Night-nights

I was listening to some sermons and services from my church website yesterday and one of those was from our Sunday evening contemporary service. Cindy, our worship leader, was speaking of how some childish things need to be put away, such as "night-nights." You know, that blankey you always kept near you as a child or your favorite teddy bear. And I was thinking as she spoke about this that I don't recall having a "night-night" of my own. I traveled a lot as a child, back and forth between my parents and sometimes to my cousins' house, but I don't remember a specific object that I just had to have at all times. Maybe events in my life had taught me not to hold on to things or even people, which is sad but possibly the answer to why I didn't have a special thing.

And then today I was discussing some favorite books with the girls in the lab and Madeleine L'Engle came up (she wrote A Wrinkle in Time among others) and I started searching online for quotes by her. I found on from A Wind in the Door, one of my favorite books that she wrote, and I realized that I miss my books. Many of the books I read as a child are still at my mother's house, just waiting for me to pack them up and find a place for them in my apartment. And reading this quote showed me that my books are my "night-night."

Even if I know that I will not have the chance to read when I go on a trip, I take at least one book. They are all over my house. When I had my surgery and was completely not in control of my life, I read almost 10 books. I almost never part with the books I have and have only recently begun to let friends borrow them. I couldn't even pass on my childhood books to my brother. I insisted that he get his own. Maybe not the best move to get nominated for sister of the year, but still, that was how I felt about it.

Books are my comfort. The books I choose to read allow me to escape to a place where my problems no longer exist. For the length of time that I am reading that book, I am not myself, not dealing with the confusing world around me. I am a disembodied observer of the lives of characters created by someone else. I still run to a book when things are rough. If my day was terrible, I let myself read until I fall asleep. I should be cleaning or working on papers for school, but I must read; I must do something completely unrelated to myself.

I have very recently found the joy in sharing special books with friends and family. Those books that changed me or comforted me the most have been able to do the same for those I care about. And that has made a difference to me, to see the way others enjoy what has brought so much happiness to me. But I still miss my books when they are gone and long to have them back on my shelf just waiting for me to pick them up again.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes?

Through conversations with other people and the ever accurate televisions shows, I have discovered that perhaps I do not dream like other people do. I have never dreamed that I was flying or falling or being chased by someone I couldn't see. I don't think any of my dreams have been in black and white. I remember at least one dream from every night's sleep; if I slept long and well enough to dream, that is. They are vivid and very realistic to me.

Sometimes I am lucky enough to have a dream that fits Cinderella's definition of a dream. The prince (whichever one it might be at that time ;)) is mine and we are very happy. But more often than not, my dreams are ones I would rather not have. Either I'm not with the man I wish to be, or I am fighting with someone, or, like last night, I have a nightmare.

Now, I caught myself thinking, "Why can't we stop having nightmares when we grow up?" But then, that would mean only children would have nightmares and I truly wish that they didn't. So, can't we just get rid of them all together? I realize that the answer is no, but it's a nice thought.

I actually wish that we could chose our dreams; that our daydreams could be played out in our heads as we sleep. We could escape from all the bad things and just live in our custom-made dream world until the alarm sounded. No one chasing us, no mistaken identities, no rejections. And then, if I wanted, I could fly.