When Dreams Align

Dear Diary,

It has been a while since I shared something here. Well…guess what? I dreamt that I had the best New Year’s Day lunch with my closest relatives.  

Everyone showed up and was on their best behavior. We shared our New Years resolutions (all the things we wanted), buried the hatchet with those who hurt our feelings throughout the year, forgave one another, and reflected about those things we couldn’t or didn’t do in the previous year, while pretending that we all liked each other.

It was simply extraordinary, and this is how it went.  

As we traditionally did, all family members were invited to lunch at the house, and everyone volunteered to bring a dish—which was a nice surprise. Mom wanted a mix of things: something savory, a main course, and some desert.  

On the day of, she was busy (as usual) fussing over her mashed potatoes. This was the only thing she could make and yet it was always with some drama. Truth being told, Mom was not the best cook. While you know much, we all love her to death, we all also wanted to start off the year with something good to taste in our mouths.

She kept saying that she had forgotten to buy more butter—I always thought she drowned it in butter, but never mind me—and she was nearly in tears for just that. Mashed potatoes were Dad’s favorite, as she loved to say. I knew he did not care that much about it because he always spoon-fed Rufus generously under the table. Everyone knew about this, except for Mom!

Lunch was planned for noon. By eleven, people started to come in and Grandpa who was still in his pjs. He was the passive observant of our daily routines. Always quiet but looking at the minute details of our lives while reading his morning newspaper, with coffee on one side and a cigarette and ashtray on the other.

All of a sudden, Dad stormed in the kitchen.

“Didn’t the doctor tell you to stop smoking?” he said, yelling at his own father. He was also looking for something in his pockets.

“I lost my keys. Did anyone see my keys?”

“What keys, hon’?” Mom turned to say.

“The ones…never mind. I just found them. They were on the counter. I must have left them here, after taking Rufus for a walk earlier. But Dad, seriously?! Today? No smoking today in the house. Please…”

By that time, Aunt Jess and Uncle Jeff were at the door. They were carrying lots of bags.

Aunt Jess—aka our own “Martha Stewart”—had been cooking for days. She brough all my favorites. I could tell when I saw the labels scotched on top of each Tupperware.  We had stuffed cabbage, lentils (she said for good luck), mushroom soup, and roasted pork that needed to cook a bit longer, so she insisted we place in the oven.

Meanwhile, Uncle Jeff had the piece de resistance: a black forest made with cherry liqueur and whipped cream on top.

“Happy New Year!” he said, after placing the cake in the fridge and rubbing his hands.

“Brrr….it’s so cold out there. Glad to be in this kitchen. So warm and cozy in here. Hey Dad!”

“Oh my! This is a feast, Jeff—” Mom said interrupting him. “You shouldn’t have. We will have so many leftovers.”   

“Well, that’s the plan! Enough for everyone to carry home!”

“Let me help you with that, Uncle Jeff. Grandpa, can you scoot over so I can place the food in the middle?”

“Am I on your way sweetheart? So sorry,” he replied, barely pushing his chair to the side.

Grandpa didn’t do much around the house, but he knew everything about everyone in the family.  Whenever you thought he would be the last to know, that’s when he would surprise you with more details.

Like that, he was observing the workflow around the kitchen, checking who was parking and coming in, and who had brought what. At times, he would stand up to check the food, raise his eyebrows—as if doubting how good it might be good—and then take a seat.  

While I tried my best to avoid knocking his coffee whenever I took the porcelain dishes or silverware to the dinner table, Mom would whisper, “It’s okay hon, don’t mind him. Just keep going.”

I had counted twelve plates because we had a total of eight confirmations. Some family members had said they would be traveling and not make it, others did not even respond.

She knew which table linen she wanted to use, and we planned to light some candles in the middle before everyone took their seat at the table. The usual stuff, but with Mom the table was so pretty.

When Aunt Jess walked back in after checking the dinner table, she immediately grabbed a chair next to Grandpa. They got along so well and exchanged family secrets. I called it “gossip time” and sometimes I would eavesdrop of them to also be in the know.    

“Did you leave a sign at the door, hon?” Mom asked me.

“Yes, I did!”

“So, this must be Annabelle ringing. She would never come in just like that. Can someone get the door?” she shouted.

Annabelle was one of our neighbors. She was a widowed and often talked about her lonely life without Archie, her husband of over sixty years. Mom thought she and grandpa should get to know each other more, sort of keep each other company.

Grandpa had an eye for the ladies, so he didn’t mind she was invited at our family holiday lunch.

As she walked in, all of us couldn’t help noticing how elegant she was. Almost like a belle going to the ball: a fur coat, ballroom-type dress with a sweater, matching shoes, and handbag. She had a small bouquet of flowers and insisted on having it placed on the table. She also surprised us with some of her southern greens and cornbread. I couldn’t wait to taste those!  

I had been up early with a sense of anticipation of how this family time might go. I went back and forth between the kitchen to the dining room. Each time, I was greeted by the rich and comforting aroma of buttery fluffy mashed potatoes. That creamy and smooth texture of the potatoes filled the air, making my taste buds tingle with anticipation. Mom made them just right. But again, that was the only thing we could make. We all praise her for that.

Little by little, the house filled up with family members. Everyone was so chic, I thought. By noon, we almost had a full house.

The tantalizing smell of the pork roast in the oven filled the air, creating an irresistible temptation that was hard to resist. Even Rufus, the dog, was jumping around. He knew very well someone would give feed him something yummy.

Kyle, my little cousin, was so happy to get to play with him. Honestly, this was a relief. Someone else had all the energy that our pup looked for.

The only guests to arrive late were Michael and Cousin Michaela. They did not bring anything. Mom had insisted they did not. My cousin was like Mom, not the greatest cook.

As a couple, the two looked so happy when they walked in. I thought it was infectious the way they laughed and joked about everything.

Meanwhile, grandpa had also gone upstairs to change. When he came back, he looked so dashing. I was sure it was to impress a special someone in the room.  

The house was now buzzing and smelled amazing with all the food that placed on the table. I helped Mom and Aunt Jess bring the food to the dining table.

When it was time to sit down, Mom and Dad sat at the head of the table, while everyone took a seat, wherever they liked. There was no protocol about that. Except that I noticed two striking things: Grandpa and Annabelle sat next to one another, and Michael and Michaela faced each other. They were playing footsie under the table because Rufus took Michaela’s shoe and run with it.  

As we all sat at the table, everything came together. The setting was beautiful and the aroma of warm and freshly cooked food filled the air.

Our first course was the mushroom soup. Mom decided to serve it with cornbread. The aroma of the soup added a touch of earthy richness to the first meal and created a comforting and cozy atmosphere. Annabelle’s sweet and buttery cornbread completed this symphony of aromas. It was impossible to resist.

Then, we moved on to the vegetables, the greens and cabbage served with the pork roast. The collard greens brought a touch of bitterness.

They had been “cooked to perfection,” as Mom said. She wanted the recipe from Annabelle.

The smoky aroma of the grilled vegetables, mixed with the other dishes, created a unique combination, both appetizing and invigorating. It was a cold day after all.

What was striking is that around this pleasant family meal, we all wore smiles that hid our underlying tensions and worries. For a fraction of a second, we set aside our differences and embraced the joy of the moment.

It was a true feast for the senses, promising a memorable experience for all. Laughter and light conversations filled the dining room, temporarily masking the deeply rooted issues that had plagued us, as a family, for years.

But as the lunch progressed, strange things began to unfold. The doorbell started ringing uncontrollably, almost as a wake-up call. My head felt oozy. Everything turned as an ethereal experience. People appeared to be talking on top of each other. It felt as if time itself was playing tricks on us. Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation wash over me.

Amid the laughter and merriment around the table, my mind started to wander and spin. I was in a dream world, where everything seemed suddenly too perfect to be true. This is why my family's conflicts were resolved, and we were united in love and harmony. It was the kind of future I had always wanted.

For once, Dad was not busy checking his phone and kept looking at Mom very lovingly. He kept talking about her as if they had not been married for decades. He wanted to renew their wedding vows.

Grandpa enjoyed Annabelle’s company and was so looking forward to speaking with her. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that Mom thought she played cupid on them.  

Michaela and Michael talked about their plans to start a family soon. They were holding each other’s hands.

Aunt Jess and Uncle Jeff talked at length about their safari in Kenya and Tanzania in a few weeks. They couldn’t wait to get away.

I enjoyed playing with little cousin Kyle. I taught him a few tricks that “older kids” do. He had his entire dinosaur collection with him and showed me all of them, one by one.  We had fun pretending to fight one giant against the other.  

Just as I was about to lose myself completely in this dreamlike reality, a jolt brought me back to the present moment. I looked around the table, with a mix of confusion and disappointment.  It was still New Year's Eve. The dream had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination.

As the clock struck midnight, I looked around the table, observing my family members with newfound understanding. I realized that the lunch we had shared was simply a dream, or better yet, a glimpse into the future we could create together, if we chose to let go of our past grievances.

With a renewed sense of hope, I made it my New Year’s resolution to confront every family member and share my dream and the powerful message it held.  I believed that if they listened, they would be moved by the possibility of a brighter future.

And so, with trembling hands, I am here today, writing on my diary and pouring my heart onto these pages to lay out my plan. I will continue to write about the love and unity I had witnessed. This is my moment to put on paper my deepest desires for our family to heal and grow.

From this day forward, I hope they will agree to make a pact to work through our differences, to support and love each other unconditionally. While the dream I had served as a wake-up call, reminding us of the importance of family and the potential for growth and change, it could also happen.

My wish when the next New Year's Day arrives, is that we gather once again for lunch. This time, however, the tensions will be replaced by genuine laughter, understanding, and a shared commitment to building a stronger, more loving bond.

As we raised our glasses to toast the new year, I couldn't help but smile. The dream had become a reality. The best lunch we had ever shared was not just a figment of my imagination, but a symbol of the love and unity we had finally found.

With love,

Sarah