Sarah, my youngest daughter, is 10 years old here. Of what does a 10 year old dream?
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I was 10 in 1971. My family had just left the frigid winters in Edmonton for the wet of the Pacific west coast. Our family rented
a small cottage in Qualicum Bay on the east coast of Vancouver Island. My older sister, Caren, got the bedroom, I got the
closet, really. My bed barely fit in. But I loved it.
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One of the first night we were there, we were all awakened by Caren screaming. Dad leapt up and rushed to her room.
She said that she had seen a ghost walking through her room. Dad turned out the light again and, sure enough, within a
few seconds, the ghostly white apparition returned, strolling casually across the room.
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As it happens, the Three Sisters lighthouse on Quadra Island was strong enough to reach across the miles of the Johnstone
Strait on a clear night. As the light swept our shoreline, it panned through her bedroom window, creating a very effective
and animated ghost. That event altered Caren’s dreams for quite some time.
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The three years we lived there engendered some of the fondest memories of my childhood. Perhaps that’s why I can’t recall
my own dreams of that time. I was just plain happy. If you have that, there’s not much more you really need.
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Mark Heine