Dream a Little Dream ...and Make it a Big Dream

This is the story that was printed in the newspaper...along with a second part after the "waiting begins". Hope you all like it. Tell me what you think. Don't worry, I can take it. I might add that originally the story was complete with the "waiting begins" part but the editor wanted a second part, or continuation, in order to have a follow up printing. Like a series I guess. Which means I had to rethink another ending beyond the first ending. Wasn't easy and I'm not sure the second ending really fits the story as a whole plus I wrote it about two years ago so the groove I was in at the time just isn't here now. At any rate, here it is. You all (if you are still here) might remember the first part of this story from few years ago. 

Dream a Little Dream
Lee Ann Fleetwood
As the last page slips into the tray she gathers the pile up, straightens them up, and lays them down on her desk. She sits awhile just looking at them and not thinking a whole lot about anything much. For the moment the "what if" game is being silent and her thoughts are wispy things that have no substance.

She reaches over and takes the single white envelope from the edge of the desk and writes an address on it and then her own. She picks up the papers and starts to slide them inside but hesitates. After a moment she sits back with the papers and once again begins to read what she has written though she has read it many times already. It has been a long time in coming making the journey from the darkest recesses of her mind to the white pristine papers in her printer.
As each word of each line skims across her vision her mind instantly plays out the scenes of her life; the good, the not so good, and the ones she wishes she could forget, but of course, that will never happen. Some things are with you forever.

She reaches the end and once again straightens the pages into an orderly pile and slips them into the waiting envelope. Along with the papers she inserts her hopes and dreams that within these pages her future lies. That the events of her life will finally have meaning because to believe it had none is more than she can bear.

She lays the envelope down while she dresses but can't help looking over now and then and realizes the power that is contained within those pages. The power to change her life the thought frightens her nearly as much as it sparks a bright light of hope within her heart.

She slips on her jacket and collects her keys then walks over and stands in front of her desk looking down. The sudden urge to just chuck the whole thing in the garbage can at her feet is so strong she realizes her hand is already reaching out to do just that before she can stop it. She snatches it back and takes a deep breath. A small pep talk was in order and she gives it and listens patiently to it before grabbing the envelope quickly and heads for the door.

As she sits in her car she tosses it carelessly into the passenger seat almost as an afterthought. If she dwells too long on its importance she feels she will lose herself in the enormity of what she is about to do and, of course, back out while she still can. Backing out is NOT an option. Just start the car and get moving.

Traffic is sufficient to require concentration but she still manages to steal a glance or two at the seat next to her. The closer she gets to her destination the harder her heart pounds until eventually she can hear neither the sounds of traffic nor the negative voice in her head that has been her constant companion these long lonely years.
She pulls up into the parking lot, snatches the envelope, and quickly enters the building as if the hounds of hell are on her heels. She can't help but glance over her shoulder just to make sure it IS just her imagination.

She arrives at the counter and thrusts the envelope that contains her life at the surprised employee. Almost instantly she starts to grab it back as if discovering her child in the arms of a stranger. She catches herself, steps back from the counter and plasters a smile on her face to put the cautious employee at ease, or so she hopes.

“Uhm, can I help you,” he asks?

“Yes, I would like to send that by registered mail,” she answers quickly. She is pretty sure she sounds normal, at least to her ears, though they are full of the sound of her beating heart.

“Ok. Fill out this paperwork and that will be $6.80 and it should be there by Thursday,” he says as he places a sticker on her life and sets it behind him on the outgoing mail shelf. She looks at it sitting there and can't help but imagine the little adventure it is about to embark on. Once again the analogy of a child comes to mind. Her child is venturing out into the world and she won't be there to keep it safe. Her heart not only pounds but squeezes too with pain and trepidation.

She quickly looks away before the tears that threaten start to fall. You would think she had just laid baby Moses in a basket preparing to push him off into the unknown waters the way she felt.

She fills out the paper work and pays the fee then turns to walk away. She can't help but look one more time at her hope for the future lying there so innocently on the shelf. Such power in that envelope, she is amazed there isn't some sign, almost biblical in nature that would indicate the essence of what those pages contain.

She gets back in her car and starts the engine. Buckles her seat belt then turns the radio on. Checks her mirrors before pulling out and heads for home and it is only then that she allows herself to dream a little dream.

And the waiting begins...

Once she reaches home the real waiting begins. Even though she is aware that it could be days, weeks, even months before her intense pangs of labor bear fruit, she cannot help but count every moment of that unknowable future. She will ignore for the moment the possibility that she will never hear a single word about the package containing her dreams for her future and that it could end its short unassuming life lying forgotten and collecting dust in some storage room somewhere. Hardly worth thinking about so has shut that train of thought down instantly whenever it rears its ugly head.  

She gets on with the business of living her life as best she can. Working a dead end job that does nothing to satisfy her desires but pays her bills, what more could one ask for? Days filled with numerous trips to her local bookstore and library to fill her restless need to live an exciting full filling life even if it’s vicariously through someone else’s version of it. She wakes in the morning and falls seamlessly, if not contentedly, into sleep every night having managed to not let her gaze rest too long on the passing days as noted by the kitty calendar hanging in her kitchen.

She keeps busy doing lots of seemingly important things mixed with utterly pointless things. Rinse and repeat, and the days pass. Then weeks pass and slowly weeks turn into months. Turning the page of the calendar from one month to the next has become a ritual that is accomplished with a deep cleansing sigh and a mental kick in the pants to not give up, not just yet. Patience got her through her childhood of fear filled days and terrifying nights and patience saw her through a very long marriage to a very unkind man. Patience was her best friend and soul companion when all others had walked away or simply forgotten she existed. Patience had not let her down so far and she was more than thankful for that small spark of optimism in her life.

If you asked her later about the day she received the call she had been waiting for all her life, a call that started its process of reaching out to her way back in her childhood when every step she took and every action for or against her lead her through her life for better or worse up to that very moment she was meant to answer an unrecognized number, she would say it was among one of the best and worst days of her life. A life filled with a great many worst days but very few best ones.

She was on the side of the road staring down at a flat tire, already very late for a work related meeting, Her dress, torn from a grasping needy edge on the car door and a newly minted speeding ticket tossed angrily onto the passenger seat were just the latest in a day full of “should of stayed in bed” moments. By the time she answered her mobile with an exasperated frustrated sigh hissed through clenched teeth, she was already mentally preparing herself to do battle with whatever new foe was bringing even more bad news; however, the proverbial straw for this particular camel’s back was not in her cards for today. Oh no, not today. Today that camel was about to lighten its straw filled load considerably if she had only known.

“Hello,” she nearly yelled into the phone.

“Hello,” replied a somewhat hesitant voice. “Is this Renee Miller?’

She realized she needed to calm down and not take her escalating bad mood out on the poor stranger who chose to call her at the worst possible moment. “Yes,” she replied in a calm even voice. “Who is this?”

“Hello, Mrs. Miller. This is William Conner calling from Blue Moon Publishing Company. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?” he answered with no hesitation at all in his voice now.

At the exact moment that he uttered the words Blue Moon Publishing it would seem the world came to a sudden and quiet end for it simply ceased to exist for her. She heard nothing, saw nothing, was aware of absolutely nothing other than the crashing thundering sound of a heartbeat that appeared to have forgotten how to function like a heartbeat should. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing at all came out. She closed her mouth and continued to live in a world that no longer existed for a few more crashing thundering heartbeat filled moments.

“Yes,” she replied again but gone was the calm even voice. This yes was little more than a breath filled release.

He rapidly started speaking but she only heard the odd word here and there accompanied by an odd tapping in the back ground. Somewhere in her mind she pictured this unknown William Conner tapping a pen against the edge of his desk, possibly with his feet propped up somewhere along its smooth surface. Words that did manage to pierce her fog filled mind included, “wonderfully written “emotionally powerful”, and “best seller”. Those two words evaporated the fog instantly and the world came crashing back into focus.

“What did you just say? Could you repeat that please?” she asked with a voice full of fear, incomprehension, and yes, hope. Hope that she hadn’t just miss heard him in the absolutely worst way possible and that this small flame of hope was going to quickly be stamped out before the much needed oxygen of life was breathed into it.  She pressed the phone painfully against her ear to drown out every other sound, including her own still thundering heartbeat. “Could you repeat that please,” she asked with as calm a voice as she could muster.

“No problem. I said that we received your manuscript and we are very excited about it. We at Blue Moon don’t usually say this to potential clients on the phone during a first contact call but Mrs. Miller, you just may have a best seller on your hands,” he answered with a touch of laughter in his voice. “We would very much like you to meet with us and discuss the publishing of your book.”+

“Really? You want to meet with me?” she asked tremulously. Not daring to believe that her dream was about to become reality. Possibly. Maybe.  “About publishing my book?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he asked. “It’s a beautifully written book, at least the chapters we have are so let’s assume the rest will follow suit. Could you come see me next Monday at our offices at 9:00 a.m...? Will that be fine?”

“Yes,” she nearly shouted once again but this time from within a bubble of exploding happiness. “Yes, that would be perfect.” Was it possible that all the pain she had suffered in her life, the loneliness and oceans of tears, the dark days that accumulated into dark years occasionally brightened with lightning strikes of happiness was about to finally mean something beyond she just had been dealt a bad hand? Were the hours and days and months spent pouring her grief and pain into her computer while keeping a box of tissues nearby that constantly needed replacing at last going to MEAN something beyond her life just sucked? She was beginning to think maybe it did. If it meant nothing more than her story might affect others in some way that benefited them to some degree than her life did mean something, at least to her, and that was a feeling she had needed to know all her life. The smile beginning on her face felt strange and out of place but also very good.

“Great,” he said. Monday at 9:00 it is. See you then.” He hung up and several moments passed before she closed her phone as well. The flat tire, the torn dress, the late appointment all seemed to fade away as she contemplated Monday at 9:00 a.m. and the impossible possibilities. Several cars passed by and the amused drivers were treated to the vision of a woman in her 40’s with long red hair in a blue flowery dress twirling happily with arms stretched out and her face raised up to the sun. A very odd reaction indeed for someone with a flat tire who looked like she needed to be somewhere important.

New Year 2014. Last one was damn rough...time for something a little different.

2012 was one of my worst years yet since I divorced. No lie. I made some very bad choices, burned some much needed bridges, and generally just set myself on a destructive course that nearly had me in the black for good. 2013 was mostly spent trying to do damage control with varying degrees of success depending on who you asked. If you ask me, I wouldn't mind forgetting 2012 all together and parts of 2013 can follow right along, thank you. 

However, I didn't die from any of those bad choices so I will assume that means I still have time to do better and be better. A work in progress. Good days and bad days rub shoulders and have me on that emotional roller coaster ride that never seems to have an end. I have cried a lot and laughed little. I have spent more times just sitting doing nothing other than beating myself up over all those bad choices that just kept coming rather than do something about them...but eventually I caught on and started doing something. Too little too late? As I said, I'm not dead yet so let's assume the answer is no. 

I seriously need to start writing again. I keep saying I will and then let things get in the way even though this empty space is running like a ticker tape through my head day and night. It begs to be filled and my fingers itch to fill it but my mind just gets in the way and makes excuses...never seem to run out of those. 

Anyhow, my one resolution, if I must, is to get back to writing. I need to fill the empty spaces with words that won't stop in my head until they are written down. I need to finish that story I started awhile back that some of you may remember and I need to figure out how to make my writing work for me because I stopped writing and I started spiraling. I see a connection yet I couldn't seem to stop it or fix it. My goal is to write at least one post a week, more if properly motivated. Whether my readers come back or not is immaterial...I always did write just for me but the positive feedback was always nice. 

So here I am, 2014. Not dead yet. Not out for the count. Long as I wake up every morning then I have been given another chance to do better than the day before. Let's see if I have enough sunrises left to undo the destructive sunsets that are behind me? 

Wish me luck. 

Grandma Coolred...how awesome is that?

 Maya Rashid AlJuma March 24, 2013

During my long absence my oldest daughter had the nerve to make me a grandmother without so much as asking me. As I said...what nerve. She was due around March 23 and thus I made it my goal to be with her during one of the most terrifying wondrous moments of her life. I was alone for the birth of all 5 of my babies so I know what it feels like to not have a hand to hold or someone to calm me down...I didn't want her to feel that way even for a moment. 

Of course I told her I wouldn't be able to make it because I simply didn't have the money for such an expensive ticket. She believed me...so gullible.

I got busy on my side, ensuring I had a month off from work (all my coworkers seemed as excited as I was by the prospect of me becoming a gramma...ancient jokes were in abundance) and I waited impatiently for my tax return to show up. It was the only way I could afford to go but it was taking it's damn sweet time and time was running out on me if I was going to make it there before she delivered. 

Now here is the thing. Other than my kids over here...and coworkers of course...I told nobody that I was going to Bahrain...not even my best friend there. The only person I did tell was someone I knew who wouldn't spill the beans..so he could pick me up at the airport. (well that didn't work out as well as I hoped but what to do?)

My daughter constantly made comments about wanting me there and how she was getting so nervous and worried. I told myself if she really did start to freak out I would ensure her I was coming to calm her down...but that point never arrived so all was good. The day I left I constantly texted her and everyone over there all the way across the U.S. until I lost contact in the air. By this time my best friend sort of had a clue of my intentions as I would see in all the texts back and forth later...but she wasn't positive. 

I arrived in Bahrain after a torturous 23 hour flight all together. I was exhausted...and to make matters worse...my expected ride was no where to be found. My phone had discharged at this point so I couldn't even see his number to call him. I still wanted to surprise my daughter but wasn't sure what to do at this point. My plan wasn't working out...grrr.

I ended up waiting about an hour before I decided he wasn't coming (I was the only red head in a sea of dark haired people..he wasn't there or he would have seen me) so I decided to take a taxi to best friends house. Surprise her...then go to daughter's house and let the party begin. 

By the time I got to best friends house it was fairly late..and she wasn't there. I spoke with her housemaid who ensured me she would be coming soon...so I hid in her ladies salon where I could see when she arrived. Unfortunately, her housemaid wasn't very good at keeping secrets and sort of let the cat out of the bag as soon as best friend arrived. So much for surprises...grrr. 

She was surprised, to a point, but had a feeling I was coming over and so expected me as well. By this time it was quite late and since my daughter was late stage pregnancy and didn't need middle of the night surprises...I decided to wait until morning to spring my awesome self on her. I spent the night at best friend's house and anticipated the morning's adventures. 

A little bit of back story at this point. I had told my daughter previously that I bought a lot of baby things for her...but would mail a box to her and hopefully it would arrive on a certain date (my arrival date no less). She was constantly asking me if I had mailed the box and I told her be patient. So the next morning my best friend calls her and tells her SHE had the box..as I had actually mailed it to her...not my daughter. My daughter was sort of miffed at that but was happy just to know it arrived..and told best friend to bring it over. 

When we arrived at daughter's house...best friend knocked on door and indicated that the box was so big a man from the street was carrying it for her to the door. As I sprung around the corner..my daughter was standing there with a very skeptical look on her face at this point...but it immediately dissolved into a pool of tears as soon as she saw me. I quickly realized how relieved she was to have me there..and I was very happy that I had decided to come despite the crazy cost of the ticket. 

After celebrating we got down to the business of waiting for baby to arrive. She still had about a week to incubate so we shopped, and readied baby room and just enjoyed the next few days while baby was still on the inside (always the best place for them). 

During prenatal visits the doctor kept mentioning C-sections and epidurals as choices my daughter  could consider and I was rather irritated by that. Why not promote natural birth first and foremost...why even bring those up unless the need was very apparent? By this point baby was being just a tad stubborn and delayed her arrival by a few days so induction was talked about. My daughter decided March 24th would be the day to get baby moving. We waited for that day to arrive with bated breath and mixed feelings of Fear and Finally it would be over with. 

The morning of the Big Day we arrived at the hospital very early in the morning and daughter was settled in and prepped for an I.V. etc. to begin the process. She was scared but I could also see that she was very relieved to have me there..along with her husband. I might add at this point that her husband is a wonderful man and was there every step of the way with her (as much as he could be). Always attending her prenatal visits...always very interested in what she was going through and doing whatever he could to ensure her comfort and calm state of mind. They chose a private hospital that would allow him to be with her during the whole birth process as well and he was with her every moment. I like him a lot. 

When her doctor arrived...she still brought up a possible C-section and epidural..even though my daughter was doing fine up to this point. Yes she was experiencing pain but she was handling it well..so what the hell? I talked with my daughter and advised her to do what she thought was best but that natural birth was the best choice unless something warranted such actions. She seemed intent on doing it the natural way...which didn't seem to please her doctor for some reason.

My best friend arrived at some point and we all spent the morning listening to the fetal monitor, getting my daughter whatever she needed..and counting the minutes down. She was very slow in dilating, was experiencing more and more contraction pain, but was doing OK. Once again the doctor came in and advised her to consider a C-section or epidural. Her comment was that she didn't think my daughter could handle the pain...which was odd considering that's exactly what she was doing up until this point. My daughter told her...I'm fine right now. Give me a chance to do it this way. 

Shortly before noon, as we were all gathered around, my daughter (while suffering through more intense contractions at this point) suddenly demanded we get the nurse. It seemed the urge to push had just arrived. The nurse came and did a pelvic check and was surprised to learn that my daughter had went from barely 2 cm over several hours to 7 cm in no time flat. Suddenly things got serious and nurses came in preparing to take her to the delivery room. 

Best friend and I waited just outside the delivery room for awhile...alternating between crying and excitement...waiting impatiently for good news. Her doctor came out at one point and said we could go in if we wanted. Wow...that was awesome. I didn't think I would be able to be with her..just near her...at that point. We put on gowns and hurried into the room. 

Daughter was concentrating on her moment in the limelight...SIL was holding her hand and doing his part to keep her calm...and the nurses were running around like those last few minutes before the curtain was drawn and the show began was at hand. 

Best friend and I elected to stand just behind the curtain since it was close enough to offer support but not in the way of all the activity. We shouted encouragement to her every step of the way..until we eventually heard what we had all been waiting anxiously for 9 months to hear...the indignant cries of a new life brought into the world. 

We were all crying, excited, and overwhelmed...but not too overwhelmed that we didn't record the moment when new baby Maya was brought over to the table for her first check up. It's an awesome video that I would have loved to have with any one of my own children. Oh well..sign of how things are changing in Bahrain from the 80's. For the better in some regards. 

At some point my daughter looked at her doctor and told her...see, I did it without drugs or anything. I proved you wrong. That's my girl. Don't let the doctors bully you into unneeded procedures unless it's absolutely necessary. Everything and everyone came through with flying colors. 

And  I was a new grandma. Grandma Coolred. How awesome is that?

I spent the next two weeks helping daughter with whatever she needed but she assured me that she had a perfect example on motherhood due to her own mother. She had this. Very cool. A million pictures and a hundred videos later...I was sad to see my day of departure arrive. I had to say goodbye to my two kids, my new granddaughter, SIL, and best friend that I love so much. It was the first time I had ever found it hard to leave Bahrain. Imagine that. All it took was a new little baby to make that happen...well not just that...but more on that later. 

So little Maya is well over a month old now...thriving and keeping her parents on their toes. I get lots of daily pics and videos still and share them with everyone who doesn't run away at this point. My daughter is planning a trip here so her siblings can see their new niece and her husband can visit the states for the first time. I can't wait to see them. 

I will make an effort to be in Maya's life because my own children did not have that sort of connection with their own grandmother (thought hind sight tells me they didn't miss out on much but at the time it was very hurtful to me)...plus I have so many things to teach this precious little girl. Sarcasm and a sharp tongue being top of the list...as self defense against the Stupids of the world.

 It's the least I can do. 

 

Happy 5th of July!!

Yesterday was our Independence Day....a day of celebrating getting rid of those pesky Brits and commemorating it by eating too much, getting sunburned and blowing shit up. American traditions at their finest.

My personal memories of 4th of Juy's of years gone by are pretty much the same. I would get a skin searing sunburn that would leave me moving like a robot, unable to sleep, and vowing to never leave myself open to another one...yet doing it again the following year. Lessons are not always learned the hard way...or any way.

Another memory is of my mother sitting on the ground among a pile of fireworks and basically lighting and throwing them in various directions. Considering she was the first certified female blaster for the coal company she worked for back then...I wonder what they would have thought about her complete disregard for safety precautions...not to mention the precedent she was setting for her children regarding fireworks and safety?

One year my older sis got a very large chunk of her calf removed by daring to light a firecracker and dropping it into a coke bottle with every intention to be far enough away to escape the resulting explosion...unfortunately she did not consider that short fuses generally do not wait for you to place the bottle carefully down before turning and running for your life. The blood was impressive...so were her screams.

I remember the time I was cleaning my bedroom and suddenly smelled a burning odor. I looked around and saw an object on the floor and was reaching down to pick it up (thinking it was trash as I was in my cleaning mode) when it suddenly exploded a mere inch or so from my outstretched fingers. While my heart was debating whether or not it was going to continue beating and sustaining my young life...I heard my father and little sis out in the hallway laughing themselves to death. Apparently father had thrown the firecracker at me to scare me with the resulting boom...I wonder whose fault it would have been if I had actually managed to pick the darn thing up before it exploded?

One 4th my mother's company held a picnic for employees and families. My father declined to come, better for us, and I spent the day watching the effects when alcohol, fireworks, and insanity are mixed. I remember this particular picnic the most because our next door neighbor then, who also worked with my mother, got annoyed by something I did (he was drinking and I was playing horseshoes..I cannot remember what it was I did that irritated him...but being 13 who knows)..at any rate the end result was him giving me a full open handed slap across my face. (my jaw would hurt for 2 weeks after that) I ran to my mother sobbing and she did what she always did...covered up my abuse...only this time she hid it from my father..not for him. She assumed he would go after our neighbor...and she was probably right. While he felt he had every right in the world to abuse us....so help the man who thought the same.

Back to my epic sunburns as one in particular stands out. The last one I suffered through (before the one I got when Bahrain experienced a full scale blackout one summer...another story I may have told at some point on this blog) I was 14 and decided for some ungodly reason to wear a tank top for the very first time to the city picnic....sans sunscreen of any kind. (up to this point in time I was a t-shirt girl...never exposing anything more than my lower arms to the sun) My very white innocent skin on my shoulders, arms, chest, and back...were simply burnt to a crisp. For the next week I could barely move, sleep, eat,....move. I had huge blisters that looked disgusting and during one moment of sweet bliss lost in an exhausted cat nap...sitting up with pillows all around me...my mother took a needle and popped all the blisters. I woke up in a mess of blister fluid and more pain. Sweet.

Yesterday's 4th saw me pottering around my house...I didn't buy a single firework. I didn't go to the show (though I could see it out the window for the most part) and I didn't get a sunburn. Win! Just couldn't get into the whole Independence Day hype this time around...feeling rather jaded I'm thinking when I read how America is going down the toilet due to politicians intent on over zealously flushing the proverbial toilet again and again. I guess I didn't see the point of celebrating and forgetting for a moment that we are slowly (or not so slowly) losing our King of the Mountain (Superpower) status and the right to celebrate our so called freedoms, democracy, and 'don't you wish you were us" mentality.

Yeah...I'm jaded.