August 9, 2014
1:39 p.m.

I finally got some sleep last night, after about three days in a row of "cat-naps" I think I may have gotten a total of six hours during those days, and last night I managed about seven! Hurray for me!

But I had the strangest dream. I mean, really strange, because it was so real. I usually don't share my dreams, but this won't seem to leave my mind, so I'm going to tell you.

I was in a huge building with a lot of people. I don't remember who they were, friends or family, but I do remember that I seemed to know them all. I remember discussing children and grandchildren.

I was nicely dressed, so it was apparently a celebration of some kind. People were mingling in small groups, sipping drinks and chatting. There were not a lot of children, but the adults were of all ages. I was laughing with a small group of women, and then told them I was going to go outdoors for a breath of air.

I turned toward the doors, glass doors in a glass wall which displayed a beautiful courtyard outside. I started up the stairs, and waiting for me there was Robert Reed, the actor who played Mike Brady on the 1970's show "The Brady Bunch".

"Hello, Paula," he said, smiling.

"Hi, 'Mike'", I replied, returning his smile, with interest added.

He threw back his head and laughed. "It never ends," he snorted, grinning.

"Hello, Robert," I relented, and he hugged me tightly. I hugged back, and it was like coming home.

One of the women I'd just left called up to me, 'You know him?"

"Of course she knows me!" Robert replied. "I'm Mike Brady! Everybody knows me."

"You remember me," I commented, loud enough for only him to hear.

"I remember you," he agreed.

Now, this is very strange, because I never met Robert Reed in my life. I did watch "The Brady Bunch" in the '70's, like everyone else I knew at that time, so of course I grew up seeing him as a father figure, but beyond that, I didn't follow his career or anything like that. At the time, I was more interested in Barry White (Greg Brady), also like other girls I knew at that time.

So why would he remember me?

"Come walk with me," Robert said, swing the door open.

"I'd love a walk," I agreed. He put his arm around my shoulder, I put mine around his waist, and we walked out into that beautiful courtyard.

There were many different kinds of trees there, and flowers of all colors. Lilac and rose bushes dotted the scenery. I braced myself for sneezing and watery eyes, possibly even an asthma attack. I wasn't carrying a bag, so no inhaler. How silly of me!

But nothing happened; my breathing was fine, and the smells were wonderful.

"I feel so good today," I said.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes."

And it really was. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, a few fair-weather cottony clouds floated passively overhead. Birds flitted between the trees and the foot-path was perfectly maintained.

We walked on for awhile. I looked over my shoulder. The building we'd left was nowhere in sight. All around us were trees, bushes, flowers and birds.

"Look," Robert said, stepping off the path. "Berries." He plucked a few off a bush and popped them in his mouth. "Mmmm. Want some?"

Of course I did. We stood there munching the most delicious berries I've ever eaten for a few minutes. I have no idea what kind of berries they were, but I wish I had some right now.

Robert offered me his arm and I took it. We returned to the path and resumed our walk. We reached a place where there were steps leading up a steep hill. I eyed them with trepidation, but I didn't want to complain about my arthritis to Robert Reed! 

We began climbing the steps. My fears, it turned out, were unfounded. My knees, ankles and back made no protest whatsoever.

(What a great dream!)

Squirrels and chipmunks scampered across the path. A doe stood staring at us from a small clearing in the trees, her fawn beside her. We continued to climb, up and up.

Robert turned to me. "So," he asked, "what do you think about closing all the zoos?"

"That's stupid!" I blurted, before I could think of how that would sound. "I mean--wow."

I stared down at me feet, watching them as they effortlessly continued mounting step after step. How was this even possible?

I looked back up at Robert. "Sometimes I open my mouth first and speak second. I don't mean I think zoos are a good thing--"

Robert grinned at me. "I know what you mean," he said.

The crazy thing is, I believed him. He did know, I know he did, but I felt a need to clarify.

"When I go to a zoo, I feel sad," I told him. "Animals don't belong in cages.  But--" I added, "no one can realistically expect to just close all the zoos and let the animals go free. It won't work."

"Because?" Robert raised his eyebrows at me, no doubt expecting me to say something brilliant.

I'm not brilliant. But I said what I think. "Because they have forgotten how to be free," I said. "They've been bred and raised in cages, fed every day by zookeepers. Some may be able to survive in the wild using their instincts--I think the reptiles would be fine--but some would just languish and die."

Robert nodded at me and opened his mouth to speak--

And I woke up! Doggone it! I want to know what he might have said next.

I also want to know where we were and where we were going. Why was I able to climb those stairs without pain or difficulty? Why wasn't I gasping and wheezing and weepy and sneezing?

I think I may have been dreaming about my death.

If that's the case, I find it interesting that Robert Reed was the one sent to fetch me.

I don't find it unbelievable or incredible. Just interesting.

Dreams are crazy things, aren't they? I mean, I've had some pretty wacky ones over the years, and some that seem prophetic in retrospect. If I die soon, does that mean I dreamed it and it came true? You'll have no way of knowing, will you? I don't think anyone living will see it if Robert Reed comes to walk me home.

I know one thing, though: I liked Robert Reed. I felt very comfortable walking through the trees with him. I liked breathing in the scents of nature without wheezing and climbing stairs with no pain. If that can be a true thing--and of course I believe it can, I must believe that, mustn't I?--then I have no fear of death.

I'm in no rush, however. I do want to stick around awhile and watch my grandchildren grow up. That would be nice.

So this was a strange post, I think.

Now I wonder about you. What are your dreams like? Do you believe they have any meaning, or are they just the brain's way of cleaning house at the end of the day?

Let me know in the comments!

Ta ta for now!