Anna Bradfield Writes

Discovering the extraordinary in everyday life

The Dream of the Hover Go-Cart

Okay, so I had this dream.

It’s winter, but the sun is shining — glistening off the heaps of snow.

Yea! I love days like this.

The temperature is fairly decent, and the road has been freshly plowed. No wind.

I’m on a go-cart, navigating my way around huge snowballs — let’s just call them boulders…huge and white and menacing — left behind by the snow plow.

Funny thing. The go-cart doesn’t have wheels. It hovers close to the ground, and its fluid movement makes me think more of flying carpets than the feeling-every-rut-and-jolt ride I might expect from a go-cart. The snow has insulated the world against unnecessary noise, and I’m just floating along, enjoying the challenge of going around and over the aforementioned boulders.

I’m just about to take a turn, so I lean to the right. Out of the corner of my left eye, I see my grandson Graham playing next to a driveway. He has dug past the snow, down to mud and wet grass and — oh my — he looks like a pig in slop, but he couldn’t be happier.

“Grandma, pick me up!” he says, standing and stretching his muddy hands out toward me.

For a split second, I think about re-routing my go-cart so that I can pick him up. But the next thing I see is a litter of gargantuan basset hounds — I mean huge, like seven feet tall hounds with their big, floppy ears, paws that are too big for their short legs, and their dopey, haphazard, adorable way of roaming the earth — rise from their various states of rest and begin meandering toward me. They look friendly enough, but did I tell you how big they were? One lick from their no-doubt all-encompassing tongues and my go-cart would flip and crash. I would be left with nothing but a pile of split and splintered boards.

I gotta get outta here, I think. I grab hold of a joystick-looking thing bolted into the go-cart’s floor. How convenient. Weird that I never noticed it before… I pull it back with all my might as the hounds are stumbling over themselves and over the curb and spilling onto the street.

Whew! Dodged that potential catastrophe. But, wait! What about Graham?!?

I look down to see the four-year-old squat back down and dig into the mud. Okay, cool. None the worse for wear. But all of a sudden I’m cold and wet and need a shower. (I’m such a caring grandma…)

I don’t know how I end up here, but I find myself in a shack — it must be my house. It’s neat and warm, but you can literally look outside through the slats in the wood-paneled walls, all throughout the house. Oh, well.

I strip down to nothing and make my way to the shower when I hear something at the door. Still naked, I walk through the shack and toward the door. It sounds like my dog Gus, pawing at the door to be let in. How am I going to get him in the house without being seen? I wonder.

I crack the door the slightest bit and see not Gus but my grandson, smiling in all of his mud-caked glory.

“Graham, you couldn’t have picked a worse time,” I say. (Hey! Don’t judge! I didn’t write the script!)

And then I wake up.

Okay, so what does it mean?

I ran it past my daughter. She made some good points:

  • Everything was really, really big in the dream…the snow balls, the basset hounds…the big, blue sky that I climbed into…
  • I had to negotiate it all, and it was one thing after another, but I was having fun doing it…hey, who wouldn’t enjoy a ride on a hover go-cart?
  • Err…not sure how Graham figures in to all this. He was a mess, but he couldn’t have been happier…maybe he’s okay even if I’m not with him every second…?

So, basically, I was dreaming about my life in its current state. Rather than scare me, though, this realization freed me. Let me explain.

I have been feeling about as overwhelmed as one can feel lately.

Very recently, I was pulled from a position at work that I absolutely loved. It was meaningful to me and to others that I worked with, and I really felt like I was making a difference. But, hey. Business is business, right? Sometimes cuts need to occur and positions eliminated.

When it’s your job, you feel a little different.

I was very grateful to have another position to move into. And I can’t tell you how many well-meaning people tried to encourage me with comments like, “You know, everything happens for a reason,” and “Bloom where you’re planted,” and “God has a plan in all of this.”

All true.

I appreciated their good intentions, their love, and their support. But it all sounded like, “blah-blah-blah” in my head.

I was hurting here.

Lot’s of adjustments. Lots of hours, as I struggled to get a handle on all of my new responsibilities. Lots of new faces and new procedures and new personalities and new expectations. Lots and lots of challenges.

I wanted to feel sorry for myself. I wanted to grieve. I wanted to somehow push pause on life and give myself some time to gain my bearings.

But, you know what? Life isn’t like that. It’s one challenge after another after another.

Here’s the cool thing, though: challenges don’t have to be bad!

Find the fun in it. Be thankful for it.

Sure, grieve in bits and spurts. But don’t let it consume you. There’s too much life to live. If you’re not careful, you’ll drive right past the greatest moments of your life.

Your Inspiration Prompt: Until next time, tell us about something you learned as the result of a great challenge.

Share your thoughts in the Comments section.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/13186007@N05/4407011562″>Henry the basset hound</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/”>(license)</a>

About Anna Bradfield

Anna Bradfield has been spinning tales, exaggerating the truth, and flat-out lying almost as long as she could talk. Nowadays, though, she calls it fiction. Buy her ebooks, Hey Grampa! or Barnyard Babies today. Join the online community and receive a free copy of her ebook, Boy Crazy.

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