Dreaming.

We all dream – day-dreams or those scarcely remembered fragments of dreams while asleep. And while dreams obviously have a purpose, no one is quite sure what they are, or where they “come from”. I’m not talking about “nightmares” – they seem to be of a different order entirely.

It matters not – the fact is that we do dream and many derive comfort from what they “see” or “experience” while dreaming.  Similarly we all indulge in reverie at times during the day – thinking of what was or what might be. Like all dreams, however, these are impossible to control – they “arrive” seemingly without invitation.

But in the words of the song, from the movie, South Pacific, “If you don’t have a dream, how you gonna have a dream come true?”

But reality always seems to intrude and draw one’s attention to what is termed “reality”. But I wonder if it really is reality?

What is the “mind”, presumably the origin of dreams? A good example of the power of the mind is that strange phenomenon known as the “placebo effect”. This is when a patient is told the medication (a sugar pill) or fake operation (yes those happen) is the real deal and strangely people seem to benefit and even get better.

How and why? Know one has an answer.

As some readers of my ramblings might recall, I find that poets often expresses in verse what might take me a whole page to say in prose. Poetry is almost always about the human condition – love, disappointment, death and life’s tribulations in general.

The anonymous poet who writes under the name “Atticus” often has a short verse about many matters that are driven by the mind – what a person thinks and the power of thought. And some of his verse reminds me of my life with Magucha. Take this one for instance:-

“She was powerful

not because she wasn’t scared

but because

she went on strongly

despite the fear.” 

That fits Magucha perfectly – I never ever saw her frightened. Not ever.  

I’m not sure if she was ever told this but I truly believe that all, yes ALL, girls should be told this:-

“You are a bird,

my girl,’

her father said,

“shake the water from your feathers

spread those mighty wings

and fly.”

Also, in Magucha’s case:

“Her courage was her crown

and she wore it like a queen.”

Then:-

“The bravest thing

she ever did

was to stay alive

each day.”

And finally, because Magucha lived with such a precarious medical condition for the entire time I knew her, about thirty-eight years, I always tried to ease the weight of the burdens she carried. I hope I succeeded. 

Atticus wrote this, which is what, as best I could, I always tried to do:-

“He shielded 

her heart

like a flame

in a storm –

his back 

against the wind.”

As always the dreams remain and often surface with extraordinary vividness completely “out of the blue”. They are just there!

Memories or dreams?

It is very strange how memory works. I might be going about my daily chores when a scent, a sound, a picture or something I might read, will suddenly recall an event or something about our lives together. Me with Magucha. I know that it is getting on for three years since she died (I just can’t use the euphemism “passed away”. It seems like an avoidance – to hide something). Sometimes she seems closer than at other times – like a dream – drifting in and out. 

All this reminds me of the reasons why I like poetry and why it has been used by troubadours and wandering minstrels down the centuries is that the cadence, the rhythm, matches that of music and the beat of the human heart – about sixty beats a minute. Before written language was invented, Hindus used the rhythm to help them remember verses of the Bhagavad Gita and other epic tales. Similarly the Greeks had wandering minstrels who would entertain people with tales of Olympus and the Gods who lived there. These stories were later collated by Homer and many other writers. 

This poem – and I know it may pull at the heart-strings – but I don’t care, it resonates for me - only because I grieve. This reminds me of Magucha and the love we shared.  It is all about memories. 

When tomorrow starts without me.

When tomorrow starts without me, I will not be here to see,
That the sun will rise and find your eyes; filled with tears for me,
But please know you're always in my heart, and I will forever love you,
And know, each time you think of me, I will be missing you too.

When tomorrow starts without me, I need you to understand,
That an angel came, he called my name and took me by the hand.
He told me it was time to go up to heaven far above,
And that I have to leave behind all those I dearly love.

When tomorrow starts without me, I know that you will cry,
For all my life I’d always thought that I would never die.
I had so much life ahead of me; I had so much to do,
It seems almost impossible that I was leaving you.

When tomorrow starts without me, I think of the good days, and the bad,
I thought of all our fights, next to all the fun we had.
If I could have stayed, just for a little while,
I would say I'd always be here, and then I'd make you smile.

When tomorrow starts without me, I'll realise that this could never be,
As all that would be left of me, is frozen in memories.
Then I thought of all the beautiful things that I would miss tomorrow,
I thought of you and when I did my heart was filled with sorrow.

When tomorrow starts without me I will walk through heaven’s gate,
I will feel at home even without my soul mate.
I know this is what I wanted, deep down within my bones,
And God looked down and smiled at me from his great golden throne.

When tomorrow starts without me I see everything He promised me,

“Today your life on earth is past, and now you can be free.”
“I promise no tomorrow as today will always last,
And since it's all the same you will not be longing for the past.”

So when tomorrow starts without me don’t think we’re far apart,
For every time you think of me I’m right here in your heart.

Attributed to David Romano. 

In the “small hours”.

It is in the “small hours” of the night, if I’m awake, and when my emotional reserves are low and my mind wanders, that I sometimes have half real dreams or imaginings. These are sometimes quite haunting. It is during these “small hours” that I often recall the fact that there is an emptiness in the bed beside me which then opens a window into a host of memories.

It in times such as these (and not only in the “small hours”) that I  - in fact all of us - need some inspiration to lift us out of the hole we may find ourselves in and give us hope for the future. Words of inspiration shine a light in the dark corners of our mind and dissipate the shadows and fearsome shapes our imaginings have created.

I have always found solace and inspiration in poetry – not everyone shares this of course – and is a retreat, a resource I frequent. Now the poem, “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, is such a one. It can be relied on to provide words of good cheer and inspiration when there is a general lack of “harmony” in my life. The words of the poem are a paean of praise to the indomitable human spirit; of the beauty of love for one’s fellow beings and the knowledge that we can always aspire to, and achieve, greater and grander things. They remind us that we humans are better than we could ever have imagined, and that we are all free to seek for, and to arrive at that moment in our lives when peace, harmony and contentment fill our hearts.

In this case the poem’s last six lines are the important ones:

                                                                        “.....; and tho’

                        We are not now that strength which in old days

                        Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

                        One equal temper of heroic hearts,

                        Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

                        To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 “... but strong in will to seek, to strive, to find, and not to yield.” – powerful words.

The Romans called him Ulysses, but he was a Greek, called Odysseus. He was immortalised in Homer’s chronicles, the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey”, about the siege of Troy and his epic journey home to his long suffering but faithful wife, after a twenty year absence.

In the context of the poem, Ulysses/Odysseus is now an old man. But he is still fired by the thought of greater things to do and greater feats of endurance.

Ulysses/Odysseus was not only a brave and fearless fighter, but also a brilliant tactician – it was he who devised the famous Trojan Horse that was used by the Greeks to finally overcome the defenders of Troy, some thirty one centuries ago.

In many ways this poem – especially the last line, always reminds me of Magucha. All her life she strove; she sought; and (I hope) she found – but she never yielded. She never gave up. In this she was indomitable.

While never trying to make her out to be something she wasn’t – she was very much a fallible human being - there were aspects of her personality that I really admired and respected.

I loved her just as she was – deeply loved her.