Dream Jumper Ch 2

Dream Jumping did not happen near as often for me as a tot as it does now that I’m older. It was a gradual process at first. The only way I can explain it is that I needed practice.

That first jump that took me to the Santa Monica Pier was comparable to dipping my big toe into the immeasurable ocean for the very first time. You’re never going to dive in and immediately know how to duck dive the waves, paddle along until you reach that perfect swell, or start surfing the next big wave that comes along until after you get used to the feel of the ocean, and the salt in your mouth. Familiarizing yourself with the rush and tumble of the tide and that briny taste of nasty water takes a bit of time to settle into. The fact of the matter was, I still needed to get a feel for things, I needed to grow my sea legs. It was like learning how to ride a bike or roller skate, I had to start with my training wheels on and just keep jumping and trying, over, and over again, until I got really good at it.



In those early days I jumped to a few far-off places; but jumping didn’t happen every night that I laid my head upon my soft, fluffy pillow. More often-than-not, I found that I had no real dreams to speak of. I was that ever perpetual non-dreamer nodding off to nowhere and nothing while the stars twinkled overhead. Call me the human battery merely recharging for the up-coming days adventures.

When I did have an occasional jump, I was simply just a baby and had no means of knowing or recognizing where I was. I got lucky with that first jump by visiting a locale mama had shown me on her laptop. Sometimes I would wonder if that’s why I went there, or was able to go there, because of her stories and the pictures she showed me on the web. I was so excited to go and see it with her that I jumped straight to it after I drifted off to sleep. As far as the next few jumps I did, I could have been in Iowa, Germany, or even Iceland for as far as I knew. It was all incredibly strange to me and I was too young to know what I was doing or where I was at.

I never met anyone like Chris, either, not for a couple of years. All the people I crossed paths with during my jumps never paid a single iota to the little girl, with the frizzy brown locks, wandering the streets in her night clothes. No one said a word, no one noticed, and no one cared. The only people that noticed me along the way were people I approached and talked to – like the girl at the food truck when Chris and I bought hots dogs. I noticed it was as if they were spectators in my arena. Maybe they were more like non player characters taking part in my fantastical dream world, I hadn’t a clue what was happening. But with each new jump I gathered more evidence of my amazing ability.



The second time I jumped I found myself in a sweeping meadow of fragrant wildflowers. The sun was still up but slowly setting beyond the snowy peak of a mountaintop in the far-off distance. There was a light breeze blowing peacefully through the field that ruffled the bottom of my pale purple nightgown and gently lifted my hair so that it danced around my face. I noticed a fair mist of evening dew on the earth beneath my feet and across the meadow of blooms as I walked, holding Madeline by the tip of her teddy-bear paw. We skipped and strolled gayly through the brilliantly colored flowers lit magnificently by the fading sun. I lightly touched the delicate tips of flowers as I walked the field, drinking in the warm sunlight that remained, and naming the flowers as if they were fairies I greeted on my way.

“Hello Ariel. Good evening Fiona. How are you Mr. Caspian? Oh, Fen, you look so handsome this evening!” I giggled as I walked and talked to my flower fairy friends.

I approached the edge of the field and found a massive, flat ended stone that looked perfect for sitting. I decided to gather a few florets and blades of grass, so I turned around, tip-toed through the flowers and tenderly broke stem after stem of many different colorful blossoms. Violet purple, golden yellow, bright fuchsia, and powder blue buds filled my hands as I hummed happily. When my hands were too full to hold another bloom, I took my bouquet back to the rock, sat down on the flat end of the dark brown rock and laid my treasure upon the rock in front of me. I picked up one and then another and began to weave and twist the grass and flowers together, all the while humming and singing softly.


You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.

The other night dear, as I lay dreaming,
I dreamt I held you in my arms.
But when I woke, dear, I was mistaken.
So, I hung my head down and cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.


Mama taught me how to weave a wreath just a few months before when we went to visit granny. Granny had a field of wildflowers much like this one on her little farm in Missouri and I loved taking the blooms mama handed me and twisting them to form something so beautiful. The thought of creating something so delicate from the very flowers God created was so fascinating to me and it was a treasure I could keep, afterwards.

I continued twisting and weaving, gathering more of the blooms and adding it to my craft until I had a perfectly formed wreath of flower blossoms and meadow grass. The tiny blooms surrounded in Queen Anne’s Lace woven into a perfect flower crown fit for a fairy princess, like myself. Each flower popping forth like a colorful and bedazzling gem of sapphire, amethyst or pearl.

I placed the floral crown on top of my head, picked up Madeline and continued singing as I lay my head back to look toward the sun and soak up the last of its brilliant rays.


I’ll always love you and make you happy.
If you will only tell me the same.
But if you leave me and love another,
You’ll regret it all one day.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.
You make me happy when skies are gray.
You never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.

You never know, dear, how much I love you.
Please don’t take my sunshine away.


I gathered my precious bear into my arms and held her as I lay still upon the flat rock and the sun found its final resting place beyond the mount. I curled up into a ball, still singing my favorite song, Madeline pressed to my chest, and drifted off to sleep.



I woke the following morning to the sunlight streaming through my bedroom window and the crown of flowers laying on my downy pillow next to my head. I was still singing “You are My Sunshine”, even as I woke from my jump. I yawned and sat up in my bed, then stretched my arms out. I slipped my feet out from under my plaid cover and saw that they were dirty from walking through the misty valley at the edge of the mountain. Somewhere on Earth that meadow had been as happy as I had felt, and in my bedroom, I was scrambling out of bed to clean my dirty feet before mama found out.