“If aliens visit us, the outcome would be much as when Columbus landed in America, which didn’t turn out well for the Native Americans.”
— Stephen Hawking
Though I have had vivid dreams for my entire life, writing them down was not commonplace for me until recently. Occasionally, however, a dream would be so epic in scope that I would take the time to jot it down. Such is the case of the first dream I ever wrote out, at age 21. This was also the first dream wherein I experienced actual pain. I guess the saying “pinch me, I’m dreaming!” must not be applicable to all dreams…
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At sunset, the little soul that had come with the dawning went away, leaving heartbreak behind it. -L. M. Montgomery
The hurricane brought with it all of the expected hardships: wind, rain, flooding, downed trees, power outages. For me, it also brought a unique opportunity to look for old family photographs as I attempted to stave off the mounting cabin fever. And so it was, with the kiddo safely ensconced with his grandmother, I set out to my maternal great-grandmother’s house to raid the attic. Though I only had to run across the street, the relentless rain had me soaked in 10 seconds flat. I didn’t care; I was on a mission.
I was dead set on finding a specific box of photographs that I had not seen for some 20 years. Spurred into action by a friend’s Instagram post on the subject, I knew I had to find one photograph in particular: a 1933 photograph, hand painted in delicate blue and pale pink hues. I had no hope of knowing whether the pictures would still be there; the house had undergone a few renovations and cleanings since I last laid eyes on the dusty cardboard box which I now sought.
(warning: post contains morbid imagery after the jump)
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Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. — Edgar Allan Poe
I have never been one for blogging. Not one for much public exposition on the whole, honestly. My social media activities consist of occasionally posting pictures of pets and places, my son, tangible things, but rarely sharing anything of my self. Part of that is more due to my past than anything. A stray dog like me has many secrets.
So of course, when someone dear to me told me that I should be writing down and blogging about my all-too vivid dreams, I balked. For months. Hemming and hawing, hedging every time he brought it up. But what’s this? My first blog post? Clearly, he wore me down.
So, here it goes, guys. I can’t promise I’m any fun, but my dreams? They’re pretty damn impressive. I welcome any and all interpretations!Read More »