Weird Dream

"That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed." 

— Neil Gaiman

I haven't written here in longer than I'd intended.  I'm still trying to figure out *how* to talk about some things.  Meanwhile, I'll entertain you with a dream.

Some context.  I have memories of being a kid, sitting out on the front porch in the evening with my grandfather.  Often I'd be reading, or sometimes just sitting.  We had one of those big porch swings, and he'd come out with his evening rye and ginger (he had one every night) and sit with me, quietly.  Sometimes I'd look up from my book, or just look over, and he'd have been watching me with this inscrutable look, but he never said anything.  Remembering now, it makes me wonder if he knew anything...  Or anything about me, I should specify.  He knew a lot of things.


The other night, I dreamed that I was a kid, sitting out on the porch swing reading, and my grandfather came out to sit with me, and we sat for a while.  Only when I looked up from my book, it wasn't my grandfather at all.  It was Odin - the one eyed Norse god.  He was looking at me with his one eye, drink in hand.  It could have been a rye and ginger, but I hear mead is more his thing.  He was smiling this crafty smile, a judging smile.  Like he did know things, or was planning them, or both.  And kid-me was really uncomfortable, and knew somethings was wrong, but not what. And he started laughing, or chuckling I suppose.

And that's all I remember, except I didn't sleep well the rest of the night either.

"Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you. And sometimes, when you fall, you fly." 

— Neil Gaiman