Dreams of an Anne Hathaway Look-Alike

Hello again my friends in the blogosphere. Yes, it’s been a while, I intend to do better. In- fact I’ve committed to publishing at least one post each and every month, on the 17th of ever. Maybe more stories, and thoughts sculptured into posts will come your way on dates in-between… bonus! Thanks as always for following along.

I recently woke up in the midst of a dream. One I thought I’d share with you, but not sure why. This is one of several dreams I’ve written about in my journal. I am fascinated about the subject of dreams. They’re often mysterious adventures, surreal experiences. They’re a captivating enigma of the human mind, a complex subject under scientific study. Why do we have them? What do they mean? Why is it we find joy in some while experiencing pain in others? Why do we remember some, but very quickly forget others? (At least that’s my experience).

Dreams are normal but they can’t be taken for granted. We can lose the ability to dream through strokes, brain damage and trauma. And there are those among us that never dream. Never, in their entire lives! A sleep doctor and psychiatrist, Pierre Geoffroy, says that not dreaming is extremely rare. Most people dream but don’t remember them. Several studies have shown that if you wake up in the middle of the night, you can (like me occasionally) write down a certain number of dreams (what else do we dream writers have to do?). But non-dreamers are incapable of doing this. If they dream, they simply are incapable of remembering them.

So, here goes …

I was among a group of mostly men in a social gathering. I believe it might have been in the Seattle area, but I recall it was cold and snowy in the neighborhood. I was in a car among other guys, and maybe a woman or two.

We were going to visit a young woman, for a social gathering at her home. I’m certain it was a church group. As it turns out her home was beautiful. As I explored its rooms I found it beautifully, and very tastefully furnished, with carpeting and rugs, wall hangings and a beautiful piano. I thought, “Oh, there’s a subject I could talk about with her.”

This young woman’s name was “Max.” She was perfect. She was gorgeous. Not tall, somewhat petite, with short dark hair. She had a beautiful smile, and an outgoing personality, certainly sufficient to engage with, and entertain her group of about 15, again mostly men. She looked a lot like the actress Anne Hathaway. Oh my …

I recall mingling among this group, and while I watched our host mingle as well, I remember thinking, “I want to stand out among the rest. I want this girl’s attention. I want to be with her, to date her, but how do I do that?” (I must have been much younger).

Then we moved on to another scene, all of the guests in her large, manicured back yard. We’d just been served ice cream, I was concerned about its portion, as I was dieting, and didn’t want to break my rules. But, as we stood in her back yard, “Max” suddenly arrives atop a beautiful horse, on a small hill, wearing immaculate riding gear, including trousers, a jacket, and a dark equestrian helmet (remember, this is just a dream). I stood below where she stopped, looking up at her and thinking, “Wow! What an amazing picture this would be.” As I watched, that stallion standing there with its feet firmly planted, adorned in the best, polished leather, “Max” received her deserved adoration from the group. It was an impressive sight.

Finally I found myself talking with her, as she was again serving ice cream to her guests. I had her fairly undivided attention. I asked about her name, was it short for “Maxine?” She said yes. I told her “my mother’s name was Maxine.” As I remember it, she had no response.

Then I found myself with my shirt off, and sitting on a couch with “Max” sitting to my right. I was a bit embarrassed, without my shirt and wondering why I found myself in this situation. I think it was part of a game we were all playing, but I wanted desperately to find my shirt and to be fully dressed.

Suddenly we are walking together, just Max and I along her neighborhood streets. Now, I had her complete attention and doing my best hoping to say all the right words, and to impress her. I desperately wanted her to see me as a guy she’d like to get to know.

I wondered if I should wait until another day, when I would see her again, If I would see her again, OR should I ask her out on this first occasion, as we visited? I knew there had to be others wanting her attention. I was concerned about missing this rare opportunity.

I thought about asking if we could go to church together. That, I thought, would be the perfect first date. As I was by this time in love with this gorgeous and amazing woman, I wanted her to know of my love for the church, but how do I explain my long absence from it? How do I explain the reasons why? Would she want anything to do with me, a four-time divorced, marital failure. I knew I would ask her out, but all these thoughts of weighty concern swept through my mind.

Then I find myself in an ice cream store. A brightly lit shop, mostly full of bowls, utensils, wall hangings, everything possible having to do with ice cream. And there again was “Max” mingling among a small group of shoppers, she the sole employee (or owner?). She answered questions, as she dusted the displays, looking very busy. Now, I thought, “how do I once again get her attention? What happened during that neighborhood walk together?” I couldn’t recall. What a dilemma. “What did she think of me, where did I stand.” I-was-confused.

As I roamed the room, trying to look inconspicuous, I noted how cute she was, with her radiant smile, wearing a white buttoned blouse, and a short, red plaid skirt with black stockings. Did I say I was in love?

It was then, that I suddenly woke up, realizing, and very disappointed it was all but a dream. But one I obviously remembered in detail, unlike many that escape my memory, in just seconds. I needed to write this one down, and did.

I know, weird, and crazy. But aren’t most dreams? At least mine are.

Some say dreams are just another dimension of one’s mind with hidden meanings. In Africa, and some other parts of the world, all dreams are seen as having meaning. If so, what was this dreams message? Was Anne thinking of me too? 🙂

What do you think? I’d love to hear from others with their perspectives and thoughts about their own dreams, and experiences. Have you wakened from a dream elated and elevated, or disappointed and sad? Feel free to share by commenting below. It’s painless, and you won’t. receive any spam mail. I promise.

Thanks so much for making it to the end.

℘