MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “grandmother”

A magic herb

© Dale Rogerson

It was the image she held most prominently from the village house: the stone walls on which a large braid of garlic hung.

She found it amusing that tourists were always interested in this tradition of theirs. And she enjoyed her grandmother always having something new and interesting to tell them.

A pungent herb, garlic is one of the oldest cultivated plants, worshipped by Egyptians as a god and used as a currency.

But its most widespread ‘use’ was to ward off the evil eye, to attract good luck, as well as to make you strong and bring you courage.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

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Bear-ing a dream

bear_teddy_bear“Nanna, I had a weird dream last night.”

“Really? What did you see?”

“I saw a big brown bear. It seemed so alive!”

“A bear?” Nanna seemed surprised. And perplexed. “Was it growling?”

“Hmm, I don’t remember. But I don’t think so. Why, does it mean something different if it was?”

“No. I was simply wondering if there were any audio effects to it,” she smiled cheekily.

“Nanna! I’m serious! It scared me. What does it mean? And why did I see a bear in my sleep? So real and scary?”

“Well, my sweet Rita, you can’t expect others to interpret the messages sent by your subconscious. No matter what all these dream books and so-called-dream-experts say, you will only find the true meaning of your dreams if you search inside you. And well, you never know when you’ll realize what it means. Maybe it’s when you least expect it. Like a revelation!”

Rita seemed confused. What did the dream mean? Lost in her thoughts she was startled by Puffy, the golden retriever who came over to announce it was time for his walk. He jumped on to the chair next to her and knocked off a bunch of clothes and bags piled up there, including Rita’s favourite brown teddy bear which popped out from under a t-shirt as it fell on the floor. That very bear she had been looking for all week.

Rita smiled and looked at Nanna whose wisdom eyes gleamed in the morning sunlight. The subconscious is a funny thing after all.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Freudian Flips

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