On Alligators and Paris

You know you really need a vacation when your dreams include everything from alligators to Paris.

This week, I've had two dreams that have stuck with me. The first involved alligators, court hearings, and selfies. The second involved good friends, Paris, and shopping. Usually, my dreams are a mixed-up collage of all that's happened in the day as my mind tries to work through the weirdness to make sense of it all. These dreams were nothing like that.

The first one, the one with the court hearings and alligators, left me feeling both uneasy and accomplished. I'd been to some kind of hearing and despite having rehearsed my lines, I had opted to the tell the truth - which didn't make anyone happy but eased my conscience, so it must have been the right choice. As I walked home, following a sidewalk that bordered a river, I noticed a couple reptile-like heads bobbing in the water. My logical brain dismissed them as an over-active imagination, and I continued on. After all, I live in Canada, and alligators don't exactly thrive in this region of the world.

It must have been raining because the water started lapping at the edges of the sidewalk. As I got closer to the first lump in the water, several more appeared. By now, it was obvious they were, indeed, alligators.

Did I run? No. Did I back away? No.

I dug my phone out of my pocket, presented my back to the impending threat, and took a selfie that I immediately uploaded to Instagram and Facebook. Yup. I was that person.

And then, of course, I woke up. In real life, I'd like to think I'm not an idiot, but this dream proves otherwise.

The second dream is much more delightful. It was so fantastic, I hit snooze on my alarm twice in an attempt to recapture it, but we all know how that part of the story ends.

I was in Paris with a few of my oldest and closest friends from high school, and we were staying in a modern, luxury hotel. Our suite had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower along with the rest of the city. We shopped, we chatted, we ate, we laughed, and not once did any of us pull out a cell phone or snap a photo. We were very much living in the moment, savouring every detail, and enjoying our longtime friendship...

Until the obnoxious chime of my alarm disturbed the peace.

I'm not going to search the web or crack open a book on dream interpretations - mostly because I'm pretty sure I won't like what I'll find, but I will take a moment to think about what these two dreams mean to me. For the past few weeks, I've been thinking about living life with purpose - really paying attention to the who, what, and where of it all. I'm not about to give up social media or my cell phone addiction, but I do think I need to spend a little more time focusing on the real world around me. I need to budget my time because it isn't infinite, but it is valuable. Every so often, my dreams speak to me, and this time, I think I got the message loud and clear.

Love you forever, sweet Panda Pooch.

Last week, we had to say goodbye to our precious pooch. She came into our lives 10 years ago, a rescue who undoubtedly rescued us. I told people she was my fit of rebellion. I wanted a dog, and my husband agreed, but I didn't bring home the creature he had envisioned. Instead of a small to mid-sized spaniel mix, Panda was a purebred mutt of gigantic proportions. She was my mid-life crisis Ferrari, only she turned out to be the most dependable Toyota.

The shelter told me she was about a year old and fully grown, but within a few months of her joining our family, she grew a couple inches taller and gained ten pounds... possibly the result of too much love and spoiling. Her nose easily crested the top of the kitchen table, where she happily snagged anything within her reach... birthday cakes, entire hams, and apples... she really loved apples.

The shelter volunteers had named her Dot, but my older kids were going through a Yu-Gi-Oh phase and decided she needed a Japanese name, so they tossed around a number of unpronounceable options from their favourite Manga shows. In the end, the youngest suggested "Panda" because she looked like one, and pandas are from Japan. It was cute, different, and appropriate - so who were we to correct a five-year-old on the origins of pandas?

Over the years, she was my constant companion. I said we got her for the kids, but she always was my girl. After getting the kids safely to school, we settled into a cozy routine. I'd write, edit or format, and she'd snore softly at my feet. She rarely barked to announce visitors, occasionally howled if she was feeling vocal, and she groaned like an old man when forced to move or do something she didn't want to. If we had unexpected company, usually of the animal type, she'd growl low and menacing, ready to protect her people, but we never knew her to be aggressive.

When my husband took work in another province, spending weeks at a time away, she promptly filled his space on the bed, keeping me warm, letting me know we were safe. Stoic, dependable, and sensitive, she supported us all through some pretty rocky times.

She'll always be part of our family, her soul is embedded in my heart, and her energy continues to filter into every corner of our lives. It's only been a week, and I know time will soften the sharp edges of grief, but today, with the kids back at school, my husband at work, and the silence of the day surrounding me... I miss her.