"The Grandest Dream I Ever Dreamed" a short story

It was the grandest dream I have ever dreamed. You have them, too, the glorious kind of dream wherein you see yourself in the long forgotten distant past of your life. When your legs were young and there was nothing to stop you from walking for miles just to go see a thing. A flowering bush that you haven’t seen before might call for a discovering day where you pack your knapsack with vittles fit for king to be sure.

Such was the dream I had in the wee small hours of the morn. Frolicking in the tall grasses of my home land as a lad I would call to my mother, “Today I must go for a hike to see the blue bells that are blooming the next county over.”

She would fix me a grand piece of homemade bread (of course it was homemade in those days), some cheese and fruit and a pint of liquid. That woman could cook and pack a knapsack like no other in the land. She was a sweet woman, with the dispossession of a saint and the voice of an angel as she would call after me, “be home before dark, Sonny, you’ve got chores to do.” Then, as if it were an after thought I would hear her lilting voice call after me, “I luv ya, darlin’, stay safe!”

What I would give to hear that sweet voice again, “I luv ya, darlin’, stay safe!”

On my excursion I always took one book. A book of poetry written by Robert Burns, the most gifted of poets the world has ever known.

On this particular day in my dream, I went to the sea side to see the ‘bonnie blue bells of Scotland’ and to read the poems of Robert Burns that have stayed with me throughout the years, even though the book has long since disappeared. Having found just the right place to have a picnic, I would spread onto the grasses my quilt and the feast my Mother had prepared. Oh, to taste her bread again, and the butter she had me churn was always so delightful that she would put an extra dab in my knapsack, “just in case”.

After a thorough examination of the area, and chasing the birds away, and all the while cool sea breezes blowing swiftly across my face leaving behind a salty mist, it would be time to rest, eat and read my book.

My favorite Robert Burns poem of all remains “O MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, RED ROSE”. I copy it here for you from a book I retrieved from the library just the other day.

by: Robert Burns (1759-1796)

I

, MY Luve's like a red, red rose,

That's newly sprung in June.

O, my Luve's like the melodie,

That's sweetly play'd in tune.

II

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,

So deep in luve am I,

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry.

III

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun!

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o' life shall run.

IV

And fare thee weel, my only luve,

And fare thee weel a while!

And I will come again, my luve,

Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

Do you not see why Robert Burns is my favorite poet?

Oh, that you might have such a grand memory! Do ol’ King and your self a favor today. Get out your favorite book, pack a knapsack of your favorite foods, sorry my mothers bread is no longer available, go to a ‘special place’ and dream a little dream with me.

Honestly, you too will have the grandest dream of your life. Remember this, “I luv ya, darlin’, stay safe!”