Let's pretend we welcome Daylight Saving Time. While we're at it, we could pretend it is still the latter half of the 20th century in which we were, those of us of a certain age, young and watched The Monkees. Their "Daydream Believer" has never lost relevance for me, likely never will.
I was elbowed yesterday by a Facebook post about the importance of dreams and how we can begin to unravel their wisdom by starting to write down as much as we remember upon waking each morning. Don't try to make sense of them, the article cautioned, almost promising that as we become more consistent with recording them, our recall will widen and the messages they convey will be less obscure. Decades ago I kept a dream journal until the book intended for the purpose was filled. I was more practiced in the art of remembering and imagine I can become that way again.
Dreams and their waking counterparts, daydreams, tell us stories about ourselves. That the telling may be in code is not intended to keep us from their secrets. We are meant to understand and inhabit the stories, their value all the greater for the work they ask of us. Dream on, my sisters and brothers.