I hear it, that far off humming from the other side of the driveway.
What’s that noise?
My family start hinting at the origin, somewhere nearby, but not too near.
We’re standing around, in the driveway, with the fresh cut scent of grass in the air.
“Ooh, don’t tell Kerry,” they say, dancing around something they see and I don’t. I know them pretty well and can probably guess.
***
This was no Winnie the Pooh cartoon. I remember his song about being a little black storm cloud, as he attempted to disguise himself in mud, so he could sneak honey from a tree, attempting to avoid detection by the swarm of bees.
This time, in this driveway, it was a favourite tree of my mom’s. The late afternoon warmth of the day made conditions just right for pollination.
This was a nightmare of mine.
Not pollination. I think that’s cool and all, for the bees, but it took some coaxing from my sister, to get me to walk close to the Eastern redbud tree, as the closer I came, the louder the sound of the bees. They were clearly occupied, more concerned with the flowers they were working on, and weren’t about to stop their very important duties, to all land on me, like they would if I were dreaming.
***
I back away hastily, nevertheless, just in case. The sound of a swarm of bees makes me shrink back. That sound gets me moving, faster than most anything else I might hear. Not the fault of the bees at all.
***
Yu know that fear you have that something in your own life will inevitably reoccur at night, in your dreams?
Of course, we don’t normally control that. The things, at least for me, which I fear could show up in my dreams at night never show up, just because I think they will. Always, it’s a surprise, for good or ill.
***
This week’s Finish the Sentence Friday post is about
and
***
I need to start a dream journal. If I were to do this, I would need to write them down the moment I wake up, because within minutes the memories fade, unless extremely vivid. I have had some of those over the years, of which some really crazy stories could have been written. Ah well.
**I’ve dreamed about clowns. *Shudders
**I’ve dreamed the standard one where I’m being chased.
**I’ve dreamed I was stuck at the bottom of the ocean.
**I’ve dreamed that I moved out to the west coast of Canada, to fulfill my long held dream of studying marine biology.
**Some good and some not so good dreams, for sure.**
**I’ve dreamt I was in an old house, one that smelled rancid, and when I awoke I could still smell it on the insides of my nostrils.
The putrid smell in the dream carried on into my day and I still get that happening on occasion. A strange mix-up of senses, experience, and consciousness.
***
To round off this week’s answer to the sentence I thought I would address one of the most commonly asked questions about blindness:
Do I see when I dream?
I don’t suddenly drift off each night and enter a totally sighted realm. I believe, most times, the brain can’t simply create images where none have been known. I could be wrong, not wanting to speak for all who can’t see, but it also depends on if you’ve been totally blind all your life or not. I have had more sight previously. Perhaps my brain can use a recall method, but mostly I don’t think about it. I can’t even really give a totally clear and concise answer.
You’d think it should be easy to say, but it’s not so black and white. More different variations of grey.
When I sleep, I dream in, from what I can recall, faded light. I think, as my sight seems to be less and less, that element of my dreaming hours becomes less and less important. I like the break I usually get though. In my dreams, I don’t worry about being treated differently. I don’t worry how I’m going to get somewhere, or if I have someone’s arm to guide me, or if I’ve suddenly ended up without my white cane. I just don’t care and, I must say, that break from reality is the best part of dreaming, no matter what I see or don’t see while I’m in the midst of it.
***
This song came on in a restaurant where I found myself eating lunch the other day.
Sailing – Christopher Cross
While I was sleeping, I dreamt his song. I like it. It takes me away somewhere when I hear it, sort of like a beautiful and a peaceful dream should.
Her Headache 
