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Showing stories tagged with #dream Clear filter
We bake as we dance across the world, leaving great plumes of dust in our wake. Our tyres find no ruts, no holes, no stones to slow us down, and the smell of hot oil is overpowering in the stale air.
The wanted went to my house I screamed and screamed so much I fell asleep.
One day we got to meet the wanted I was so happy I Started to cry.
In my world there's birds singing, bears dancing, pigs flying, fish walking, caterpillars talking, worms jumping, birds swimming, dogs bouncing, people crawling, bugs growing, cats grinning, flies...
It's time to lucid dream again. My only way of escaping the real world. Feeling things that cant be felt here. It's the only thing that gets me through the day, knowing I can lucid dream.
There they were. Two hands intertwine into one. Seemingly blank stares accompany empty movement; subtlety that could only ever be read by one another.
Just as before we went out early in the morning, father and son, to the nearby field where our mighty oak rested upon the hill. The swing was still there. I sat down, you started pushing.
It was then and there, the time stopped, people around me frozen. Me still moving, just as normal. Then suddenly, it all happened, the thing that changed my life. Now I'm incomplete, literally.
She clutched the crumbling paper in her hand. The writing long faded, the words indelible. Too painful to be called nostalgia, yet not enough to be called pain itself.
I feel that my room had gotten a little more colder then usual. Though in my thick duvet the cold passes through. I turn my head to glance out the window to see if it is dark out. and yes it is.
Apparently your dreams relate to or are created by your everyday life an can means things or tell you things you didn't know about yourself. So explain this.... Last night I dreamed I was a potato.
Ever had that feeling of utter loneliness. Yeah. Guess so . I have every night. You c the holes in my heart will always be there because of this boy, my exbest friend, my brother, my mom and my dad.
When I was 4 my parents divorced. I went through counseling, therapy, anger management classes, anything and everything I've been through. The first time I went back was last year for my brother.
Sometimes, I stare at the clouds. I don't know why. I just do. I wonder if angels and flying pigs play in those clouds. I wonder what they taste like, feel like. I wonder I they'll make a comfy bed.
I appear in a beautiful field, where fairies fly past peacefully. I tiptoe through the glossy green grass, daisies of all sizes tickling my bare feet. Blades of grass with dew drops shining.
I trod on the dog. That in itself wasn't a problem - she may beg to differ . The consequences seem to have been far more than a little bit of guilt.
If you take any activity, any art, any discipline, any skill- take it and push it as far as it will go, push it beyond where it has ever been before, push it to the wildest edges of edges, then you...
Works like magic.
If I could plug a memory stick into my pillow, I'd record all my dreams so I could watch them back!.
I was a girl, rushing through hallways, opening doors. Doors to rooms I'd never seen before, or at least I felt like I didn't recognise them. Rushing and spinning and feeling lost, anxious, alone.
I wish there were technological advances at that time, free messages better callin plans like now bbm imessenger, facebook.
Tonight she sat alone. For a moment it felt like the world was ending and before she knew it she cried. "Crying makes you weak", they said. But with each tear that fell she felt a little bit stronger.
I am one in a million as we flow down together swaying and rising. The sun warms me and gradually I begin to rise and become lighter.
I have a friend named Monty Roberts who owns a horse ranch in San Ysidro. He has let me use his house to put on fund-raising events to raise money for youth at risk programs.