Call me a dreamer
Welcome to my storytelling blog!
Call me a dreamer, because that’s what I am. Dreamer, writer, storyteller. Someone who tells stories in written word and oral tradition.
I’ll always remember my Grade 8 teacher. He read to my class every day after lunch. Pencils were at rest, sums and science lesson waited, but imagination soared. Never before had I listened to such stories as Swiss Family Robinson or Tom Sawyer. There were more, but those I remember.
I have always loved a good story, one that I can immerse myself in: to be the hero, the bystander, watch a drama unfold, not violent though, lest it keep me awake at nights reliving the terror.
My husband and I visited friends in Port Dover. They took us for a drive to this place. I would have liked to sit here and dream, watch boats come and go, see birds soar on the wind currents. There could be many stories on this piece of shoreline, just as there is wind and rain.
See the Muskoka chairs on the right? That’s where I wanted to sit to watch the lake, to dream and perhaps to write. Just that it was a little too windy that day and it was the backyard of a restaurant. I wonder if the waiters ever came out here for their breaks, or if it was just another scene they had become used to.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this rest from your work. Come back.
What a beautiful place to write and dream! I hope you can go back on a warmer day.
Thanks for this post. It refreshed me today.
Thanks, Joanna.
Oh, I would so love to do that. Just imagine the stories that could come from such a day and place. I wish you such a place today.