Tag Archives: Dream

Dream in Color


sorrow_by_nosrael-d5tukn9

 

Scientifically, dreams are supposed to be in black and white, the color completely drained from the story being told in your own mind. My dreams are never in black and white. I have more colors in my imagination than I have ever been able to find or recreate. I feel my dreams in my heart and on my skin and they linger with me for days at a time, and some even stay with me for years. I have grown accustomed to these dreams and have fallen for their adventures. The dream I have chosen to share with you now has been with me for 10 years.

Her eyes flutter open heavily, the weight they held was so immense that she thought sleep would take her again. She fought the urge to allow herself to sleep when she realized that she was not in her bed. In fact, she wasn’t even indoors. As the thought occurred to her to feel frightened, she couldn’t. Her heart remained steady in her chest and her breathing calm.

The chill of the night air swept over her skin and the grass beneath her head glowed with the soft light of the lanterns above her. She was surrounded by bushes of roses of any color. Not just every color, but colors that she had never seen before. The roses were such a deep purple that they nearly glowed black, or a red that shined gold, and a blue that sparkled with stars.

She sat up slowly, stretching her arms into the air over her as she inspected the garden around her. The sky was gone, hidden by a glass surface that shared the galaxy beyond her world. As her arms drifted back to her sides she let her legs dangle off of the soft grass platform that had held her sleeping form and slid the extra few inches to the ground to stand.

The large square cobblestones beneath her feet were so meticulous that they must have been hand made. Kneeling, she realized there were words inscribed within the stone, her fingers grazed the engravings and felt the smooth surface of a gloss finish over each stone within reaching distance. The words read her dreams, her wishes, her hopes, and none of her fears.

“I would never want you to fear this place.” A deep melodic voice came near her and his soft footsteps echoed along the stones. She looked up at him and slowly stood to inspect the speaker. His eyes were a kind sea blue and his short light blonde curls were a contrast against the black button up shirt that he wore. He was slender but obviously fit with regal high cheekbones. “I am not afraid.” She whispered. She checked her heartbeat in her chest and though it was now racing it was not fueled by the adrenaline of fear. She knew she was happy to see him, though she could not remember him.

He offered his arm to her and she slipped her hand through and cupped his forearm, his free hand protectively resting over her hand. The warmth of his skin chasing away the chill of the air. She looked up to him then and saw that while he was kind he was sad. A sorrow beyond anything she had ever felt threatened to destroy her just at the look in his eyes. He smiled softly, lifting the pain from his eyes and led her through the garden and the colors grew brighter at their approach. Brilliant, unimaginable beauty, bloomed before her. The smile she felt pulled from her heart, deep within her soul.

They walked in the glory of this world silent, but it was a content silence. Words were not something they needed. She knew, as if she had always known, they could spend an eternity in complete silence and always know everything of one another. His hand gently pressed more firmly against hers and it told her that he was pleased by her reaction to the garden. It had been created for her, nurtured and perfected with a never ending love, for her. The stones were created at the birth of her desires, and the colors were born of her imagination, the roses nurtured from her heart and fed by her passion.

He turned so they would face each other. After hours of spending silent time together, “It’s time for you to wake now.” His voice was a sad caress, loving and beautiful but full of terribly sorrow. She rested her head against his chest and whispered, “I want to stay…” His hand brushed through her hair, never tangling and always comforting. “Come here when you wish, love. Just think of your garden and you’ll be here, but for now, you must wake.” She looked up to meet his eyes, his hands moving to rest gently along the sides of her face. He brushed her lips lightly with his own.

A click always sounded just before the stereo would kick on, and for the life of me I never understood why that would always be what would wake me up, and not the music that followed. I slipped from my bed and proceeded throughout the day with a heavy heart. I think I knew it the moment I woke, or even within the dream, that to this day, and no matter how much I wish it, I have never been able to return.

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Filed under Kindnapped by Imagination, Self Ramblings, Short Stories

My Escape…


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I was born an artist, a dancer, a believer, a singer, but most of all I was born a writer. I draw and paint and create, but it is only within my words can I truly escape. 

I bury myself in my books, dreaming of passion that can only be written, and tales that can only be dreamed of. This is my escape.

My drive is my dream, my motivations come from my readers, and my inspiration is purely within my imagination. I sleep, wake, and breathe my stories. This, is my escape. 

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Filed under Self Ramblings

Working with a Block


I sit here, my face in my hands. Every so often I run my fingers through my bed hair. I shift as time goes on from couch, floor, kitchen table, to café, and it’s the same everywhere I go. My mind is silent. I can’t force the world in my mind to press to paper, or computer, or pen, it just stays taunting me, inside my mind. Worlds of magic and intrigue, love and betrayal, murder and mystery, all locked away in a brain too occupied with the real world to let herself be imaginative.

When we stop our imagination, push it aside in order to deal with life, that’s when we grow old, those moments are when we loose our inner child to the adult. Maybe I’m from Neverland, but I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to feel older.

I sit here in the quiet, staring at the bars locking me inside myself and I say, “Not today!” My hands grasp the cold steel and one good tug is all it needs. The bars burst into shimmering dust and float in the air around me. My smile lifts and my eyes tear.

“Welcome Back” is all I hear.

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What the hell…?


I’m at work. I keep checking the clock to see how much longer I have to be here. Not really noticing the time but understanding that the time of release and my rampant scurry to flee the building will not be happening for a while.

Behind me I hear the familiar pattern of coworkers walking the halls between our cubes. I think nothing of it. It’s just a normal day. Until suddenly there were hands on my shoulders and my name is being screamed. The instant shock that propelled me upwards also prevented me from noticing as my leg gets caught between the seat and the armrest of my chair, as it often does since I like to contort myself into my uncomfy chair so that I can imagine that it is more comfy than it actually is. Within the momentum of the chair and me trying to get up extremely quickly it promptly shoves me back down and my face was compelled to become close friends with my desk.

Hospital rooms are always freezing. You would think they would keep it warmer since so many people that come to them are actually sick. The doctor pulls the curtain around and I see my friend Kim standing there behind him, her hands to her face in a state of shock and tears down her face. She hadn’t expected to startle me so bad that I would bust my nose. The doctor flips through his chart and looks at me. He’s heard the story, had his laugh for the day, and then gave me something for the booming headache that was probably a little more than I could handle while still trying to remember how to pronounce my name.

The Doctor smirks and asks me how I’m feeling.

“Me? I feel pretty.” My face obviously black and blue by now.
“You feel pretty?”
I nod “I feel pretty.”
He shifts his face to the side slightly his smirk growing into a smile. “And witty?”
My eye twitches “But not Gay.”

I wake up in my dark room blinking through the sleep that has blurred my vision. My digital clock across the room blinks green number at me that read 3:33am. I breathe in deeply my hand searching my face. Nothing is there, no busted nose, no tape. It was a dream.

“…What the hell…”

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Filed under Kindnapped by Imagination, Self Ramblings