My dreams, since childhood, are often vivid but not necessarily coherent narratives. Yet, living within them, for that time, seems real.
I recall as a child, when I was clearly old enough to know the distinction between a dream state and being awake, I dreamt of settlers making their way across the country. They were passing through my hometown and our time together created a bond. They were similar to the pioneers I had read about in books or seen in movies; women wore bonnets, men looked like cowboys, and the requisite wagon train filled the scene.
But I awoke before they reached their destination and this concerned me. I wondered how they would travel on. I knew these characters were inhabited in my mind yet I empathized with their fate.
There was only one thing to do. That night I thought of them again and in my dream I insured their safe passage to the end of their journey and mine .
