Dreaming Again

Find yourself in your creativity.

For many years, I kept my creativity locked inside so that I could work, work, and do the many things that paid the bills and kept money in my wallet. As I grew older, I felt that creative part of me grow smaller and smaller, until it was barely a flicker of thought. I knew it was there; but there’s no glory in art, so why create? That’s the argument I gave myself. I believed it. I lived it. I stopped dreaming.

Then something happened. My life changed. The world I had built through all that working came crashing down. As chaos enveloped my existence, I looked inside to escape my fears; I looked to my dreams, but they were empty.

So, I started writing again. At first, it was an exploration. I wanted to discover a piece of my past and see if it was relevant. As I wrote, my dreams returned. They were vivid, bright, colorful, odd stories that filled my mind with beauty.

I found myself and remembered: I love writing.

So, I kept writing. I wrote one book, then a second. Now I’m finishing my third book. Life has changed again, but it’s not a bad thing. I’ve found harmony between my writing and world that pays the bills. I’ve discovered a new path, a new journey. It’s not easy, but I like it.

I’m thankful that I released my creativity and found my dreams. If you’ve buried yours, let it out and start dreaming again. You’ll be amazed how much your world will brighten.

Somnium Perfecta Imago

I see the mirror glass, but it’s not my room on the other side; there’s rampant, swirling fog. And her. This must be the dream. I’ve been here before. The same eyes, the flaming hair, her voice calls the same angelic words as before. But I don’t know them. Are they a warning, or a blessing?

“Cursum Perficio,” she says.

My heart pounds its response and I catch myself not breathing. It’s impossible not to oscitate—I’m transfixed.

“Cursom Perficio.”

I mouth the words with her. Who is she? What is the meaning of this synchronicity? As I ponder, she beckons to me. The fog changes from gray to crimson in a brilliant miasma of warning while her words envelop the space.

“Cursum Perficio.”

I lean close and draw a breath. Then I reach to touch the glass, to break the lacuna between my wanting and her.

“Please,” I whisper. “This is perfect.”

“Cursum—”

I interrupt. “Please.”

Brilliant light blinds my vision, forcing me back. I collapse on the bed and close my eyes. I sleep. When I awake, the dream is gone. I am alone again.

If you enjoyed my 200 word blog entry, please like it here.

Moments you can't Buy

I’m on my bed, staring at the laptop screen with my 2 yr old next to me. “What should I write about?” I ask.

She scrunches her nose and answers, “um, bunny rabbits.”

“What about bunny rabbits?” I ask.

“And teddy bears,” she tells me.

“Do you like bunny rabbits or bears the best?”

She smiles. “Teddy bears.” Then she covers half her face with a blanket and grins from underneath.

“I can see the moon,” she says.

“Really?” I move my head close to hers.

Out the far window, across the hall, the full moon greets my gaze.

“You were right!” I tell her. “The moon is there. Let’s take a picture.” I grab the camera and snap a photo.

Here’s to moments you can’t buy:

Find your inspiration, capture it, then share it with the world.

The Door Swung Open

Here's my attempt at a short story. If you're wondering what I'm doing, Rachael Harrie has this wonderful author networking challenge. I'm required to write a short story, limited to 200 words, and use the door swung open as the opening line. If I'm brave, I'm to use the door swung shut as the closing words. So, at 200 words, here's my story: THE ZOMBIE LIFE

The door swung open and a pair of hands grabbed my ankles.

“Get out here,” commanded a sharp voice that scarred my ears as it passed.

Scream. Where is your scream? I clawed at the walls with my fingers. “No.” My weakened rasp barely broke my breath. “Let go.” As I slid, against my wanting, my body left the shadow of my home. My feet burned from a blaze that I couldn’t see. I wouldn’t look; I needed my eyes for the darkness. When my ankles met the pain, I howled. There’s my scream!

“He’s fighting me,” yelled the voice.

More hands gripped me. I pulled one leg back and kicked the enemy, but the motion twisted me and my face struck the floor. More pain. My legs met the fire. I clawed again, this time at the floor.

This was no way to die. First, the fevers, then the shakes. When the poison of daylight ended all hope for a normal life, I had promised myself I would live. In darkness, yes, but I had lived so long.

Removed from my home and completely exposed, I dared a final defying glance at the sun before the door swung shut.

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Well, there it is. If you like it, please LIKE it here. Oh, and I'm not really into horror or zombies, but it was the first thing that came into my mind when I read the contest rules. Thanks for visiting!