A Long Line of Dreamalists

My mom loved to mix her imagination with reality which meant her stories had a few twists I called her world Dreamality…making her a dreamalist. I remember one night when I was young We were sitting outside…just her…and me “Close your eyes.” She said, “and when you open them your star will be the first one that you see." “That star was created when you were born… when you became my son It was placed up in the heavens to announce a new life has begun.” “See how it is beating…it matches the beating of your heart… Those stars beating brightest are the new ones while those whose beats are fading are preparing to depart. “Your star remains aglow until the day you die.” She said. “for our stars are nothing if not precise at which point it will swoop down and carry your soul to paradise?” I imagine Mom was wise enough to understand the science of light diffusion how the brightness and the beating of the stars is just an optical illusion… I imagine she understood how meteoroids are just burning bits of dust and rock…quite small And, scientifically speaking, are not shooting stars at all. But that did not deter her from believing her story in totality (now you begin to understand my mom’s world of Dreamality). Mom’s star burned out years ago and, yes, I consider it quite nice to think it swooped down from above and carried her soul to paradise. Many nights I still greet my star… it’s something I can’t resist. I regard it as a gift...given to me long ago, by my Mom, the dreamalist.