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Dreamer of Dreams

I’m a sleeper. I love to crawl into bed with fluffed pillows and clean sheets and nod off. My kids are sleepers. My husband, he gets by on several hours a night. My mom, she’s a

worrier, so she doesn’t sleep at all. Where am I going with this you ask? What do you dream about?

When I was a kid, I used to dream of running so fast or flying in dreams. In college, it was missing a whole semester of a class or missing the start of a test during finals week. In my twenties, it was jet skiing at my parent's river cottage. The best dreams were when I was pregnant with my kids. I would dream about family dinners with my grandparents and family members who had passed on. So much love, thinking about it still brings a flood of happy tears.

Now I dream of the one that got away; not that old boyfriend but the terrific piece of furniture at the auction. The piece so large it doesn’t fit in my truck. The piece so expensive the hubs would kill me. I pine over pieces I’ve seen on Antiques Roadshow, American Pickers and at the local house auction. I have nightmares on what they’ve done to apiece on Flea Market Flip! I dream of this crazy big shop with high ceilings and recessed lighting to show off my fabulous antique finds. I’m never alone in these fantastic adventures; I take along friends and other shop owners, some of which I have only met in passing.

As I get ready for our holiday Open House this weekend, I’ve been surrounded by unique finds all week long. Those pieces I’ve put aside for the big TA-DA are now out and ready for sale. Does that mean my antique dreams will stop for a while? I doubt it.

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