It has been a long time since I’ve written about my dreams. I still have vivid dreams and often. But even with best intentions, I get lazy and forget to write them down, still clinging to the vague feelings hanging like cobwebs in my brain.
Yes, I’ve had a bathroom dream or two. I think I’ve [...]
Read the rest of Sleepy time
We’re refugees from some sort of attack. Hundreds of people mill around confused, looking for shelter. I pick up a frightened child, a snotty-nosed, blond little toddler. Even though he’s snotty and dirty, I feel some affection for him, want to help. He’s well behaved, clings to me.
We stand in great groups, trying to draw a [...]
Read the rest of Deadly groceries
A few nights ago, I had another tornado dream. Yes, another one. All I can remember is a fragment.
I’m in a room of a house I don’t recognize. Perhaps I live here. Some of my immediate family is here.
I look outside at an eerily gray sky. The window is wide, takes up most of the [...]
Read the rest of For once, I’m afraid
The road stretched ahead of us, endless. In a couple hours, we’ll be home again.
My mind is numb. My face and eyes ache in the way that say I’ve been crying, and am holding back crying now. I know this time will never end, but it will end soon.
Time has a peculiar way of contracting, [...]
Read the rest of Time without meaning
I am in a bazaar, full of junk, before opening. I navigate between piles and boxes, smelling the smell of musty things left too long in the basement. Most of this stuff is worthless to anyone.
People are pinning their hopes on this stuff. To the sellers, every crumbling book, pile of plastic or bag of scrap cloth has [...]
Read the rest of Junk and jumble
I don’t remember much of my dream, but I do remember it was a tornado dream with a twist.
I am living in the home I grew up in most of my life, where my tornado dreams first started. This is a place that I often return to in my dreams, but when I am there, [...]
Read the rest of Volcanic tornado
I had a tornado dream while I was away. I shared it with my dad, and he wondered yet again where they come from.
I don’t know.
I’ve read that tornado dreams can mean things. I’ve often thought that because I’d been around tornados growing up, that’s why I dream about them. I never get to see [...]
Read the rest of Rushing toward me
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