moonwalking

I sleep with Radio 4 and, later, The BBC World Service to comfort me.
It is my adult-equivalent of sleeping with the light on
During the night, a restless and disturbed night, I heard Michael Jackson's daughter speaking at his memorial service and I cried for that little girl as she spoke of her love for her father

When I do sleep I dream about dead people which is natural, I suppose, at this time of loss
I seem to have more dead friends than living, breathing buddies
and really, at times, I am comfortable with that
strange as that may seem

Does it seem strange to you guys?

But something else that's very strange is that in my dreams these dead people are all engaged in some profession for which they were unqualified when they were alive

For instance, I dreamt that my mother (who never worked and who died 4 years ago aged 73) was living in our old house on the edge of RAF Gaydon and working as an observation officer, a kind of first line defence, for the military

And my best friend Jeannie, who also didn't work once she had children, was employed at Oxford university as a linguist.

I know why I'm dreaming these dreams
It's my brain telling me that all these people had potential that was never fulfilled
and showing me how very different their lives could have been
and warning me that I am going to be very cross if I die without achieving some of my own goals
so quit drifting and start applying myself
because God is not going to want one more frustrated, sad, old biddy full of regrets and If Only's to add to the multitude that have gone before me

So, today I will start and finish a French assignment
and read my thick pile of work notes
and perhaps I will pick up that Finnish course and take a peep at all those funny accented 'a's
and maybe I will even, no, let's not get too ambitious, the ironing can wait!

and for inspiration...
Rita Levi-Montalcini
and Michael Jackson at his best Moonwalk

Today we should have been in France
The ferry was booked, the plans laid, the dreams begun...
Today we should have been driving through the French countryside
Today I should have been introducing Him to my other world
Too late, always that sad lament
We left it too late
and now....

I may think longingly of France and all that I left behind
but This is where I am now
and This is where I will be, at least until next spring
and so I intend to make the most of every single day
because to do otherwise seems wasteful and wrong
and direspectful to all of those who left it too late to realise their dreams

(My mother, an RAF intellience officer, well, she could have done it if she'd tried!)

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver