Dreaming BIG

The distance is nothing; it is only the first step that is difficult.    (Madame Du Deffand)

 

Why is it when you crave chocolate, nothing else will do?  Having removed most of the sugar content in our house in an effort to 'do something positive' whilst waiting for the Tourettes appointment, I now find myself opening and shutting the fridge a zillion times looking for chocolate.  I have hidden some chocolate rolls in a cupboard for my daughter, but they are the jammie ones, and I don't really like those.  The goodie drawer is now full of nuts and three packets of quavers, but I'm not in a quaver mood.  Annoyingly, I know my daughter has a half-eaten packet of Thorntons Cocoa Dusted Truffles in her dressing table drawer.  To die for.  Only available to buy at Christmas it would seem (I have searched online, and everywhere is out of stock...even Amazon!) I bulk bought several packets at Christmas and shared them with my daughter, but sadly I bulk ate mine, while she practised restraint.  And I know she will have counted them, so no chance of sneaking one.  I have done so in the past and owned up, believing, you know, honesty is the best policy and all that (and knowing she would have counted them...) I still don't think she has forgiven me!

 

So my dream life.  I still don't quite know how I should be writing it down.  Anything to do with the Law of Attraction states that you need to write dreams as if you are already living them, so maybe I'll use that as a kind of outline and then go into more detail around the planning part.

 

I'm living in my dream house (dear Universe, please see additional blog posts for specific details) that I have paid for myself.  I can easily afford to maintain it, pay the bills and have the money to decorate it how I want.  It is a colourful house, full of love and laughter, and the oven works.

 

  My son has grown out of his Tourettes and spends most of his time in the great outdoors, riding his bike and doing things that boys should be doing.  He and his sister now get on great, and our family life is peaceful and full of joy.  My daughter and I spend many happy hours creating together, watching trashy reality TV and sobbing over impossibly romantic movies.  She has a wonderful boyfriend who treats her beautifully and he feels like part of the family.  (If this life takes a while to manifest, then perhaps said boyfriend is now her husband and grandchildren are imminent).

 

I am a successful photographer and an artist, making a steady and pretty decent income doing the things I love to do.  I spend my days capturing beautiful moments for people to treasure, and creating art that inspires (with some dozing in my hammock and a bit of shopping).

 

 I have a greenhouse and a vegetable plot and chickens (and a gardener who looks like the guy off the Diet Coke ad), and I can afford to buy organic food instead of the Value stuff.  I can even afford to have friends round for dinner.  

 

I own my car and I can fill the tank right to the top with petrol and do as many miles as I want to.

 

At last I can afford to buy clothes...and jewellery...and shoes, and I can wear things that reflect me, not my overdraft.  I shop at Fat Face and White Stuff and Joe Browns and go to Oxfam only to find quirky boho things for my house and to make art with. 

 

 I get my hair coloured professionally at the hairdresser's instead of messily in my bathroom and have a massage once a week.  I can afford to belong to a gym and choose to do all the classes or not to go at all if I don't want to. 

 

My cellulite has all gone, I am fit and toned, have pretty nails, and my feet don't look like horses' hooves.  In fact, I'm not at all embarrassed by them.

 

I have returned to dancing several nights a week, and am taking private tango and ballroom lessons (I have a dance studio in my house).  I've got some very pretty dresses and some very sparkly shoes, and my daughter and I go on dance holidays all over the world (particularly to Argentina to tango with those smouldering latin types).

 

My friends and I spend happy hours having lunch in vintage cafes, or curled up on squodgy sofas in coffee shops, discussing plans and ideas and life in general (and the guy in the Diet Coke ad).

 

My cats don't eat caterpillars and then vomit them over the rug in the lounge, nor do they miss the litter tray and poo on the floor.

 

I'm guessing that I really ought to insert 'find my true soulmate and live happily ever after' in here somewhere, but I'm a little disillusioned with men at the moment.  If  a grown-up, honest, committed man (taller than me, slim, plays chess, doesn't mind paranoid women with trust issues),  falls helplessly in love with me whilst I am creating all of the above, I'll happily insert.

 

So there it is.  The life of my dreams.  It probably doesn't sound overly 'big' in terms of dreams, I mean, I don't want a mansion or a boat or seven Gucci handbags or anything, but to me, right now, it feels huge.

 

Now I have to figure out a way of making that dream come true.