A personal essay by Nancy Bravo Creager

Dream Catcher

by Nancy Bravo Creager

Today at noon, while the sun shines like enamel, and my ivory hair glows in a loud ponytail, I have one wish. I wish to go to the land of dreams.

I will not need a travel agent. I will walk a simple side road; its white gravel ribbon will guide me, one step at a time.

I will not need an iron-clad itinerary—I will be free of times, agendas, and outlines. Sometimes I may even bathe in spontaneous flares of seasons; suns and snows and serenades.

And I will not need luggage, I have what I need; this hunger for insight, playful, like flapping veils dancing in the wind.

I am pulling away from Gloom City.

I am pulling away from unfortunate happenings. Some of them are temporary—a lingering cold, a touch of arthritis. Some are everlasting—the loss of my grandson, the loss of sight in my left eye. And the ache, like a worn-out wagon going through a nasty patch of ground, jolts and scrapes and screeches at my core. And I wish, oh how I wish that these slashes could be subtle, like a verse. The snow shines brighter on the winter grass—

I will find bumps in my way to dreamland, but I will see my grandson again—his smile, always reminded me of a radiant moon. And my left eye will wake from its slumber, and I will see the furthest star.

That day I will think of marigolds, how they withstand the winter frost and yet, they bloom in spring.

I might navigate uncertain weather, endure the ruffle of wind, and still I will be open to dream catching.


Nancy Bravo Creager is 82 years young, and a visually-impaired writer, residing in Washington State. English is her second language; she was born in Chile many moons ago.  She has been published in Chicken Soup for the Soul, Ruminate Magazine, PNWA Author-on line Magazine, and Peninsula Poets.  She is also a co-writer of the anthologies Pieces of Her Heart, and One for the Birds.

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