When I knit, there may be a lit screen by my lap that I turn to, but I almost never follow the pattern, with the exception of an awesome pattern for baby booties I found. Instead, it’s a small dream in my head, a hologram that I can turn over in my mind’s eye, examining every stitch before it manifests between my needles. When I loop the final stitch and sew the end into nonexistence, my little dream manifests into a functional, tangible object (I never make something that’s purely ornamental). In a sense, I make my dreams come true. There’s nothing more surreal than seeing your dream held in another person’s hands, and it fills me with joy to see Guinevere shove the texture-toy I made in between her gums, or kick her feet in excitement when she’s wearing the oversized booties I made in breaks in between calls at work.
During our online meeting, I looked up from my screen to see Edward toying with one of the texture toys, mindlessly turning it over in his hand while he shared plans for the headquarters of the charity that were recently acquired, which we’ll be moving in to. I considered how different scenes in my head came together to make a surreal landscape. Alice will be working with Bailey and me in the call center to bring in money until the charity picks up steam. I’ll have my family in my workplace; my home will be immersed physically and figuratively in the environment for my career. The categories I set for my life are being shuffled around. My nightmares find their way into my reality, but so do my dreams.
I even get mixed up about my age, it’s a wonder I can keep my name straight.