I love to write. I don’t have the greatest English like grammar, punctuation, etc, but I’m creative and I love to write. I feel that some of my writings are interesting. It feels good to write. My mine gets so jammed with information and if I don’t write them down I’ll forget. Usually these are great stories. All my stories are real life situations.
I use to wake from a wild dream and write it down so that I could go back to sleep. Sometimes my dreams happened in real life which is scary. Sometimes good and sometimes bad.
When I was a little girl I would sleep walk. My mom would catch me at the front door. Where would I have gone?
I had the same dreams all the time. At times I would start where my dream left off the night before. Most of my dreams were about being chased and flying. I could run so fast that when I got up to speed I could just lift off like an airplane and fly from rooftop to rooftop. I loved flying. My wish is to fly with the eagle and see amazing things in life.
Another dream that I had constantly was hearing something strange in the living room, and walking to the front window. I would open the curtains and there standing in front of me – staring back was this dark hairy creature. It would have a large gun where the barrel was like that of the Pilgrims. You know that big horn musket? When I saw this creature I would run out the front door and start running until I lifted off. I would fly to the end of the street where a tunnel led to the other side. I always thought if I could get to the other side I would be okay. Then I would wake up. What did these dreams mean?