The Week That Was, The Week We Dream

Monday Morning Musings:


“Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.”
–Langston Hughes, “Dreams”


“I dreamed of 747s

Over geometric farms

Dreams Amelia—dreams and false alarms”

–Joni Mitchell, “Amelia (1976)


“Hope lies in dreams, in imagination and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality.”

–Jonas Salk


Once my older daughter and I dreamed the same dream

in morning light, over breakfast plates

we discussed the dream, the hopes that wait

inside of you

to come at night, and go in day,

but I no longer remember what was said

the images now gone, the message, too,

there might have been a flute, or a dancer, perhaps

and I don’t know how it happened,

how our thoughts entwined or over lapsed,

but we share a common dream with many

a dream of justice for all, and ordinary,

for broken-wings that cannot fly

to soar on golden wings high into the sky.


I think of this in the fluster and bluster of the holiday season,

with thoughts that come without reason,

come now in moments of calm and comfort,

hot onion soup and warm spiced wine,


breaks for dreams and flights of fancy, transport

from tedium of work, of this and that, and revisions,

and I look down at my lap, try to imagine

the dreams of my cat, of his visions

wonder if there’s hope

or images of what has been.


I wonder what he dreams?


In the fluster and bluster of the holiday season,

I see a glorious sunset,

visible above the suburban mall,

crowning it, a coronet

of orange and red, streaked with clouds of ash-grey

pausing before I look away

to start my car

but making note of it in my mind,

nature’s art, unsigned

left behind

because it’s cold, and I’m tired

and I so I don’t linger or stay.


On my car radio, I hear John Glenn has died,

a true hero, a man with dreams,

who worked to make them come true,

but still seemed humble,

even as he soared, appreciating the sun rising and setting

but never forgetting,

truth and facts matter, too.

I think of watching space missions

on school TVs perched up high on wheeled carts

we never questioned the conditions, the positions,

life took place in black and white then

over and over, again and again,

Us and Them

Cold War and the Iron Curtain,

the phrase, the image

both terrified and perplexed me,

rather than strong and powerful,

existence seemed strained and uncertain.


But that was then,

now–who knows?

now the images are colored,

but fear and ignorance is unfurled,

black and white, some still view our world,

see iron curtains, want iron walls.

False prophets and false alarms.


I refuse to accept this new normal,

where two plus two equals whatever is

Tweeted and Re-Tweeted

till many believe what never was, is.

I read of heroes,

and I know resistance is not futile

and I will not go gently,

will listen intently,

I will rage against the dying of light

will fight for what’s right,

because there is always the crack where the light gets in.


And so—

we eat comfort food

we drink wine


watch TV

and wrap presents

we look for magic in the ordinary and the extraordinary.


Holiday Magic


And so—

I write, spread facts, not rumors

urge others to be consumers

of love and what is real

and what is already great,

but not hate.

I dare to dream,

to make dreams a reality,

to heal the broken-wings of hope

and send it flying

like 747s over geometric farms

I watch the sun rise and set

and think it is not over,

no, not yet.


We tasted some delicious wine at Sharrott Winery in Hammonton, NJ. Then drank a bottle with some brie.  And we talked of hopes and dreams.



34 thoughts on “The Week That Was, The Week We Dream

  1. This is absolutely beautiful, Merril. I read it over and over again. You got me from the beginning with Langston Hughes – what a poet – and all the way to the end with the urging for us to be ‘consumers of love.’ (FABULOUS!!!) Gave me goosebumps. As long as the light fits through those cracks, it’s not over. It’s never over.

  2. On Friday my financial advisor hosted a holiday party complete with cheap lottery tickets for all. A micro-biologist sat at our table. She told us she dreams winning lottery numbers, citing 1-3-5 which won her big bucks sometime this year. When I scratched numbers on my ticket at the party, I discovered I had won $ 4.00. Somehow I misplaced the ticket and will be able to brag I won lottery dollars.

    I’d rather dream a dream like singer Susan Boyle – more substantial, I think. 🙂

  3. Well said, Merril. I have struggled with what I can DO in the face of what’s happening these days. I came to similar actions as you: spread facts not rumors and smile/be kind to every single person I encounter. The best to you and your family this holiday season.

  4. Pingback: A Monday meander – breezes at dawn

  5. I often wonder what my cats dream about, too. I love this, Merril, and have read it several times now. “Consumers of love.” Wouldn’t that be a wonderful thing?

  6. I admired Langston Hughes and have liked this particular quote for some time now, Merril.
    I have been dreaming of childhood times, ones which were sad and dramatic through a nine and later, ten year old’s eyes. Deaths of JFK, Jr, RFK, and MLK, Jr with Malcolm X, who my Mom insisted that the Westlake HS school board purchase with her courses’ budget and allow his book to be read by her (college bound) World Literature class. It held words of a desperate choice to Act upon the Need for Freedom.

    Thank you for nods of recent losses of John Glenn ❤ and using Leonard Cohen's words in his remembrance. ❤

    I have hope that this will mean we can pull through this traumatic period in our lives. We have done this before, we will get through this, Merril.
    Not hands across the water, but (I love your image) soaring with golden wings shining across the skies of hope, peace and love.

  7. Dream we do – and believe in the dream. This is very beautiful Merril thank you so much. There is so much beauty everywhere – in the clouds against the blue sky and the greenth of the trees and colour of plants and blossoms as I look out from my study, my two ginger cats sprawled on the grass in the shade (actually my son’s cats we’ve been care-taking for many a year). Those cracks – that’s where the light gets in … in amidst the fluster and bluster – I will be re-reading this beautiful piece of prose again, thank you again!

  8. I will rage against the dying of light

    will fight for what’s right,

    because there is always the crack where the light gets in.

    So eloquent and wise you are, my lovely blogger friend! I will be fighting right beside you. xo

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