This dream goes back to 1960. Being the mother of four active children, ages six, four, two and a one year old baby, I wasn’t journaling back then but I remember the dream as if it was last night.
It was another recurring dream where night after night I dreamt about finding money. I’d be cleaning the furniture and pull out a handful of coins from deep within the sofa.
The garden was another treasure trove. Buried in the soil where I was planting flowers, was another handful of coins.
There was money between mattresses, under beds, in the sugar bowl, and in the children’s toy box. In one dream, I lifted the lid of our large outdoor garbage can and a pile of coins lined the bottom of it.
I never tired of these dreams. They were a welcome relief from the daily burden of trying to make ends meet. We were a young couple raising four little ones on one salary and there were times when money was pretty scarce.
And then a very sad, but wonderful thing happened. My grandmother Lydia, who I introduced in My Precious Life, died and in her will, left me one thousand dollars.
Do you know what? I never again dreamt about finding money.