Dream # 3

I had a literature final, but I was lost inside of a building, wandering down corridors that led me to the wrong wing or ran me into dead ends. No matter where I went, I could not find the English wing. Some of the building was labeled what section I was walking into: Gymnasium, Foreign Language, Social Sciences, but no matter where I went, it was a labyrinth I could not navigate.

I knew I was getting later and later by the minute, and I could feel my heart speeding up as I ran out of time. I ran past a classroom, and there was a group of teachers playing a game. I paused, recognizing a voice in the mix of voices.

It was one of my favorite teachers from high school.

When their game ended, I tried to talk to him, but he refused to talk to me. He was suddenly furious with me, his face reddening with rage. A bright white light appeared. The light blinded me.

Somehow, I ended up outside of the building, sobbing into my hands. A stranger and his partner appeared on a flying, steampunk motorcycle. They offered to take me to the classroom where the literature exam was being held. The man who drove the motorcycle fiddled with a wedding band and engagement ring, fusing them together in his hands, as we flew.

We continued to fly until we arrived outside of the building. I desperately wanted to get inside, but giant, flying giant bugs battled outside where the motorcycle flew.

Once inside, I was lost within a maze again.

As I sobbed into my hands, I gave up. I surrendered that I would never find the classroom. A best friend from my childhood arrived and showed me where to go. Inside the classroom, I sat down to do whatever I could to complete the exam before time was up. My mom stood behind me, whispering awful things in my ear as I take the exam. Frustrated with nearly failing the exam and my mother saying terrible things about me, I stood up and told her to leave.

I told her that I was going to find my own way and that I would pay for everything on my own from now on just so I don’t have to see her.

She told me that’s fine, but I would never see my grandma again.

Knowing I would never see my grandma, one of the few people who love me unconditionally, I burst into tears. Somehow, through my tears, I finished the exam, my heart broken yet proud that I had decided to not speak to my mother ever again.

Dream # 2

I have unanimously decided (with the help of some social media friends) that I will be doing a semi-regular feature on my blog describing my dreams. Since my novel so frequently mentions dreams, I think it’d be fun to share some of the more interesting dreams I’ve had with y’all. Don’t worry: I won’t be sharing the boring ones like where all my teeth fall out and I’m sucking on my gums.

Last Saturday, I dreamt I was homeless and wandering around abandoned construction sites. I traveled with a girl who had violet eyes and a dark violence to her appearance. We broke into a library one night and shattered a projector that shot images of stars at the ceiling.

I scribbled down quotes about life in a small notebook I carried with me: quotes about being alive and being in the moment. One quote I wrote down was, “Behind all the madness is you, your life, and what you want.” (Upon waking, I scribbled that down first; it seemed crucial that I remember this.)

I walked the streets of Eden, asphalt and concrete under my feet, feeling like there was no time left so all we had to do was make the most of it.

Golden-white fairy lights twinkled down from people’s balconies as the girl with the violet eyes and I walked. It was like being barraged with glimmering stars but not so bright. It was a warm glow, and it made us feel safe.

Suddenly, as dreams aren’t known for their smooth transitions, I stood in an intersection with cars coming at me from all directions, but they bounced off one another like bumper cars at an amusement park.

I wandered away from the cars and the loud noises of traffic into a construction site. It was after-hours and poorly-lit, but I begged for something to give me a clue that I was on the right track. As I walked, I remembered Christmases before I was homeless. I remembered my family and Christmas trees and the smell of anise. Home.

I walked along scaffolding and the horizontal beams and joists, but as I walked, the beams broke and I crashed through the floor to another level, then to another, then to another, continuously falling.

When I finally stopped crashing, I was in an assisted-living facility with my grandma. She was as beautiful as she was before the Alzheimer’s got the best of her, but even as beautiful as she looked, she still forgot who I was. We went into a dress-up bin and dressed up as other people. The girl with violet eyes was there, and all three of us pretended to be different people as we dressed up in their clothes: mink stoles, party dresses, three-piece suits with pocket watches on chains.

Opinions Needed!

Because my first novel is about dreams and dream interpretation–and because I’m fascinated by dreams–I was thinking it might be fun to feature some of my dreams and possibly include their interpretations on my website.

I like the idea of having regular content, and while I do enjoy sharing my poetry and short fiction, I think it could be an interesting addition to my blog.

However, I know dream sequences can be boring to some people…that being said, could you please comment below (or like this post) if you would be interested in reading about my dreams?

I don’t think the descriptions would be as long-winded as the previous account, but I can’t swear that.

I already had one interesting dream last week about a girl with violet eyes and living on the streets of Eden.

Let me know what you think!