Well, a year ago, my latest dream might have been categorized a nightmare. Today, it was rather pleasant.

While off in dreamland, I found myself walking … for fun.

A year ago, my legs were used primarily for maneuvering the pedals in the car. In my pre-Maine life I was known to wander {by car} around the parking lot trying to find a parking spot three steps closer to the entrance. Walk was a four-letter word. If it wasn’t for the dog, my Fitbit wouldn’t register many steps. And I was … paunchy {polite word for fat} and tired all the time because of inactivity.

I’m still paunchy {although less paunchy} and I’m perpetually tired because of early wake-up calls from Angelina … and plenty of activity, including walking. I take her up and down the stairs and around back at least four times a day — rain, snow or shine — and when the sun is out, often for a walk through town. Lately we’ve been walking on the rec trail.

But, back to the dream. There I was just bounding down the sidewalk in some mythical town with interlocking red brick pavers, window shopping along the way. Through the refection in the glass at the florist I looked a little more like Kris Kringle from Miracle on 34th Street  with my walking stick and dressed in a gray suit with a bright red vest. Instead of a hat, I topped my attire with a gray French beret cap {which I do have … somewhere}. From the florist I made my way to the antique shop, tipping my beret to fellow travelers along the path. I waved at my hair stylist and stopped and talked with some friends. Finally, I entered an old-time soda shop/pharmacy, sat at the counter and ordered a cherry coke float…

I woke up to the thumping of a tail by my ear and glanced at the clock. 4:41. AM. Just about first light. I managed to convince her to go back to sleep for an hour or so before we went out on our walk. But I’ll be darned if I could find that soda shop…

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.