ALL THOSE STORIES IN MY HEAD

On Friday it was 80 degrees out. In November. In Connecticut. It was too fine a day to stay indoors, so my faithful pup Molly and I headed out to Chatfield Hollow for a saunter around the lake with a writer friend of ours. As we shared our thoughts, Nancy and I discovered we both love sleeping, love our pillows and covers, and especially love our dreams.

I found myself contemplating our convo over coffee this morning, and it occurred to me that dreaming is very much like reading a good book. A dream can create an all-encompassing alternate universe, complete in itself with its own quirky characters, vibrant settings, stirred-up ideas and emotions, and a compelling—though sometimes hard to follow—narrative. It’s no wonder I love to dream. Or maybe it’s no wonder I love to read.