It's no secret that dogs dream. Their paws move and you know they're running free in their dream world. They talk in their sleep, snuffling noises, little barks, sometimes whining. Bessie Anne was snoozing on the couch yesterday afternoon and she was in a happy dream. I heard a thump...her tail was starting to wag, and as whoever or whatever it was that she was greeting came closer in her world, her tail started going to beat the band. It's nice to think that my little companion and friend is happy, even with her eyes closed.
I envision a dream of my own in which I am confronted by a committee of squirrels, demanding air conditioning in the barn and wanting to know when they're going to get satellite hook-up. I made up the bed last night with freshly washed sheets taken from the clothesline in the afternoon. What a wonderful feel and smell. My mother didn't get a dryer until I was fourteen, so the smell of air-dried sheets is what I grew up with. I was in bed sick a lot as a kid, and the feel of fresh, crisp sheets still comforts me. One needs comforting when one dreams of squabbling squirrels.