I want to start today by wishing Carol, a friend I met through grief who also came on our cruise this past spring, good luck! In honour of her son Jamie, whom she and her husband Rod lost, Carol is going to do the CN Tower Edge Walk. She’s got more nerve than I do and she is making sure she lives large in Jamie’s memory on his birthday. Like I said, good luck, friend!
 
Perhaps it was realizing that yesterday was the 10th anniversary of Michael Jackson’s death that triggered a vivid dream of Lauren during a rare afternoon nap. The connection isn’t as faint as you might think: on the day that we heard from TMZ that Jackson had died, I called Rob immediately. He was on a streetcar in Toronto, heading to a rental place to pick up a truck we then loaded to move Lauren out of our condo to her new place in Ottawa that weekend. So that’s what memory June 25 will always hold for us. (This is where someone would write that Farrah Fawcett also died on that day. While that’s true, her death is not why I called Rob, who was off on that epic errand.)
 
My dream of Lauren was clear and cheerful. We’d spent a lot of time together – something to do with a boat and a cottage – and she ran into the kitchen to avoid evening mosquitoes. We were hugging and laughing. Next thing I saw, we were both sitting on a kitchen floor: I was chomping on a Tootsie Pop, while she munched on a Charms Pop (TP’s biggest competitor, if I remember their cartoon ads of the 70s). As syrupy spit dripped down her arm and onto the floor, Lauren said to me, “You know what’s the BEST?” I asked what. 
 
“Having a daughter you can love forever.” 
 
With that, I began to awaken, having just sung the song “Smile” by Charlie Chaplin. A loaded dream to be sure. But better than the one from a few nights earlier. Do you ever have that “job nightmare?” You know the one: something about work where you’re completely helpless and everything is going sideways, bigtime. 
 
I had the “radio nightmare” where the station was playing music endlessly but I couldn’t find a way to turn a mic on or turn off the automatic programming so that I could do the show I was supposed to do. (There are as many variations to the radio nightmare as there are radio hosts. I could go on, but basically it involves finding yourself in a scenario where your arms can’t reach the equipment to stop the music or start it, or you run into a booth to do a national newscast and all you have is a pile of concert listings.)
 
Luckily, none of that was coming true, but I always wonder what it is that’s triggering that kind of dream again. Hmm.
 
Meantime, speaking of concert listings, Rob and I are off to Vancouver today to see if we can’t relive a highlight of last year: Jeff Lynne’s Electric Light Orchestra live at Rogers Arena. I’ll fill you in here tomorrow, but I hope you have a great day. With dreams of only the best kind. 
 
And if you see somebody atop the CN Tower today, give a wave. It could be a mom celebrating her son’s life – you just never know, do you?