I was a purple clad Viking lover, red white and blue flag waving, parade loving, three foot celebration of a tale. The tale that filled up my dreaming life was the one told about a lake house in North Dakota. I dreamt of flying above the lake like a Canadian goose, only I was wearing cute little mouse ears on my head. I was told that if I wore the hat my dreams would surely come true; my dreams would happen for me.
I dreamed of sailing a little boat into the middle of the lake. I dreamed of diving from the boat into the middle and breaking into the deep crystalline surface. I would then swim down and collect rocks from the bottom. I would show how strong I was to my grandfather. Life would be broken open and made newly awesome. My grandfather’s lake pure and simple remained a dream. In a way I am glad that my dream of getting to the lake did not occur. The inability forced me to dream big and search for the hidden treasures found in America.
