Albeit, it is not the noblest of dreams. Not even close. But a dream is a dream no matter how small. Or something like that.

Anyway.

I just came across an Amazon gift card that had kindly been given to me by my pop’s dear cousin, making her my second cousin (I think that’s how that works). I had completely forgotten about it, but just found it at the bottom of a bag. I need some shampoo and conditioner, so the boring and decidedly non-dream-come-true part of this story is that I found some good stuff on Amazon and purchased it.

Yawn, I know.

But.

Then I decided to just check and see if Betsey Johnson has any of her dresses for sale on Amazon. Because I love her dresses. You don’t understand. The colors she uses–they’re bright. Flower bright. And looking at her dresses is like walking into a candy shop. And who doesn’t want to wear candy? But, the price. Oh me, oh my. Let’s just say that her dresses are way more expensive than candy. I mean, tons more. Basically, unaffordable for this artist.

But lo and behold, she had some dresses way on sale. Way, way on sale. And I found one that I both like and could buy with my gift card and wabam! I am now the proud owner of a Betsey Johnson dress.

It’s cute, too. Pinstripes and roses. And who doesn’t want to wear pinstripes and roses? Okay, I’ll stop with the italicized rhetorical questions. At least for now.

Anyway, dreams really do come true sometimes.

But, honestly? The kinds of
dreams that cannot be bought on amazon are a little bit better.

Okay, a lot.

A lot better.

But still, I’ll take this little dream come true, because beggars can’t be choosers, is what they say. And aren’t we all beggars, to a certain extent? Beggars of the dreams that drive us to get up each morning and craft a day into another day until we have a life that we hope reflects them. Beggars that stand on the road and ask for twopence, a dime, or maybe–should we dare?–even more of the dreams that flit and fly by, causing us to trade our entreating, empty palms for fistfuls of tangible…stuff…Grasped like beggars, we hold on tightly, for fear that it’s just a dream, after all.

Which is funny, because a dream come true is just a dream, after all.

Or maybe remove the word ‘just.’ Throw in the weight of significance instead. Cause dreams weigh quite a lot. And life is made heavy with our dreams, while our hearts are made lighter with each dream realized, I think.

They all start the same way, mostly.

I generally get so hungry that I am reduced to opening my eyes. Nice and slow. Maybe even one at a time.

But about being hungry–every morning I wake up to a belly that acts like I’ve never put anything in it for the entirety of its existence. And believe me, this is not true. So I’m all, Listen, belly. I got up in the middle of the night, not even five hours ago, in order to creep up to the kitchen and eat; can’t you at least act grateful? But it’s all, WAAaaaaaaaaa!!!! and my reasoning is completely lost on it until I eat some cereal.

But before I get to the cereal part, I blearily walk to the bathroom and attend to business.

But sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and bam! I see my hair.

And it looks like I was visited in the night by The Hair Fairy, who is maybe The Milk Fairy’s second cousin once removed, but was definitely a stylist on the set of The Wedding Singer.  And she comes in with her curling iron, her hairspray, and her wrists that can tease hair a hundred strokes a minute.

And by the time I get up in the morning, I look like this.
And oh, baby, those bangs. So I document it, because–well, look at it. Flock of Seagulls should totally ask me to do their reunion tour. I can play keys, guys. And I can harmonize to whatever you throw my way. Oh, and I have a little treewood guitar, but please don’t ask me to use a pick. I’ll make up for the lack of a pick with my bangs, though, promise.

But then it gets better.

Cause I decide to run my hands through my hair, embellishing The Hair Fairy’s work just a bit, and I get this.

And as you can see, it makes me totally happy.
I’m so in with Flock of Seagulls.