As I was getting ready for work this morning, I found myself remembering little flashes of a dream my brain had conjured the night before and the more I remembered, the more I liked it. What follows is my attempt to recount a pleasant little dream as well as pay a small tribute to one beloved children's author:
It all happened on Central Road at the Grandma's house. David and I were outside, and we were both pretty young, probably still in grade school. I remember seeing Daniel sitting over in the bushes by the part of the driveway we always parked in. He seemed to be about 1 year old, and was of course wearing only a diaper. I think he was playing with a squirrel, who seemed strangely unafraid to let Daniel pet and feed him.
Meanwhile, David and I were chopping up a tree. I'm not sure why we were being allowed to use an axe by ourselves, but I imagine it was because everyone else was just out frolicking in the woods in boisterous go-carts or unruly cars. Anyway, David challenged me to a contest of "who can throw their block of wood the highest." I readily accepted. We proceeded to launch our newly chopped wood high in the air, (granny style became our method of choice) well beyond the top of the tire swing tree. Each piece soared progressively higher, until eventually we would lose sight of them momentarily and wonder where they were going to land.
Now if you'll remember, Grandma always had an assortment of little pools around the yard, usually filled with what may have once been water with a few other things floating around. Unless they had just been filled that day, these were usually to be feared and avoided, in fact, better to walk in a wide arc around them so as to avoid any chance that your brother may reach in and splash you as you walk innocently past it. True to form, Grandma had a little plastic kiddie pool in her yard, but untrue to form, it was filled with clean, clear water. Also untrue to form or any kind of reality for that matter, there was an orange Dr. Seuss fish in the pool. On my fourth or fifth launch, my piece of wood reappeared directly over the kiddie pool. David and I watched as it came back down from the sky and landed right on the ledge of the pool, tipping it over and sending a sploosh of water over the grass.
The fish landed on the ground next to the pool, and after lying on his side for a moment, flipped up onto his tail placed his fins on his hips. (yes, he did have hips. He was a Dr. Seuss fish!) He threw me a condescending glance and then flopped back down on his belly and deftly propelled himself across the yard with his fins. Really surprisingly agile for a fish. He went and layed in the shade next to the tool shed, in the plastic flower bed. Meanwhile, I ran into the house, shouting to David that we had to find a big container to put some water in for the fish. I don't know why they pool wouldn't have worked, but for some reason it didn't.
David came into the kitchen as I was ransacking all the cupboards for a large bowl to fill with water. He looked at me for a moment, seemingly perplexed, then finally said, "You know, there are lots of fish who need water. If we're going to do it for him, we should probably do it for all of them." I had just finished filling a large bowl (I think one of the white ones we use for popcorn) with water, and was carrying it outside as David said this. He took the bowl over to the fish, who was quite ungrateful and disgruntled, and placed him inside. As he did this, I looked around. To my amazement, there were several Dr. Seuss fish, just lying on their sides in various places around the yard. None of them looked unhappy, just bored. Like they were waiting for something to happen, and they had been waiting for a long time. And then I woke up.
I imagine that in dream world, David and I are still filling up bowls of water for all the fish, maybe even some empty 2-liters for the smaller ones.
