Nightmares, dreams and nighttime fairytales

I’m a weird-dream specialist. Honestly, I have weird dreams about three times a week. Usually it becomes evident right when I wake up that something is just wrong, I can wake up angry, I can wake up in love, I can wake up in tears. After half a minute, maybe a little more, that wears off and I realize that what felt so real just moments ago, was in fact just a dream. The other day I dreamt that my Mom told me to “stop being such a bitch all the time”. Just this morning I woke up thinking that I was best friends with a classmate, who I absolutely cannot stand. Once I woke up in the middle of the night, my cheeks and pillow wet from my tears because I thought my Dad had died. When I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt that my Mom passed away too, that morning I woke up as an orphan, so when I came downstairs I was so happy to see my parents sitting there.

I once visited a doctor, kind of an alternative doctor, because I had been ill-ish for 8 weeks and antibiotics did not help. I could tell she was quite the alternative doctor: she started to ask questions like ‘do you ever have weird dreams’, ‘do you sweat a lot’, ‘do you have itchy feet’? She then graded my personality silver. I tried convincing her that really my personality was GOLDEN, but no, that did not work out. The point is that ever since I visited that doctor, I just kept wondering about what those dreams had to do with my health. Or what dreams have to do with anything at all, since they hardly ever seem to make sense.

For quite some time I wrote my dreams down into a notebook that I kept on my nightstand. As soon as I woke up I would write everything I remembered about my dreams, thinking that maybe they would make more sense then. Recently I found that notebook, and I started reading. The strange thing was that from every dream, I could recall the exact feeling I had when waking up that morning. The best ones were the ones about traveling (and I can tell you it were a lot of them), when I woke up I felt like I had been away for 4 weeks, to Morocco, Egypt, Australia or the Dominican Republic and I would just feel so… Satisfied. Or content, or happy. Words cannot really describe the feeling that well. But I am pretty sure every single one of us has had those moments: when everything is just right.

Bottom line is: dreams may not have a function of themselves, but we can certainly give them one. Learn from the bad ones, and reminisce the good ones, to get that perfect feeling back when you need it.

Those people

It is during the tough times, the rough periods and grey eras of your life that you get to know the people around you best. You will find that some are there when you need an optimistic view: they will cheer you up when you are feeling down by making you laugh about silly YouTube videos. Some will let you sob in misery and acknowledge that it is okay for you to feel horrible, because life simply seems horrible at times: they will cry with you and play horrible dramatic songs that make everything seem even worse.

The persons, however, that you will appreciate most are the ones that can see not only what you want, but also what is good for you. Sometimes it is not okay to be sad about something for a long period of time, sometimes you just need someone to kick your ass, set you on fire and make you live again, even if that is not what you want.

Those people, the ones that always have your best interest in mind for the long term; the ones that have your happiness in mind, and not mere short-term satisfaction; the ones that will not only listen, but also argue with you and get mad at you:
those are the ones that we can call true friends.

See beneath the beautiful

He asked me: ‘why are we always looking for the perfect person, while we will never find them, while we will have to settle for less?’ I asked him: ‘does that bother you, knowing that you are going to end up with someone who isn’t perfect?’ He said it did not bother him, but as I looked into his eyes I saw a different answer. His eyes told a different story than his mouth, and at that moment I was the only one able to hear that second story, the untold. I wanted to tell him that we do not need someone perfect, but all we need is someone that treats us as if we are. I knew that this sounded too much as a line from a Nicholas Sparks novel, and not enough as the truth so I kept my mouth shut and nodded while I rested my head on his shoulders. Without saying a word I thought about how I wanted him to be that person for me, how I wanted him to know me in my purest and most selfless forms. And I know that there will always be flaws, errors and tiny mistakes, but the true goal is to find a person who looks beyond your beautiful and who actually appreciates your inside and every bit of it. Right there and right then, I felt like I had found that person, it was him.

Some people can make you feel that way, as if you were perfect. It will be the man who takes your breath away, but gives you a whole lot more back for it. It will be the man who is not afraid to show you his weakness, his struggles, his pain and more important, even: his love for you. You need to give that man a chance though, because too often we do not recognize him at first. He built the walls around him, but it is up to you to break those down, brick by brick until you know him as well as you know yourself.

For a moment I thought I had found him. My guy. The guy I needed. Even though in the end it did not turn out the way I had wanted it too, that small moment gave me some kind of hope. It is a feeling I like to recall: that moment when it finally seemed like my jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces had been put together into a coherent whole. I know now that I do not have to search in order to find, that I do not need to reach out in order to get help, but most of all: that I do not have to ask in order to get an answer to my questions.

Midnight chatter

Picture this: a winter night, along with hail and temperatures way below zero. After a party he asked her to sit with him for a little while, even though it was 4 a.m; it did not matter to him. As he saw her hesitant smile he added: ‘it is just hanging out, nothing else’. Somehow his words reassured her and made her say yes. He told her he was taking her to one of his favorite places in the city, where he often sat to think. Along the banks of the river, they sat on a bench, their teeth clattering from the cold, but it was okay. He offered her his headphones to at least keep her ears warm, an adorable and thoughtful gesture coming from this big, tough guy who turned out to be so kind once you got to know him.

After chatting for a while, he asked her a question. The exact words she could not remember, but the answer he was expecting was one she could not even provide that easily. He had asked her to define herself, as a person. Such a seemingly simple question got her mind working over-hours and left her wondering if she was supposed to know this. Was she expected to have her answer ready just like that? True, she never had any trouble answering any other questions quick, whitty and smart, but this was different.
She sat there for some time, thinking. Meanwhile a boat passed by, making waves in the water, turning the river into somewhat of an ocean for just a little while. Finally, she explained to him who she had been, who she could be and who people thought she was.
Silently she was hoping that he did not notice that the true answer to his question had never come.

A while ago

Silently falling, the last leaves from the trees. Autumn has done its job, now it is time for the winter, in all its dashing white glory, to arrive in this country. This country where everyone complains about the cold in the winter, the heat in the summer and the rain in spring and fall. This is the land of the indecisive people that never seem to quite wrap their minds around how to behave out in the open. Skirts and tops that are way too revealing, or double jumpers and long underwear that make people sweat in public, everything is possible here.

In this world of seemingly available possibilities though, I am stuck. Stuck because I do not know where to go next. Where else will I be able to find a home as warm and comforting as I have right now, right here? It will be an absolute challenge to find something quite like this. But is that even what I want? Something similar? Similar things will bring similar problems and similar bores. To be honest, I do not think I can handle this kind of boredom again. Of course, it will also bring similar joys. However, maybe it is the point to find joy in other things, in other situations, where I am not yet used to everything. It will be challenging, it will be hard at times, and it will be disappointing at times, I am fairly certain of that. Finding happiness in a new surrounding and in a new setting will give me a more fulfilled feeling, a feeling of an actual achievement even. At least, that is what I hope.

And then, after a while, there will be the day that I return to this country and all of a sudden I will see how small my world had been before I left. It will probably strike me how simple life had been thus far, in this country where people are brutally honest about strangers, but painfully silent about people they know. Where and when I will start this new experience is something that is hard to say. I will have to arrange it, though; I cannot just let it come, because it simply will not just come. Cautious planning and careful thinking will get me there, but most important of all: my motivation. My motivation will get me wherever I want to go.

Tough life of a teenager

Oh how confusing the life of a teenager can be at times.
You want to drink, but you do not want the hangover the day after. Man, those are some serious decisions to be made. You may decide not to drink at all and still have a nice evening, but certainly it would be more spectacular, embarrassing, shocking and hilarious when you got drunk. The day after however will also be shocking, it will be shocking how horrible you look and how horrible you feel...
Another dilemma is that you want to eat the entire chocolate bar, bowl of M&M's, and jar of Ben & Jerry's, but you absolutely do not want to be a chubby kid. Because everybody knows: chubby kids are well... chubby. And that is not a positive thing. Of course there are boys that dig them lovehandles and stuff, but generally speaking you better be average sized to get yourself a decent boyfriend! Also, you want to watch the latest episode of Gossip Girl, but you do not want to have to wait a whole more week for the next one. This really is a painful dilemma. The best thing about waiting is that you can spend one entire Sunday afternoon a month watching episodes of your favorite series, preferably accompanied by a chocholate bar and a bowl of M&M's but yeah, we have addressed that issue before...
People always talk about the children in Africa being so poor and having such a tough time. But honestly, they do not even have decisions to make, so doesn't that make us, Western teenagers much more miserable? The African kids should feel sorry for us Oh the tough life of us teenagers... (and no, I am not being serious, it is called sarcasm! I can proudly say I speak sarcasm fluently)

A girl can dream, right?

Someday I will have a kitchen like this. Someday when me and my husband have moved to the British countryside with our three adorable children, that is. In the weekends we will have both our families over for luxury dinners and lazy brunches. All the cousins will play together in our backyard, playing hide and seek; chasing one another through our orchard while secretly eating all the berries and apples, because that is what kids do. There will be pillow fights and running around the house, up and down the stairs. The adults will be angry, telling the children to stop acting so foolish and just calm down and go to bed, but in our hearts we admire them for their energy and hearing their loud laughs makes us proud.

In the winter we will spend long cozy evenings not in front of the telly, but in front of the fireplace while looking at each other over our steaming cups of tea. I probably spent all of the afternoon in the kitchen with my children, baking a delicious pie for us to enjoy after our supper. And then when all is said and done, the sun has set and the children are off to bed, my husband and I will silently sit next to each other, his arms wrapped around me, counting ourselves lucky to have such a blessed life. We will realise that it could have been different, it could have been so different. My husband and I will make breakfast for our precious little children before taking them to school and go our separate ways to work. The daily rituals are always the same, but never will they be a bore. It will be our days, our lives, our little universe.

When spring finally comes after a long, cold winter, we will redecorate our house to let the fresh air in. Our children will stand against the wall and carefully measure how much they have grown over the winter and draw a new line above the old one. They will be disappointed because they want to be bigger, they want to be stronger and they want to be older. All I want is for them is to stop growing, to stay this way for just another couple of years so that I can enjoy it for just a little longer. My husband will tell me how gorgeous I look when I am sitting on a little bench in the garden, reading a book that I have read so many times already. He will kiss me on my forehead and go for a long walk with our children. When they come back we will all sit around the big and robust wooden table that my husband built with his friends. The children will raise their voices because they have so many adventures to share with me. How the youngest one tried to climb a tree and how the two siblings helped him getting out again when he had climbed too high and got scared. How their dad just stood there watching them because they had convinced them they were strong enough to solve the problem by themselves, and they were right. They had grown up.