Dreams are an odd thing. It seems that no matter how old we are, we never stop running away from a monster that is chasing us. I talked to my mom a few days ago and she told me about a dream she had the night before that was basically Jurassic Park going on in my parents' house. My brother and I were both there, and both my mom and dad, and there were velociraptors trying to get us and we kept hiding. She woke up alone on the couch at 2 am (my dad was out of town at the time), pulse racing and unable to fall back asleep.
The same night I had a dream that I was in Michigan; or not quite, I knew I was along the shoreline in Michigan City, Indiana. I could recognize the lighthouse and the area where pickup trucks were putting small motorboats into the water. The roads were really terrible (more like Michigan, actually- thanks again for the decade of disaster with Gov. John Engler), and driving was nearly impossible. There was a great, green monster in the road, making shadow puppets against the pavement by the light of the sun.
My grandparents in Michigan sent me this picture of what the lake winds did recently in their neighborhood. Between the dream and the memory of the sound of the water on days like this, I actually, genuinely missed the midwest today. Ok, maybe just the lake and maybe only for about 10 minutes, but the nostalgia was there. Michigan, you're always in my heart.
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