Last night I dreamt that Grandma was alive.
How? How did you do it?
I can't remember what she said, but somewhere else in my dream I was among a group of children who were under a spell, and were only freed when water was sprinkled on them in the name of Jesus. It was one of those dreams that transcends the mundane salt, pepper and emails dreaming that often settles when you are 'grown up'. It reminded me of this dream I had months ago, and both remind me of medieval dream visions.
Today I looked through Grandma's old read diary, where she penned down thoughts she had while sitting in her pink arm chair in Pinford End. I can imagine her writing, and her voice comes through so clearly, sometimes in the words she chooses that I only knew her to use ('ablutions') and other times in the hesitation and care with which she wrote.
(On our Christmas day meal, family, and love)
'It just reflects what the word FAMILY can be. Today was a microcosm of what has happened, over space and time. It just reminds us of the word LOVE. It is not a flimsy, perfumed, airy, atmosphere. It is a pen and pencil, shopping lists for provisions, shopping for let's say this and that at festive time. That aspect needs patience, thought, action, reason logic, availability of money, transport amongst other things.'
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