Dreaming of a memory

I took Emme to see the Nutcracker this past Saturday. It has become an annual tradition and some of you faithful readers of this blog may remember that I'm not a huge fan of the Nutcracker. Why I decided to go again this year, I don't really know - but a friend was taking her daughter and suggested we go together. And because I have trouble saying "no" - we were set for the Saturday afternoon performance. But, this year I didn't review the ballet with Emme as I did last year. And much to my surprise and thanks to her public education of "learning through the arts", she had a firm understanding of the ballet. She knew what to expect and anxiously awaited the dancers' venture into the Land of the Sweets. I am almost ashamed to admit that I think she knows the ballet better than I do. I was amazed at what she remembered from her Kindergarten class in which they were learning about the Nutcracker. Her command of the ballet let her ask good question - one which I am pondering even tonight. She asked if you could "dream of a memory". When I asked her what she meant, as we enjoyed intermission and our quest for a bathroom, she said that she wanted to know if it was okay to dream about something that already happened or do dreams have to be of something that doesn't exist. I wasn't sure how to answer her at the time in part because I wasn't sure how best to answer and in part because I was afraid if I said "yes" outright that she may grow up to be like me and be too afraid to dream of possibilities and instead end of dreaming of days gone by instead of days yet to come. I cherish my memories - at times they are the only things that warm my heart when the days seem cold. But at other times, dreaming of memories can be painful because you long so much for them to not exist in the past that it can paralyze you from dreaming or from creating any more memories. And yet, Emme is so full of life - so full of what could be that I can't ever see her not dreaming. It would go against who she is and who she is meant to be. She is my beautiful dreamer and my beautiful daughter who tonight, will help me dream of a memory of a hand slipping into mine and a soft voice saying "I'm happy to be here with you" ... and I will dream of another time when this might happen again.