When my children were babies, we’d lie in the garden, bums in the sun (theirs not mine), and gaze up at the sky. As the clouds drifted, they’d suck their toes and I’d tell them the hopes and dreams I had for them.
“Gobble the whole apple of life, darling – even the core,” I’d whisper into their ears, as they kicked and gurgled then peed on my leg. “Live big, even if you’re always small.”
But as they grew older and we moved further from the ‘extraordinary’ of their births to the ‘ordinary’ of child raising, life became more transactional. “Eat your vegies, then we’ll go to the beach”, “Clean your room”, “Get dressed” became the dominant dialogue, and somewhere between making sandwiches (one with avocado, one without) and laundering, the dreaming disappeared.
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Could this be the year we finally get a dream-recording device?
There are many inventions I’m hanging out for this year – from automatic cheese graters, to a device that allows Kyle Sandilands to break free from his rage-limiting mortal form and roam the skies as a scowling dragon, hurling damsels with ‘90s haircuts into volcanoes.
But a gizmo that could record and playback dreams would be at the top of my list.
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