I was detained from joining the land of the awake this morning by luscious vintage linens and sweet cool air. Those two ingredients generously mixed with unpaved water flume pathways, hand sewn quilts and cotton candy so pink I wouldn't be surprised if you told me I was on acid, kept me in dreamland long enough to make for a super groggy day. I spent most of the night tossing and turning and pulling the vintage floral sheet off of the mister. Once he finally stumbled into the real world, I gathered up the happy yellow quilt, tucked my smooshable hippo under my left arm and fell into the rabbit hole. My dreams were to extraordinarily vivid, I could smell the popcorn at the summer carnival and the wet pavement near the flume pathways. The story made complete sense while it played out. From the carnival rides that spun beneath picture perfect skies, the old friends and make-believe friends that joined me throughout the dream. to the absurd like the fluffy feathery hen that stood about three feet tall that acted as a guard hen to its flock and our cobblestoned street that kissed the tiny porches of our red and white gingerbread cottage complex. There was music and laughter and games and fisticuffs over the winning and not winning of technicolor vinyl doll houses.
It was a block party of where we would live if we could truly live anywhere and in anyway. We had a garden, a workshop, a cuter than cute cottage. There were wonderfully artsy neighbors, tiny hole in the wall pie palaces and chatty chickens all around. Not a car in sight but candy colored beach cruisers peppered the pathways. There were buckets of flowers and sidewalk chalk at every junction. Art was everywhere as were smiles and laughter. We had a swimming hole, and a tin-can telephone and a pygmy goat named Bernadette. It was a magical, handcrafted, bauble filled place. Not to get all creepy on you but I hope I get to visit again!