All our (DH and my) dreams disappeared with my physical limitations.

I just let my dreams evolve into new stuff, much more local...even to the point where most of my dreams are inside the house.

Maybe it has been a good thing that I have always been lousy at decorating, it makes for moving my inexpensive junk to new places. Spray painting a silly plaster 4' tall lady from the previous wall paint to a sparkling black. Best she has ever looked.

Going to the local fabric place to buy new material for my bar stools. I put an erasable "dreaded honey-do's" on the refrigerator for DH. I think he likes it 'cause he gets to erase little projects.

Trying to keep houseplants alive. Now that is a HUGE dream! Never could do that before. Bamboo is easy, needs only water and no sunlight, good for my half bath.

Cutting out the easy recipes from the newspaper and trying them. We had salmon on a bed of arugula in raspberry balsamic, oil, tomatoes, onion.

Pint size dreams. All house bound, most pretty cheap (that is part of the goal of my dreams).

It does not substitute for the disappointment of the dreams I used to have, the plans we made for this point in our lives.

And my small dreams do not make me feel better in any large way. It is just the difference between existing and having an existence.

In part, it is what I do for those around me that love me and are helpless. THEY want me to have purpose so I create dreams for them. I do not think they are aware of my machinations. They are not supposed to be aware of the darkness inside me.

In the end, I want them to remember more of the fictionalized version of me to tell at my funeral, to tell their children of my "strength."

Now as I type the above paragraph...that is a pretty big dream...huh...