I’m a believer in dreaming big. After all, I spend a good deal of my days sleeping, and I spend the majority of my sleep time dreaming. Why not dream big?
Most of the time, my dreams are typical dog dreams of epic squirrel chases and dog park debacles, but every now and then I dream like I would imagine people dream. In these dreams, I see myself as a respected author, the proud owner of a Porsche 911 convertible, or a salesperson who speaks people and sells happiness for free to anyone willing to buy it.
Sometimes these dreams overflow into my thoughts when I’m awake. I think its what people refer to as daydreaming.
That’s what happened today when I was in one of my most favorite places: the bay window. I’m not sure why, but I do some of my best thinking there. So today I decided to take notice of my surroundings and let them inspire me.
I see a front yard, filled with possibility. My people and I live on about a quarter acre of land in a fairly urban area, so I am grateful for all of the grass that surrounds us. To me, grass is a symbol…a promise of a bigger and brighter world welcoming our exploration.
I see a road that sees fairly minimal vehicle traffic. For this I am also thankful, as the quiet road becomes a playground for people, children and canines alike. Mom and I take walks on this road, and we encounter all kinds of exciting things. From my perch in the window, I see my pals from the neighborhood on their walks with their people and wish them well. Every now and then, that multi-colored neighborhood cat waltzes across the street and I find myself wondering whether she has a home.
And tonight, I see darkness…confirmation it is still winter in Wisconsin regardless of our freakish (and record-breaking) 60 degree day today. Our days are short this time of year, but with each passing day the sunlight gets the slightest bit longer, as if promising spring is on its way.
And I do love spring. To me, it is the season of life. It is the season when my view through the bay window evolves into something downright beautiful.
The longer I thought about what all of these things mean to me, the more I realized that dreams can be a bit like my bay window. I view my world through the lenses of the bay window, and all seems well. Even amidst the darkness of winter, my window brings me peace in knowing the sunshine of spring is on its way.
What if we could do that with our dreams? What if we could hop into our special spot in the window (or put on our bay window people lenses) and see the world as a brighter and happier place with a promising future?
What would your window look like?