I'm not the kind of person who normally remembers my dreams. if perchance I wake mid-dream it may hover in my mind for a bit but often evaporates by the time I've brushd my teeth.
perhaps sleeping in my boyhood bedroom was magic. dreams were plentiful & rememberd. my first nite I dreamt I was visiting old friend Jean-Claude van Itallie. the next nite I was trying to write a poem. the initial line: "once a bird was caught by a line of poetry." every time I attemptd a second line I'd awaken or dream I'd awakend -- but soon wd be dreaming again abt trying to complete the poem.
on the third nite I was pitching a Calamity Jane script to a dubious Ellen DeGeneres.
the final nite's dream was abt a power struggle at a university library with cameos by everyone from my mother to Barry Goldwater.
as far as I know Aunt Sophie's trumpet vine in Mom & Dad's backyard had nothing to do with my dreaming but then... maybe it did.