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The past two years have been all about adjusting to motherhood and finding my way through it via craft. The out pouring of this came in the form of my blog Aunty Mum. Now I'm finally finding my feet, the children are growing, I'm getting some independence and my interests are morphing . . . into cooking. Join me in exploring creativity in many forms, food, fabric, frowns and laughter.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

The Dream

So . . . the dream. Hopefully, two days later I can do it justice.

It was at a place of work and there was a man. He was tall, dark hair, peaches and cream skin, dark brown eyes framed by black lashes; eyes that you could swear would light the darkest night. And it was a relationship of ultimate love and passion all framed within the context of friendship. No physical contact, no declarations of love, no office romances: a friendship of the deepest proportions which, given the right circumstances, would be a romance to rival anything Jane Austen could trifle with.

It was a friendship that was doomed by heartbreak when he was diagnosed with a speedy terminal cancer. I was, very soon, about to lose my best friend, my deepest desire and there was nothing to be done about it.

It goes without saying that he died, and after the funeral a thank you card arrived from the family for my attendance and my flowers. In it, the card stated that it was obvious how much we cared for each other but I was always to remember . . . he was loved totally by three people. Three? After a little digging I discovered that this man, my best friend in the world, the one true love of my life had a small child and a wife. I was devastated. We had spent eight hours a day together, we'd socialised together, we'd shared our deepest secrets and yet I knew nothing of them.

Needless to say it was with tears on my face that I woke up on the boat, sun shining through the window and my brain sifting through every man I knew for some recognition of the one from my dream. I have never seen him before. I wonder where he came from.

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