I have an active imagination that translates to dreams. I can even control them. I’ll think about a story I want to have a part in, and dream it. If I have a nightmare, I’ll lay there and think, ‘but if this happened, and that happened…’, go back to sleep and have a great story.
But one night I had an extremely vivid dream, even for me. Just a scene, really. I sat on our couch, squished against one end because my Irish Wolfhound, Strider, was also there. Wolfhounds take up couches. And beds. And floor space. And block the television and steal food from counters.
And look you right in the eye. After all, I’m short and they’re tall.
In the dream, Strider’s head was on my lap and I was running my hand over and over his rough-coated fur, crying. Hard. Because he’d been gone for a few years and I missed him, but also because I knew it was a dream. I wasn’t going to wake up with my dog soul-mate back in my life.
The dream stayed with me, just as vivid. His fur under my hand had been so real. The weight of his head on my lap. Those copper penny eyes looking up at me. Even now I get teary remembering the dream.
Then came the hot summer day when I’d been working outside. That evening I knew I’d be sore the next day so I went out to the hot tub. While soaking, clouds moved in over the mountains. And there he was. This huge cloud shaped like a wolfhound. Like he leaped from the top of the mountain into the sky where the stars were coming out, his tail streaming behind him.
I’ve never been one to see shapes in clouds. Someone will say ‘oh look, it’s a dragon!’ and I’ll think ‘looks like a cumulus cloud to me’.
A friend pointed out later that I was probably dehydrated. Hot day, sweating, sitting in a hot tub. Seeing things. I suppose she was right. But it reminded me of that dream.
So I mentioned the dream to another friend. She said it sounded like Strider was finally ready to transition and had come to tell me goodbye. Well, that made me cry. Still makes me teary.
Anyway, I’m pragmatic. I don’t believe in life after death. If anything, I think we’re bags of energy that dissipate wherever energy goes. I don’t believe in religions. I think they were man’s first attempts at creating a moral code.
But here’s the thing.
That dream was so vivid.
And since then, I always see faces and creatures in the clouds. Lots of them. Even when I’m not in the hot tub, dehydrated. I find myself looking for them, silently telling them hello.
I think Strider is out there with them, running free.
Lisa Stowe - The Story River Blog 
What a handsome fellow he was. It’s very hard when they leave us, and though I share your opinion regarding religion, I do believe in spirits because I’ve seen one — a dog (not mine. I didn’t even know him in life!). How lucky you are to be able to not only control your dreams, but actually know when you are dreaming!
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Your story about that dog reminded me that I’d written this to post about a week ago. And I do love my dream world. It’s kind of weird sometimes how I can control it, even while dreaming, but at the same time, I have lots of adventures.
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Just to clarify because I’m not sure I worded it correctly, I can control dreams by waking up, thinking what I want, then going back to sleep and dreaming it. I’ve never been able to change a dream while in the dream. Which is what made this one of Strider stand out. It was actually a strange sensation to be dreaming and yet know I was dreaming. I’ve read of that (seems to be almost a cliche in some mysteries!) but had never experienced it. Oh, and you’d have liked Strider. Big gentle giant.
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I didn’t cry till your Very Last Line. He’s GORgeous Lisa. Thanks for that first picture on the bed – shows his colossal physique!! One can cry and be so grateful all at the same time. Happiest of Thanksgivings to you and yours I give thanks for all your sharings and your marvelous pictures. Hug. Pat Larson
On Wed, Nov 22, 2017 at 12:53 PM, Lisa Stowe – The Story River Blog wrote:
> Lisa posted: “I have an active imagination that translates to dreams. I > can even control them. I’ll think about a story I want to have a part in, > and dream it. If I have a nightmare, I’ll lay there and think, ‘but if this > happened, and that happened…’, go back to sle” >
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Thanks, Pat, and happy Thanksgiving to you, too. I love that bed photo for exactly that reason – it shows his size. He was 180 pounds. He could sneak up on the bed in the middle of the night and I’d think it was the husband because the size was similar! Then I’d reach out and feel fur.
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Leave it Strider to nudge your unconscious and for you to so eloquently acknowledge the possibility of unknown things.
I too adhere to the bag of energy school of thought when it comes to afterlives, and yet every so often I love to have my firm beliefs bumped a little by life’s strangeness
Really lovely writing
I miss him too
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We all need to be reminded occasionally that life isn’t how we interpret, or believe it to be, don’t we? Instead of his heavy head on my lap, I now have a limp rag of a kitten draped over my wrists as I type. I swear she weighs the same. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if Strider visits you some day. He did love those hikes.
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Beautiful dream and story Lisa. I have the same beliefs as you. I lost my little dog two years ago…I still hear her little feet on the wood floor at times.
The funny thing is, she was a tiny 4 pound dog and our neighbor had an Irish Wolfhound who was scared to death of her! That big dog was so so sweet.
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How funny about your neighbor’s wolfhound. Mine was terrified of our cat. I’m sure when you hear those tiny feet on the wood floor it’s not your imagination!
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