Bridge To Dreamland, Beware of the Enemy

There are some mornings in which my brain pauses, as I struggle to focus on a topic. I find myself in that situation this morning. Retiring to my bedroom at the normal time, last night, I made a poor movie selection. I’ve been soaking in the happy antics of Rock Hudson and Doris Day, when I decided on a change of genre.

Turning to the gloom and doom of World War II, first I watched The Caine Mutiny. A very interesting look into the psychology of powerful men. There were four movies in the set, each focused the days of World War II. I found The Caine Mutiny to be fascinating on several levels, including the role women played in the movie and at the time of war. With nothing more disturbing than the quest for a few lost strawberries and an outrageous storm, I decided to begin another movie before falling to sleep.

The next choice was The Bridge on the River Kwai. In my old age, the movie was at times, hard to watch, leaving me in a less than a sleepy state. In today’s world, there would have been far more violence and gore splashed upon the screen. Movies of the past are artful in suggestions of things so terrible, your mind is left to reach its own hellish conclusions without visual aide. It was of those scenes from which my brain borrowed characters.

Dream sequences can be a bit comical sometimes. I was sitting on the beach enjoying the sunshine, as I’d planned to do for so many months. All of a sudden, prisoners of war came streaming right past Dom’s Clam Chowder and Bait Shop to a whistled tune. They continued until they were in place and someone gave the command. Like that, the pier fell into the water, the flying pieces turning into dolphins, which swam away. Cheerfully, everyone on the beach clapped loudly while the prisoners each took a surfboard and paddled off, whistling John Lennon’s Imagine.

As it turns out, my planned adventures to the little beach house were blown up just like the Bridge on the River Kwai. As April 8th got closer, it became obvious that the stress of the heaven-er-sary is weighing heavier on my shoulders than I first thought it would. That, coupled with the fact that the beach town is 459.3 miles away, made me reconsider my decision to venture so far. I rewrote my plans for the day, accepting that sometimes one needs to take a step back and regroup. I will be spending April 8th in the comforting walls of Winterpast.

T and K will join me on April 8th for a last monthly release of 12 brightly colored balloons. Each month has brought a different path for the balloons, along with different emotions and feelings. To think I’m at the end of the first year of widowhood still amazes me, returning me to a last bit of widow’s fog. How can it be that a year passed so quickly? How could one year take a lifetime to pass?

After getting a glass of water and returning to my comfy bed, dreams came again.

This time, a brand new television, grand in scale was sitting in my living room. Colonel Saito and Lt. Colonel Nicholson were sitting with me on the couch debating how high the new television should be hung, while T and K looked on. I had no input at all, muted, while watching the prisoners outside prune my trees to short nubs while removing all fruit wood. Oliver sat in a tiny prisoner of war outfit, looking forlorn as the tired men slaved away. Branches were being stacked for the new bridge, with every bit of wood being needed.

Again, my eyes flew open, happy to find myself in the safety of Winterpast, with no sign of prisoners or the enemy anywhere in sight. The dream did give me the great idea that I DO need a new television. With that new thought, it took me a little while to return to sleep, considering my options on just how high the television would need to be hung, without the help of Saito and Nicholson, by the way.

Today is a great day for one gardener to get her game on while bringing gardening tools out of the shed. Under the shining sun, today is first day of outdoor activities for me. I have garden beds to design and bulbs to plant.

Tonight, I’ll return to Doris and Rock. Send Me No Flowers. No enemy warfare need to assault my dreams and blow up a peaceful night of sleep. Have a wonderful Saturday.