When I was five years old, I had a dream that I was on a beach with two teddy bears. The whole scene seemed like a cartoon; it was all very kid-friendly. The three of us were reclining on deck chairs and I recall that both teddies were wearing sunglasses.
It was a wonderful time.
Suddenly, we spotted an aeroplane in the sky. We all pointed and stared.
“We’ve got to make it!” shouted Bear #1 in an amusingly high-pitched voice. On the count of three, we jumped into the air, hurling ourselves towards the aeroplane (apparently, I was yet to grasp the way gravity/distance/reality works) and I think we were about to make it into the plane when I heard… “Niiiiick, wake up, it’s time for school.”
I’ll never know if we made that flight.
I always remembered this dream throughout my childhood, probably because I was woken up at that crucial, “Will I make the flight?” moment. I always had a very clear picture of the last few seconds of that dream: the bears on the beach, the plane, the jump, “We’ve got to make it!” and “Niiiiiick, wake up!”
I used to get a ride home from school with a friend who had a 2-year-old sister. I always sat next to her in her little baby seat and one day, she started saying, “Book, book, book,” so I picked up a Richard Scarry book from the floor and started reading it to her.
Then. Imagine. My. Surprise. When… I turned a page halfway through one of the books and there it was: the scene from my dream. The dream bears were there on my dream beach, almost exactly as I had remembered them. Everything else was the same as well. I have rarely experienced such a smack-in-the-guts shock, and all because of a silly dream I had when I was five. “Bloody Richard Scarry,” I thought. “How did he nick my idea?” It took me a while to compute what had happened, but obviously I had been read the book as a youngster and had a dream about it. I had forgotten the book but remembered the dream.
I stared at the book, dumbfounded, for what seemed like seconds but must have been longer because I was suddenly being prodded and yelled at: “Niiiiick, get out of the car!” I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave my perfect dreamland, the world in which it’s actually possible to catch a plane but simply jumping in the air. I excitedly explained to all in the car what had just transpired and I received the reaction that this blog post probably will: That’s nice, dear. Off you go.
I don’t care if it means anything to anyone else except me. I know what a special moment that was, the day that I discovered that dreams can come true.