I Dreamed a Dream, age 18

May 23, 2006: An excerpt from my journal

 

 

Not expensive cars or a massive house, but being able to create a home.

 

I dream of Bed Bath & Beyond and brightly colored towels.

Trash cans and clocks.

Curtains and carpets.

Candles and paintings.

Oh, how I dream of paintings.

Paintings I love, that I can stare at and get lost in.

 

I dream of bright mismatched glasses--no two the same,

and plates just similar enough to stack.

I dream of new pots and pans without years of wear,

and lamps lighting every corner with soft-colored glows.

 

I dream of houseplants.

and mirrors

and pillows

and bedspreads.

I dream of a welcome mat at my very own door.

 

I dream of a tree with a swing and a soft patch of grass

where I can lie in the summer and look through the golden-lit leaves.

 

I dream of jumping into leaf piles.

 

 

I dream of bookmarks and book ends and making them myself.

I dream of creating art.

 

I dream of fresh fruit and fresh flowers and baguettes with jelly.

A hammock and notebooks and brightly colored paper.

 

 

I dream of seed packets.

I dream of silk scarves.

 

Of fountains.

Of gardens.

Bird houses and wind chimes.

Chinese lanterns and backyard parties.

 

 

I imagine wedding invitations and reading out loud.

  

 

I dream of thank you notes and Christmas cards.

Ice skating and malls bustling in December.

I dream of Christmas ornaments and a live tree.

I dream of wrapping paper and a fireplace’s glow.

I dream of perfume bottles on a glass tray like my mother’s.

 

Feathers and sticky notes.

 

Wedding pictures.

 

Warm tea on a cold night wrapped in a blanket on a couch that isn’t avocado colored or orange.

 

I dream of being intimate, but still having space.