I have some delicious memories of my maternal Grandmother. She used to tell me about her dreams, and even now, I envy that gift... remembering dreams. I have a dream journal by my bed. I wake up to them, but as soon as I reach for that journal, they slip away. This week's class invites us to record our dreams, and also to do some active imagining.
I'd like to say I see something. But only once during the course, so far. And you cannot force dreams.
I changed my mind about the Pat Sloan block of the week group after doing some calculating. She wants 40 FQs for the project, plus 5 more yards of fabric. I am going to make a lap top size Disappearing 4-patch & have set aside 12 of the FQs for it.
Obviously, I am using my logical brain in the practical planning, and think there is not enough of my brain to go around to dream. My Gramma Lizzy was a dreamer. She told me so. She was so much more in her living moments. Lizzy made aprons and I have a hard time sewing them. She walked the Earth and collected leaves in the Fall that she pressed between pages in books & magazines. She raised chickens, children and plants in her gardens. She was a dreamer, a wise woman, and loving towards me.
I'll keep an eye on that block of the week quilt because it's titled GRANDMA'S KITCHEN. And I am one of the lucky ones who got to know both my Grandmothers. I wanted to make the quilt in her memory. Just because I changed my mind about the quilt doesn't mean I changed the love I feel for the women or how much I miss them. Still.