What is the best dream you’ve ever had? Recount it for us in all its ethereal glory. If no dream stands out in your memory, recount your worst nightmare. Leave no frightening detail out.
I am now 68, going on 69 and I am supposed to tell everyone the best dream I ever had. First of all I do not even remember my dreams when I wake in the morning or at the beginning of the afternoon. I now have the privilege of have two sessions of awaking, one of the advantages of becoming a golden oldie. The alp horn was not a dream, but my son’s colleague from Switzerland decided to give a serenade with a suitable song at his wedding celebration. The whole wedding was a dream for me.
I still reflect on my five days in Germany amongst the vineyards in the Mosel area at my son’s wedding of a lifetime for me. Of course playing an alp horn is not an easy task. I remember an occasion on an excursion from my husband’s company many years ago. We spent some days in the Bernese Overland, in Gstaad to be exact. One of our visits was to an alphorn manufacturer and we had a section of amusements one of which being to play the alp horn. I remember it well, and there was only one person that actually managed to produced a tone from this instrument. Yes, you have guessed it, Mr. Swiss. We were all surprised, especially me. He just took the instrument and blew a few notes. He told me afterwards that he knew how basically, as he himself was always around jazz musicians and their instruments and so he applied the tactics of a trumpet player. He is actually a jazz drummer, but after playing in a group for so many years, you tend to realise how the other instruments work.
As far as the nightmares are concerned, I have one that occurs daily called the Daily Prompt. My ideas are becoming sparse, simply because I have done them all before. I might dream of strangling the daily prompt inventor, but that is not a nightmare, more the realisation of my best dream. I imagine a room filled with about 10 people paid to find a daily prompt. It is silent, they all support their head in their hands trying to find something new. Suddenly one of the men is surrounded by an aura of light and you her a choir singing. “Eureka” he shouts, or something like that and a light bulb ignites above his head.
“I have it.”
Everyone turns their heads and await his discovery.”
“Mrs. Angloswiss will tell us all how good she is with her blog. She will get a Pulitzer prize for her eternal attempts at writing our daily prompt. She will become famous in the land of WordPress and will become freshly pressed.”
“But Fred” (says a colleague, who is no longer blinded by the singing and the bright lights) “we freshly pressed her a few years ago. She is still recovering from the effect of having a flat body. No-one is freshly pressed more than once in their blogging life, they would not survive, and daily prompts were never freshly pressed. She got it for a weekly writing challenge.”
“Ok Joe, then we will give it to her for her last weekly writing challenge.”
“Won’t work Fred, we don’t do weekly writing challenges any more.”
“We stopped doing them?”
“Yes, saving money and expenses and it was draining our resources for the daily prompt.”
The choir stopped singing, Fred’s aura shrivelled to a grey blob on his computer screen and the lights went out. It was not a nightmare, but reality, although I did say at the beginning it was all a figment of my imagination, or was it??
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