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Writing > Users > Hope Elisabeth > 2011

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction


The following is a piece of writing submitted by Hope Elisabeth on September 8, 2011
"felt like it. comment if you wish. "

Dreams, Part II

Dreams. They're convoluted. The boundaries between reality and our imaginations twist and bend, until we don't know right from left, and up from down. Which is why, when we dream of horrible atrocities or wonderful fantasies, and if they're powerful, and raw, we'll still feel the emotions on the day after.

The funny thing is, they have a way of taking the smallest thoughts, the smallest actions that may have happened in your day, or the week before and turn it all into one flashy dream full of nonsense that makes perfect sense at the time.

They have tendencies to play on your fears, and your worries. Especially if you have anxiety problems, like me.

When I was in the sixth grade, I had this horrible, horrible fear of death. I'm not going to get all theological here, but I was terrified of leaving all the people I love to a place that I was uncertain of. Also, would they miss me too? It just occupied my mind during the darkest of times.

So, naturally it would appear in my dreams. Now, my dreams have a habit of being vague, and making no sense, so just bear with me:


I was at a party for myself, but it wasn't a real upbeat one, the tone was relaxed, and the aura of sadness hung in the air. The party was split into several small houses that were right next to each other. I was walking around, and people that I knew with blurred faces were telling me how much they would miss me when I was gone.


I realized, I was dying. It all felt so surreal, and it was one of those dreams that you thought was reality. I remember this raw, tremendous sadness that seemed to swallow my heart whole, when I realized I was leaving my loved ones behind. I was missing out on life, I wasn't able to start a career, I wasn't able to marry and have kids one day, I wasn't able to do a lot of little things that I had marked down on my bucket list.


There were people that I loved were crying, and some surprising people that were crying too. I had just realized how much my life, how much one life effects so many people in a slight chain reaction movement. All of a sudden, my dream transformed into third person and I saw my face, myself talking to people. It was a face shaped with youth, with childish bangs that framed the twinkling brown eyes, but there was an infinite sadness to how I carried myself - a slight slumping of the shoulders, an aged-look in the eyes, and a mouth that was slightly down-pulled.


I woke up the next day, the feeling of sadness still there, but I realized I was still living, I had so much to live for that I couldn't fear death. My nightmare had helped me conquer my fear in a dramatic style.


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