I love when friends dream in my nest. I catch their fleeting eyes or witness a soft smile…they’re comfortable I think to myself and it’s the best non-verbal compliment I can receive. It’s back to replenishing their half full glasses as they (we) relish in an enlightened moment. Maybe it’s the way the light swathes its warmth upon us through every wide-open window of our nest…maybe it’s the salted, touch-of-balmy breeze that passes through…or is it the carefree way the children traipse about whilst we enjoy a peak of the aquamarine in the not-so-far horizon.  My seven-year-old dreams as well in our nest. He dreams of owning a dog, a Corgi to be precise. Have you taken a close look at one recently?  They look like they have been assembled by a committee. Each individual projecting his salient opinion and no one backing down…a hodgepodge of everyone’s gratified two cents only seeing their contribution and not the whole picture. Yes, in some weird and protrusive kind of way they are cute…they are fuzzy after all, and most things fuzzy are cuddly-cute. In any case, I have to say to my son keep dreaming cauz I ain’t ready to take care of a quadruped right now. In fact in just a few months little bear will be on all fours sprawling about the hardwood floors; he can run after her, his beloved little doll, then. He adores coddling her and likes to “shuffle” when he holds her.  I cringe when he does and ask him to please try another dance move that’s not so intense like rock-a-bye baby ever so slowly. Middle bear then chimes in with his dance moves and then baby bear stares at their boisterous moves as in a trance. Keep dreaming little bears of mine…keep dreaming and may all your sweet dreams come true. In the meantime, we are working on taking care of these resilient succulents.