Paper Dreams

Just before I went to bed last night, I added water to a clean kitty litter bucket that was loosely filled with shredded paper and stirred it with my hands. It felt kind of nasty. I wondered if I could deal with the textures in this, my first attempt at making paper.

Today, I am stirring with a wooden spoon, a.k.a. magic wand, to stir in words of affirmation spoken in my dreams.

I did not expect to dream of making paper sprinkled with dried petals and such, even though that is what I plan to do. I did not expect to dream of conversations while making paper with those long come and gone, both living and dead. Tis a bit sad when the man who claimed to never dream wanders into mine as there is no reciprocation. Yes, I want mutual haunting.

I woke myself up by speaking a word of affirmation out loud, then drifted back into the same dreams. I don’t remember what it was, but I’m sure to recognize it if I see or hear it. That word, whatever it was, must have some kind of significance.

We talked about making affirmation cards on homemade papers in the second or third dream.

It’s unusual to have a dream that continues all night long, despite several awakenings. And even more unusual to wake up feeling so peaceful and refreshed, as if it was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. I savored the sensation and drifted out again.

The last dream was a bit odd. He who cannot dream visited mine, but instead of him being an elusive figure off in a crowd, we sat and talked for awhile, comfy as old friends. He gave me a stack of worn jeans to weave into rag rugs. I asked if he was still alive. The dream ended with me walking alone into a town hall meeting carrying just my own folded jeans, feeling vulnerable and exposed with bare legs and beige underwear, looking for an empty seat.

Now, if I could just remember that word… whatever it was, may his mother’s wooden spoon stir it in.

Thanks for reading!

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