Dream
Notebook
I
keep a blank notebook and a pen beside my bed. Whenever I have a dream, the
next morning—first thing—I describe as much of the dream as I can remember in
the notebook.
Once
I dreamed that I needed some money to exit a parking garage, only my change
purse had pounds, dollars, and euros all mixed together. In my dream I grew
frustrated trying to sort the various coins.
I
know what spurred this dream. I spent the first four decades of my life living
in the United States before moving to Glasgow where I’ve stayed the past ten
years, with occasional trips to other countries. And my Tennessee accent—which
I had tried to tone down all the while I lived in Minnesota—has come back, in
contrast to the lilting Glasgow patter that I hear and understand more each day
but will never be able to speak.
Changing
cultures is challenging. Often I’ve wished my new life in Glasgow came with a
rule book to help me sort it out. But it doesn’t. Only a dream notebook. And
it’s filling up fast.
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