I think Elizabeth Gilbert and Jen Sincero are changing my (literal) dreams.

Take last night. I had the best dream.

(Ugh, yeah, I know Not a fan of dream stories either. #sorrynotsorry.)

Why so great, you ask? (of course you do. I’m making up both sides of this conversation)

It’s common to see optimism as foolishness. Because not everything “works out”—at least, not the way we pictured it.

Our specific hopes and dreams may turn out to have been, well, incorrect.

Oh, no, not that!

I think I recognize the eyes and the hair. Is that my friend Beth behind the N95 mask? (One of the all-too-familiar new brain tasks in our Covid-19 world.)

Yes, it is Beth, and we carefully hug each other hello (faces pointed away to avoid germs, sheesh) in the supermarket aisle. It has been way too long.

I really miss seeing people’s faces and hugging without fear. Sigh.

I waited at the school bus stop for E, my oldest (Kindergarten) grandchild, and looked forward to the huge smile and hug she always gives when she sees it’s me meeting the bus today.

This time, though, I got a consolation hug and a small smile. No running into my arms. No “Hi, Grandma!!!!!” . Instead, E handed me her backpack and walked four steps ahead of me to be with the two older girls who live across the street.

“Without gratitude, love cannot endure.”

This quote stood out to me in the required reading for an adult learning class on Mussar ” a traditional Jewish path of spiritual development that leads to awareness, wisdom, and transformation.” That week’s topic? Gratitude, which happens to be a vital element in Core Phrase #4 in Happier Made Simple‘s chapter about Appreciation.

I had a day on Sunday. You know, where I just couldn't shake my sadness the way I usually can.

Ever have one of those? (If you say no, then you may want to check your pulse.)

As a "happier" writer, and the person people seem to seek out when they want a more optimistic perspective, it isn't easy to fall into the occasional hole of a less-than-stellar mood.

I'm not a huge interpreter of dreams, but last night's was a doozy. My home was about to fall into a sinkhole. ( What ?!?! )

So I had to climb onto the roof, leaving behind all I had worked so hard to create. Carefully chosen wallpaper, brownies baking in the oven - all abandoned; I climbed up, nearer to the sky (with a friend, identity unknown) as the house drifted into the water (I guess I had scored a waterfront property in this dream, wahoo) - destination entirely unknown. No map. Just safety from disaster, and no choice but to trust that we would land somewhere. Somehow. And eventually we did land - on an island where my family was among others waiting to share this new experience.

Screw New Year’s Resolutions. Especially this year, unless the resolution is to just, well, stay alive. (Stupid Covid.) I can’t remember the last time I made a resolution, anyway, since my higher self knows they only make it until mid-January at best. Then it’s another whole 11½ months of Oreos buttered popcorn, and guilt until we “resolve” again.

Dearest grandbaby Eviana -

New Year's Eve Day has forever gained a new meaning, leaving things like resolutions in the dust of a much more important focus: your birthday.

This year, you will be one whole year old on December 31, and you've already changed the world. Well - ours, at least. Your joy, your love, your needs, your snarky sense of fun and play...what an amazing person you already are!

I am not a Pollyanna.

Well, maybe a little bit.

But, two days after the Election, I'm tired of feeling my stomach in knots over something I can no longer control. I'm tired of anger. And I'm sick of literally losing sleep over the reality of Donald Trump as President.