Latest Entries »

A Dream

In this dream I was a man, about 23 years old, I think.
I think it took place in the 1800s, but I’m not entirely sure. It was anywhere between the 1700s and the 1910s.
Anyway, the entire British Government was after me for something I did not do.
After quite a while eluding them, they caught me after an almost-epic chase (but only because someone tripped me most unfairly).
There was no trial.
They made me do hard labor for a while. (I think it was at the docks, but it looked more like a canal. It was something like pulling canal boats, but not quite. I have the picture in my mind, but I cannot quite describe it.) During this, a fellow unfortunate was complaining about his life and how hard it was and how much he had suffered, et cetera, et cetera. So, during a short break, I pulled off my gloves and rolled down my sleeves and showed him my arms. They were partially black from an incident involving tar that I had to go through to escape the British Regulars. (Oddly enough, I had all of the scars that I have in real life, but they were almost a purplish color.)
A while later, the Brits got in a war with France (It seemed WWI-like, based on the uniforms and equipment), and they forced me into their army.
Needless to say, everyone hated me, except for a friend that I have in real life (WIlliams) who was also there for an unknown reason.
The commander despised me and took every opportunity to make my existense miserable.
Towards the end of the dream, he was separating our group into two.
In order to do so, he had us take off our boots and set them on the floor in front of us with the tops open.
Those who could jump into them on the first try were sent to one place on the front, and everyone else to a different place on the front.
When I turned to say something to Williams, the commander replaced my boots with a pair much too small for me, but not so small that the difference was noticable at first glance.
Williams suceeded, but I obviously failed. Just like the commander had planned.
Then I discovered that my father was fighting for the French, and he was killed right in front of me.



The aroma of ink surrounds
Voices of the letters calling
Colors pulling.

The fragrance of old books
Chatting on shelves

The pen in my hand
Pulling me
Into an adventure
Into the unknown.


This is a second-person POV story adaptation of a dream I once had. Enjoy!

Picture this: All around you is dry grass and weeds. Fields as far as your eyes can see. There are no trees. No bushes. No roads. Just you. And your family. And your new, huge, house. You just moved all of your possessions into the garage, and now you’re taking a break outside, watching the clouds.

Suddenly, the clouds don’t look so white anymore. No. They’re turning dark, menacing, grey. Then, eventually, black. As far as you can see. No sun. No blue. Just black and green.

“Look!” someone in your family shouts, pointing to the horizon on the far right.

You look.

Someone else gasps.

An angry column of swirling, greyish-blackness is storming your way. Straight to your family. And your new house.

Everyone freezes for a moment.

Then they start yelling. Running into the house, the hallway.

Which is glass.

The hallway is glass.

There is nothing you can do.

Nowhere else to run.

The basement is too far away, cut off from you, and the other places are no sturdier than the hallway.

You pray for protection, and wait.

The tornado comes.

And stops. Right in front of your refuge.

You stare, heart pounding.

“No. Way. No flippin’ way.” you say, watching the tornado dissipate right in front of your eyes.


Lightning danced.

Thunder growled.

Moon hid.

Rain fell quietly onto the street.

Falling, falling, swirling, splat.

Sphere, teardrop, circle, splat.

Twisting, turning, twirling, splat.

Puddles ,splashes, gutters, spat.

Footsteps, muffled, secrets, hid.

Running, shouting, yelling, pursuit.

Slamming, tipping, crashing, clash.

Racing, pursuing, escaping, caught.