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Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

The following is a piece of writing submitted by Brian Sloan on August 22, 2011
"Another bad attempt at timed writing. Took a good bit of time to start, came out really awkward from the get-go. Again, not something I'm terribly proud of, but certainly less rushed than the previous one."

Dreams, Part I

The best dreams are often simple, in my experience--once they get complex, they tend to convolute. Throughout my life I've had a lot to dream about, but probably the most memorable dreams have been about the women in my life.

My ex and I dated for nearly 3 years. We hung out all the time, shared interests, and had great senses of humor. We were together almost all the time--even in class; both of us were academically driven. We were both band nerds, and we both loved writing and history. To our little high school hearts, this was a match made in heaven, and it would last eternity.

When a man says he dreams about a woman, it's often sexual in nature. My dream of choice, however, was nothing of the type. I remember riding on the bus next to her on the way to the San Francisco airport at about 4 in the morning for a trip to Chicago to play in the Chicago Symphony Hall. Everyone was falling asleep left and right, including her. I decided that since the bus driver was the only one conscious, I'd drift off as well. The soft thumps of the bus as it ran over the uneven asphalt that categorizes California highways and the low hum of the wheels skirting the pavement lulled me into subconsciousness.

I dreamed of something a year in the past, back in Sophomore year. We had just finished cleaning up after the Petaluma Band Review, which was always more work than it was worth. We took down the judges stands and covered several other peoples' tasks as well, students who probably ran off early to take the rest of the day off. We got back to the football field just as the awards were being presented. Oops. She looked at me, uncertain, and I decided "To hell with it, here's as good as anywhere," so I just lay down on the grass in the comforting sunshine and listened as Cliff Eveland, our band instructor, rattled off the winners of each category. My girlfriend lay down next to me and nestled in under my arm, and we both just relaxed on the warm grass, sunlight beating down on our peaceful faces, without a care in the world. I was at peace with everything--my schoolwork, my parents, heck, even my little brother. Life was perfect for those few minutes.

I remember waking up with a slight jump as my dream took itself to the conclusion of our quasi-nap on the serene, grassy hill, and snapped back to reality, sitting on a dirty school bus on the way to a filthy airport to get on a defiled plane. My girlfriend was sitting up next to me, looking at me with the strangest stare. "What?"
"You were asleep..."
"Yeah, boys sleep to. It's not like the Y chromosome removes the need to rest."
"You had the biggest goofy grin on your face. It was starting to freak me out."
I laughed and hugged her.
"What were you dreaming about?"

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