every little memory has a song

two nights ago i had another one of my classically odd dreams. it could have been fever induced being that i've been sick the passed few days but since i usually have these wild subconscious visions of grandeur, i'm more inclined to say that the fever had nothing to do with it. the main part of the dream dealt with me and my dad. he kept trying to get me to come down the stairs of a dock in the water right off a bridge. i was doing fine until i got closer to the water and saw how dark it was. it looked like oil spilled in the sea. my dad kept motioning me to come closer, saying it was fine and i had nothing to be afraid of. despite his reassurance i started to cry and panic, grabbing onto the railing of the dock stairs and holding on until my knuckles turned white. i told my dad i couldn't do it, i couldn't possibly get into the blackness of the water. he told me i had no choice and that the only way we could get home was to swim out to a jetty about fifty feet away from the dock and get on a row boat that was tied up there. he kept telling me that i had to do this and that it was just the way things were and that i would be alright. i don't remember if i ever got into the water with my dad, but i remember waking up and feeling shaken but reassured that my dad was just pushing me for my own good. in reality, my dad can't even swim. i think that this dream in particular enforces the fact that parents, namely my dad, push their kids to do their best. my dad has always been doing that with me and i can't thank him enough for it. i can remember being at the beach at age six and learning how to boogie board. he stayed on shore, obviously, but every time i got spat up by the ocean, mouth full of sand and sea water- he told me to get back in there and catch another wave. eventually, i got the hang of it and was proud of myself. whenever i feel like i can't do some task at hand, he is the one pushing me almost to an annoying degree. he never made winning or being the best an issue. it was always just a matter of trying your personal best and doing every possible thing you could and if i ended up not being the greatest or failing, he would still reward me because he knew i busted my ass for something. both my parents have always stressed the act of trying to me. try your best, try new things, try to be a better person, try harder. these are some of the most valuable lessons i've learned thus far. i usually attempt to push myself whether it be physically or mentally. if i can manage lifting five pounds more of weight, i'll try another five. if i have to write 500 to 700 words, i'll aim for 700- and if i fail at these things, which happens, i know i won't feel horrible about it because it wasn't for lack of trying. here's a happy list for good measure.

using the sun as a blanket, running outside, getting a package you've been waiting for in the mail, recalling childhood memories, quality time with my family, spying on rabbits in my backyard, thinking about places i'd like to visit, picturing what my future house will look like, not feeling sick, hugs, songs that remind me of certain seasons, pedicures, keeping both my windows wide open, bike riding.