Heather's Dream

I know this was supposed to be a recent dream, but I’m moving too fast to remember my dreams lately.  Here is a particularly memorable dream I had when I was in high school.

My parents and I make our way into the crowded room.  We are a little late and the meeting has already started.  I look around and see many of my classmates sitting with their parents.  These are the best of the best from my prestigious high school.  One shows great promise in physics, another is already taking college chemistry and math classes.  My boyfriend, a future chemistry major himself, has saved seats for my parents and me.  We whisper apologies as we make our way in front of a row of occupied folding chairs and take our seats.  The room is cold and I shiver as I lower myself into a metal seat.           

“The greatest academic honor our government can bestow…” the speaker is saying.  He is dressed in a dark suit and tie, and is flanked by other similarly attired, sober-faced men.  The speaker praises the students in the room for their impressive achievements.  Parents beam and students’ faces flush with embarrassment.  My mother reaches over and places her hand over mine.  I look into her face and see that it is glowing with pride.  I feel a little exultant myself, to have earned a place among this group.  My talents do not extend to the sciences, like most of my fellow honorees, but I have distinguished myself in other areas, like writing and foreign languages.  I relish the pleasant feeling of having my accomplishments recognized and praised.

My wandering thoughts are interrupted as the speaker changes his theme.  He has finished congratulating the students in the room and is now explaining the honor we have earned.  I have been surveying the room and have missed his mention of the award itself.  It must be something very exciting, judging by the fascinated faces around me.  I am intrigued, but not enlightened by the phrases the speaker uses: “the greatest adventure” and “something the rest of us must wait years to experience.”  It is only when he begins to describe the process by which the honor will be bestowed that I realize, with horror, what is happening.

“It will be quite painless, I assure you,” the speaker intones.  “First, a sedative will be administered, and then, once you are all asleep, our nurses will deliver another injection, and you will be transported into the great unknown.  We have chosen the best and brightest young minds for this great honor.  We trust that your ingenuity and intelligence will guide you in your journey, and if possible, help you find a way to share what you learn on the other side.”

I try to take in what the speaker has just said.  I want to stand and run from the room, but first I look around for solidarity in the faces around me.  To my dismay, everyone looks as proud and excited as they did before the speaker announced we were all about to be killed.  My boyfriend looks especially enthusiastic and grins at me giddily. 

The meeting is apparently over.  Our parents hug us and pat us on back before they make their way out of the room through the door that we came in only a few minutes before.  I throw a panicked look at my own parents, and they smile at me and point in the direction of a door on the other side of the room that is being held open by one of the speaker’s companions.  Assuming I have misunderstood the situation, I say good-bye numbly and allow my boyfriend to lead me by the hand through the new door. 

We enter a room filled with hospital-style cots.  Students are milling around, looking for beds near their friends.  My boyfriend and I choose adjacent cots and sit down. 

“This is insane,” I whisper to him, “we have to get out of here.”

He looks at me incredulously.  “Are you kidding? This is the highest academic honor there is.  No one turns it down.  Your parents would be mortified.”

A nurse approaches him from behind.  He looks up and holds up his arm. 

“See, I’ll go first.  No big deal—trust me, you’re doing the right thing,” he says as he receives his injection.  Reluctantly, I hold my arm up as well.

I rub the sore spot on my arm and lay down on my cot.  Immediately I feel drowsy and see little dark spots dancing in front of my vision.  The panic inside of me starts to subside, and then surges to the surface again.

I sit up in the cot and shout, “Wait! I don’t want to die!” 

The little dark spots in front of my eyes begin to blend together and soon everything is black.

Kim's Dream

I closed my eyes that night, unaware where my dreams would take me. The places my dreams usually take me were always distant reminders of familiarity. I didn't know why, but I felt that I had always been there.
When I opened my eyes I was in an open field, barren of any life. The colors were all somewhat sepia-like. There was one tree in the far distance. It was black and had no leaves and stood motionless. It just stood there as if it was waiting for something or someone to remove it from it's misery. I stood there looking around for anything. The ground was hard and dry. There was a soft breeze in the air. I stood for a moment...I felt a strange heavy feeling in my stomach. I turned around and saw her. She had a black long flowing tattered dress on. She had black torn wings that I could see right through. Her hair was long and black and her face was icy pale. Her lips were a dark blue as if she had been standing outside in an ice storm all night. I wouldn't have been so afraid if I hadn't looked at her eyes. They seemed to look right through me. They were the blackest eyes I have ever seen. She seemed to stare deep into my soul, or right through me. I wasn't sure which. All I knew was that I was scared. She opened her mouth but didn't move her lips. A sound came out that sent shivers up my spine and I felt sick to my stomach. It sounded as if 10 voices were speaking at once, all saying the same thing. "Get out".
I shook my head at her. "I don't know how to!" I whispered.
"Get out and don't come back" the voices said simultaneously.I kept shaking my head. My whole body was trembling. "How do I get out of here!" I shouted."Ruuunnnnn" they said. Then she started laughing. I looked at her for what seemed like an eternity before I started running. Where was I going to go? This place seemed to never end.I started heading what I think was East. I ran until my feet were burning. I stopped and bent down to try and catch my breath. I sat for a few minutes and then I started to feel the heavy feeling again. I looked up and there she was again.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I have no name." She said, the many voices echoing around me.
"I don't know why I am here and I don't know where to go."She suddenly turned from me and flew away. Her tattered wings made a horrible screeching sound. I didn't understand any of this. I looked around again. The one lonely tree I had seen was now gone. There was nothing. I was lost in a place that I knew nothing about. With a freakish angel chasing me who's motives were unknown.

ern's dream

I am slightly embarrassed by this writing entry because of: 1-my poor creative writing skills, 2-my lack of practice that has made my poor writing skills even more so, 3- the subject matter being more difficult that I imagined, thereby leaving this dream to be the best option because it was the only one I could remember with enough detail to actually write about it. Also, I may have just written several run-on sentences and I'm not even going to go back and proofread this caveat so I'll quit my whining and get on with the writing. Enjoy! (Or, at least, don't be too cruel).


I am stepping off an airplane and right into downtown Naples, Italy (although Tamilisa, the returned missionary I'm traveling with, is pronouncing it Napolia) where we apparently have a one-night layover. It is nearly dusk so the colors are somewhat dusty and fading into neutrals, but there are a few food vendors with bright blue or red awnings that stand out brightly against the graying light. The air is warm and we breathe deeply, enjoying even the dust that seems to lightly cover everything. I don't remember taking off my shoes, but am suddenly aware of being barefoot and closing my eyes to appreciate the delicious coolness of cobblestone against my feet. As we begin walking toward the city it appears we are traveling with some sort of church group because we begin looking for a place to have Family Home Evening. I lead everyone to a small step-down lounge, thinly carpeted but cozy because of the dark wood paneling covering the walls. Someone finds a piano in the corner and begins an attempt to lead the group in song, but I find myself trying to get away because more than anything I want a piece of authentic Italian pepperoni pizza. And it has to be pepperoni. Tamilisa tells me she knows just the place and leads me outside and down a small, dingy alleyway, poorly paved, our footsteps echoing in the eerily empty road. Looking behind me I see a large Italian woman, about 6 feet tall in heels, curvy and leggy, her hips accentuated by a wide red belt, her short puffy-sleeves and perfectly set hair giving her the look of a 50's era starlet. She is approaching aggressively & talking to us in Italian and I answer back, surprised that we can understand one another, although I have no idea if I'm speaking English or Italian. I am suddenly aware of Michael behind me and realize that she is probably trying to get past us so she can offer her local “services” to him. I grab him territorially, holding our torsos close and turning to the side so I can keep an eye on this advancing voluptuous vixen. As she continues brashly, I push Michael behind me and respond in kind by advancing on her. The next moments are slightly fuzzy, but I am aware that a wrestling match of some kind has taken place and that I have easily won. She seems surprised, but I grin knowingly, darting her a “try again if you dare” look and she retreats sheepishly while I dust off my hands and turn back to my husband. Tamilisa has witnessed this whole thing and is utterly mortified when I begin kissing Michael, probably, I realize, because she is still there as a missionary and I am supposed to be her companion. But I am really not bothered as she steals away and I am wrapped in kisses with my sweetheart.

one week left!

Just wanted to send out a quick reminder that your "dreams" are due in next week. We want to get everyone posted as close to the 25th as possible so we can spend the last week of the month reading and responding on each other's pieces. I must admit I sat down to write today and ended up with only a not-very-long paragraph. This has been a good reminder to me that I need a lot of writing practice. I've been working on fleshing it out, trying to recall specifics like color, clothes, face shapes, etc. The problem with writing about a dream is that the more you try to focus on specifics the more slippery it becomes and seems to retreat further away into your subconscious. Don't know if anyone else is having that problem, but if you are then I can sympathize. Still looking forward to reading what you have to say next week. Happy writing!

Writing Prompt #1

So our first official month of writing has begun! Writing prompt #1 is to write about a dream you've had recently, with as much specific detail as possible. If you can't remember a recent dream, use something significant, like a recurring dream or one you had as a child that you still remember. I know I've heard about dreams that some of you have had in the past, so I'm looking forward to reading these!

I may try to post some more during the month, like some amazing motivational speeches (written by other people) or just some ideas to get the creative juices going, but don't be offended if I don't. Michael's family will be visiting for a few weeks, so our schedule may be too packed to allow it. If not, I look forward to hearing from everyone by the end of the month.

Oh, yeah, the deadline for this month's writing is May 25. That way we can spend the last week reading submissions and making comments.

Thanks everyone!!!

(As always, if you know anyone who would like to join, send me their email and I'll add them as an author of the blog. Thanks!)

Countdown begins...

OK, so here is a VERY minimal website to begin our writing group. So far there are 6 official participants (at least that I've received reply emails from who want to be involved) plus I think there are a few more on their way. We'll flesh out the rest of the ideas by email before we get started, but hopefully everyone who wants to be part of the group can be added as an "author" of the blog, and that way we can all post submissions for others to read.
Happy writing!