About Me

My photo
London, United Kingdom
Holly Searle is a writer who was born in Westminster in the middle of London. She shares her birthday with Jarvis Cocker and David Seaman and like Jarvis Cocker she wears glasses but has nothing whatsoever in common with David Seaman. She is fascinated by words, people and their stories, and regularly spends hours fantasising about being offered a weekly column. She has a degree in Film and Television which she gained from Brunel University in 1997. She has been blessed with two quite remarkable children whom she adores. She enjoys the company of her friends and the circus that is life. Long Walk to Forever by Kurt Vonnegut is her favourite short story. She is the author of the published children's tale The Story of Balan Singh, and is currently working on her first book.

Tuesday, 15 January 2013

I Dreamed A Dream By Holly Searle





I always sleep well.

I sleep especially well if I am reading a good book. Probably I should imagine, because it always helps too settle me, and see me off to the Land of Nod with a woodpile of wonders that alight my mind palace during the course of the night.

It's a wonderful thing, to be able to sleep well and dream a dream.

I don't always remember the dreams I dream. More often than not, I just recall a sense of their presence. A echo of their essence and their very being, and the warmth of what they have bestowed upon me.

It's nice, and I wake refreshed after resting my mind in that fickle floatation tank of my sleeping hours.

And this morning I snoozed awhile and dreamed a dream that I did recall.

In my dream I was placed upon a pedestal of love by a man (and no, that isn't a euphemism).

I felt it, that love. And it wasn't an inappropriate or misguided sort of feeling. It was a like a beacon (I think), to reignite a spark of remembrance in my very soul.

Now, now. I know that I am loved. I know this to infinity and beyond.

No, this was that missing piece of my own personal jigsaw puzzle of love. Man love. Missing man love. Putting a poster on a tree missing man love. A mirage in the desert sort of thing. I saw it shimmering in front of me and then I woke up.


In the dream I dreamed, I was wanted and held and loved. It felt right and rewarding. And the funny thing was, that once I woke, I didn't feel sad, I just felt happy.

Maybe my unconscious mind was giving me a nudge like a pinball machine. It was awarding me an extra ball and extra long flippers, to prevent my letting the future chance of this love fall well and truly down the drain.


Maybe, it was telling me that this love game, isn't Game Over, just yet.

I scratched my head, and adopted the fixed expression of one that who is vexed by the very notion of the possibility and got up.


And then, in the afternoon, I went to see Les Miserables with Child One.


It is a scrumptious stellar smorgasbord of woe and loss. A dalliance of desperadoes doomed due to circumstances beyond their control, who find eventual unmitigated redemption before the titles roll.

My advice. Take a tissue or two for a shifty snifter in the dark.

As I sat there in the dark, it suddenly dawn on me that I had expected to be more emotionally moved by its content than I actually was.

Again, I pulled that face. But I drew the conclusion that I wasn't any less emotionless, I was just being objective about it all, rather than subjective.

I thought that that was a new one on me.

But of course, there is that song. The Les Britain's Got Talent Susan Boyle Miserables I dreamed a dream song.

A song now not only synonymous with the grief and the bewilderment of life, but also, the misconception of humanity that is now and forever entwined with the belief that anything is possible (and probable) if we never give up giving up.

It's a lovely song. A heartfelt lyric that would haunt even those that do not believe in wearing their hearts on their sleeves.

And of course those that keep on keeping on.

You'll be humming it for a while after viewing that film, as well as thinking about the strength of its intent.

And here is what I think.

I think I dreamed that dream. I lamented a smidgen in those previous chapters of my life.

And then I dreamed that dream and I felt good about it all.

And then I heard I Dreamed a Dream and it all suddenly made sense.

And now, I am up for a game of pinball, extra long flippers and all.

Sleep well and dream a dream.






1 comment:

Cathy Harris said...

Splendid, you always make me feel just how you're feeling with your writing x A perfect piece, lovely x x x