If I could dream myself to any place I’d like to be, I’d love to open my eyes looking down on the shore of Lake Superior from the Pictured Rocks limestone cliffs. It would still be quite chilly so bugs would not be an issue. And since I’m dreaming I’d bring Ashok so she could run along the cliffs of that magical shore. To hell with the rules. It’s my dream.
I open my backpack at the campsite and throw my tent. After getting my cozy sleeping bag set up in a way that will be inviting to my tired and worn out body, I warm some water for hot chocolate, grab a blanket and head to the beach. Sunshine beams across the waves to welcome me as I walk along the rocky beach searching for pretty stones.
Ashok runs quickly into the water and right back out as the cold hits her. Her smile is as wide as her face, and her eyes shine with excitement. I find a soft place to sit on a smooth rock and watch the waves roll in. I stir the marshmallow into my hot chocolate and lick my fingers. Tucking my blanket around my legs and shoulders, I find myself a cross-legged seat. Memories of the day flash through my mind as I compose a blog that might never be penned.
A young hiker walks past, immersed in his exercise. We wave at each other. Kindred souls are connected at an energetic level. Words are redundant. A stiff breeze blows in, and I shiver. I suck down the last bit of marshmallow and chocolate sludge in my cup. Why does that cup get empty so fast I wonder. I pack up my dog and my blanket to head back to the campsite.
My little stove lights easily as I boil water for Katherine’s chicken and dumplings – backpacking-style. The chicken broth and soft dumplings comfort and warm me while I watch the squirrels run past my makeshift kitchen. A little bird chatters his disapproval at my devouring the chicken. The sun begins to set beyond the trees. I wish I had the energy to go see it, but instead I pack up my food, hang it from a tall tree and snuggle up in my tent with a book about a woman adventurer.
An owl hoots. In the distance, a wolf howls. Ashok snores. I breathe. I hope the bears don’t like chicken and dumplings. A stick snaps, and I jump. I snuggle into my sleeping bag and close my eyes to the sounds of the night. Sleep, though not sound, comes quickly.
Outside a car door slams. Darn. I am awake and in my living room. It must have been a dream…. or was it?