"I wanted to teach her life's lesson, which is not to ask why are we wounded, but can the wound be healed."
~Captain Corelli's Mandolin
I have extremely vivid dreams, in full techni-color. Always have. It's one of the reasons I love sleeping - I get to watch really cool movies in my head all night long. Something that has always struck me as odd is that, in all the time I've known him, I've rarely dreamed about John. I think I can count on both hands the times I've dreamed about him. Even then, he's usually in the background or not entirely visible to me. But last night, I think for the first time ever, he was right there. We were laughing and flirting, and the old wicked twinkle was in his eyes. He was making fun of my cat and we were having a great time.
I woke up, not feeling sad, but with a smile. It's as if he was telling me, "This is what you get, have fun with it. Don't be sad. Enjoy the beauty of laughter in every moment."
So begins another week. So The Weaver inexorably lends new threads to the tapestry - some shiny, some dull, some boucled, some fine and silky. Stand back, and it's not the individual threads we tend to notice as much as the overall picture - the warp and weft of an entire vision.
"One must create a vision and not merely something that one knows to exist."
Yes, I have Italy and Italians on my mind. Chalk it up to a weekend spent conversing online with a rather charming Italian fellow. Once again my linguistic passion is stirred and the polyglot in me is screaming, "Must... learn... Italian!" Sì, devo. Ciao.