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Writing > Users > faerie_witch > 2010

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by faerie_witch on November 4, 2010
"this one was written in fifteen minutes and i basically wrote down whatever came to mind"

Dreamland

I'm always so very tired, thus I sleep a lot more than I should. Everyday I come home from work, slip out of my heels and stylish work clothes, slip into my comfy pajama pants and a t shirt, and go to bed. Since I get home at about one o clock in the morning, this isnt all that unusual. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep in my soft, down bed, and even less time to start dreaming. I love my dreams. hey are so vivid and colorful, and unlike many people I recall them perfectly.
I had just gotten to sleep when I start to see different colors in the edge of my vision. A mixture of blues, greens, and reds start blurry and then focus into my dream realm. My dreams are nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary. I "awaken" in a bed, in a huge house, surrounded by lots of land. A maid in the original french style comes in with breakfast and starts to straighten up the room.
In real life I'm not exactly what you would call rich. I live in a two room apartment alone, and I the living area is sparsely furnished. the few items of furniture that I do have are all of different styles that clash with each other in a way i find enjoyable.
In this life however, I am very rich, with luscious, upholstered furniture that probably cost more than two months rent, plus all the hired help running about the house. Well I can't exactly say it's a house since it's more of a mansion. Getting out of bed, I am clothed in a fashionable silk nightgown that hugs my curves in precisely the right places. I wonder through the many closets, rooms, and living areas and just enjoy my house. If only this life could be real.
Well, who's to say that it isn't real? what makes this dream life any different than my other one. As far as I know this is the reality while the other is the dream. I think I would prefer it to be that way. I walk outside to the garden behind the house and just bask in the scent of daisies, roses of pink, red, and yellow, clematis, lavender, and other flowers. Then, in the middle of it all, the dream stops. My life comes back to my apartment and I feel sad once more.

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