Last week, I had this really wacky dream. I was somehow cast to be the substitute on a hockey team. [Note: I can’t skate even the tiniest bit.] The game was in overtime [Is it even called overtime in hockey? Hint at how little I know about this sport I play in my dreams.] and time is going in super slow motion. As people skate about the rink, I think to myself, “Which goal is ours? Did it switch? I don’t remember …” as I search wildly for any kind of clues. Suddenly – or as suddenly as things go in slow motion – the puck is in my possession. *insert naughty word* WHICH GOAL IS MY TEAM’S? *insert naughty word* I still don’t know so I take my best guess. Naturally, I guessed wrong. The team lost on my account. I woke up feeling absolutely terrible and being reminded why I cannot bear to play competitive team sports; I fear I will let people down. [Hello, Enneagram #2.]
While that is apparently what I dream of while wrapped in my warm quilts at night, not quite where I intend this blog post to dawdle. [Unless you want to hear about my dream of yellow shoes made of jell-o. That’s a classic.] Here are the other things I dream of, while my eyes are still open –
A hammock between two trees. Wherever I end up once my time is seminary is spent, may there be two trees close enough together to match the length of my Mexico hammock. Please, God, please. [I may need to invest in these to hang it more securely. Right now, it’s always a guessing game of how quickly the hammock with drape to the-butt-touching-ground height with slippery rope.]
Time to get lost in a book. [A friend posted this on facebook. It is wonderfully written, and captures my childhood love affair with books; a love affair I hope to rekindle once not a full-time student. If you’re a reader – or if you date one/are married to one, certainly click on over.]
That my thesis would write itself OR at least give me the time and energy to do so.
My future craft room. Seriously.
there's no place like gnome. 
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