, from Archie comics, is a serial killer.  I know it sounds hilarious.  But it's not.  Why is there something so strangely creepy about Mr. Weatherbee?

Then we started to discuss a common dream we both have:  Driving over bridges with our fathers; Driving through water with our fathers.  We want them to rescue us, but quite often we have to drive through the puddles, get a little wet, even muddy sometimes.  So, why do we both have these dreams?  I think I may have already answered this question.  We encounter "puddles" and obstacles in life.  We find bridges to cross, cars to cross the puddles in.  Sometimes we get wet.  Sometimes we make mistakes.  Sometimes we are just plain scared.  So, who better to protect us than our dads.

I'm a grown woman and yet, I still need the comfort to know that my dad will carry me through some "puddles" in life.  I also find it very comforting that my daughter finds comfort with my husband, *Steve*, her dad.

As for Mr. Weatherbee....stay tuned.

signed, the willow

What my dream office looks like

First off my dream office has white floors and white walls with 12 foot ceilings and an expansive wall of windows in a loft downtown somewhere, anywhere.

I choose to work from this desk here.

and sit in this faux leather chair here.

While I find all my neatly organized office material behind me here. That's my assistant's desk in the foreground.

I'll use this for my spreading out paper project. The project where you frantically spread all sorts of nice white fresh paper out and then tap it on the desk and put it back in that nice wall unit above.

I'll allow my visitors to sit in these chairs. They'll add a much needed splash of black.




My assistant can file things away in these.

I'll write all the latest news and messages on these glass noticeboards.

And I'll stare at Jenny Wilkinson wall strips. Maybe once and a while I'll doodle the ladybugs in purple and pink.

Of course at my dream office there will be no work done by anyone (but my imaginary assistant).

signed, the willow

Finding ways to work Brad Pitt into my day

There has been little time for much lately. And by much, I mean muchmusic, muchmoremusic, much food, much laughter, much anything. I skipped my treadmilling today like an experimented-on-hamster-on-a-perpetually-moving-wheel and my day is off now. Sometimes I think it may be the dream I had the night before that is distracting me. However, I wouldn't be so lucky. Brad Pitt was hanging out in a slummy old abandoned restaurant (which reminded me of the sparseness of a certain candy store from my home town) with his publicist. Hey, it seemed more realistic if a publicist was with him. He had this hat on and he smiled at me so kindly when I desperately asked him for an autograph. Then he wrote something for me on an old (1970s) children's storybook. It was pocketbook size and it seemed to have a pale green border framing the cover. Then he wanted to meet my family. So, now do you think we could find them. I was driving and searching all over this abandoned town looking for *Steve* and *Mila* with BRAD PITT! He was talking about his kids and how they were dealing with different issues at school. It was like he was just this everyday parent who loved his kids (I don't doubt that he does love his kids in real life - I'm quite sure he does). So what happened, you ask? Nothing. I woke up. No 'Fight Club;. No 'Meet Joe Black'. No 'A River Runs Through It'. I just woke up while *Steve* lay beside me twitching and the entire room was shuddering from his movements. Gawd! Why can't I ever get to the good part?

signed, the willow

Dreams

Right now, my dad and my husband are rolling their eyes. *Steve*, the husband of mine, claims that he has a wonky eye since he was a kid and had a bad cold and his eyes "fell asleep and never woke up". I'm guessing that the gypsies must have nabbed him and cast a spell on him.

My dreams from last night were a mixture of my life in all sorts of textures, colours and shapes. There were people from my past and the other half of my leg, aka *Mila*, is in almost all of my dreams. I have a recurring dream that I haven't had for quite a while and the other day *Mila* mentioned some dream of hers that was quite similar to it. Rooms connect without hallways. It has the dank, dark emptiness of a horror-filled old manor house, dormitory, or hospital. The most vivid part of the dream every time is going from one room to another and finding "the room". This is the room you know you have to enter (to get out of the maze of rooms?). I usually am forced by someone to sleep in this room. As I settle into the room, of course unsettled an old woman appears and her evil presence is over-whelming. I can suppress all sorts of things in my dreams. But when this old woman appears, she cannot be suppressed by me. She has come for me and she is the ultimate in evil. My mom has a very similar dream. Could we inherit a thought pattern or a memory? Does *Mila* now have this dream too? I have yet to share my dream with her for fear that my dreams and ideas will become hers.

I had another cat to post today....but the add image feature is not working for me. Nor is the spell-check!

signed, the willow

Where do dreams come from?

This morning when my little lovey woke up she immediately started to tell me what I thought was going to be a lengthy description of her dreams.

Instead she told me that she tried to dream of Cinderella and it just didn't come to fruition. Here is what she told me "I told Dad this and it's very important. Behind each and every feather in your pillow there is a dream waiting for you."

Who told her that? I haven't got to the bottom of it yet, but I will. Was it her own idea? Did her dad give her that thought? Who knows. She's probably been sent here by the aliens to keep us up at night for extended periods, rob us of our sanity and scream at such a high pitch that other alien-like creatures will hear her 75 kilometers from here.

signed, the willow

Indigo Dreams

Do you ever have those dreams that you can’t shake for the whole day? The type that has a “message” that you must do something about. About a month ago (well it was January 22nd to be exact) I had a very vivid and unexplained dream about a little blonde girl and she had been abducted or something had happened to her. I feel she was dead. It wasn’t my daughter. There was a silver car involved, distinct and important. The car was worth noting, but there was something very unusual about it. I was looking for this girl with my mom and a friend driving around in this pick-up truck. It was so vivid. We drove back and forth, up and down Front Street in Sioux Lookout looking for this girl. I could see her face in my mind in the dream and there was a man in the silver car. He did something to her, but I wasn’t sure if he was really bad or not. It was vivid and disturbing. I wrote it down in the morning and I had this sense it had really happened. It felt like something west coast to me. Vancouver or Washington.

Just this last week I had this need to google “indigo child” in the news. Up came a picture of this little girl. The same girl from my dream. She had been out in a schoolyard being towed around by her dad on an inflatable raft behind his pick-up truck. She of course had passed away tragically. Her spirit was so unique that they often described her as being the classic “Indigo Child”. I had the dream on January 22nd and her funeral was the 23rd. She died on January 16th and the accident happened in Washington. She was from Vancouver, Washington and had spent most of her life there. I knew there was something more to this dream that made it stand out. I felt like that little girl was calling me, trying to get me to do something or solve the mystery of her death.

http://www.columbian.com/news/localNews/01242007news96523.cfm


I wonder what the car had to do with my dream? Perhaps the teenager present at the accident had a silver car? Perhaps the raft or tube was silver?

http://www.columbian.com/obituaries/obitResults.cfm?date=01/21/2007

Her name was Madison Gecho and maybe Madison reached out to me to confirm something to me, I am an Indigo Child. Perhaps her message was delivered all over this world. Most disturbing to me is her grandmother’s nickname of Kiki. That is my nickname. Maybe I will never solve what she needed me to solve. Maybe I will be left with it haunting me. But there was an understanding in that dream. It wasn’t a dream. It carried a message and I knew it. So I wrote it down. I wouldn’t be the first person in my family to do this. Have such dreams. Would I?!

May Madison's spirit rest, for her return will be with her family again. Her old soul is alive and refuelling with spirit. She will come back to her loved ones. In true Indigo style and true Indigo determination.

signed, the willow