It can be a relief to wake up and realize, it was only a dream. But what if we are always dreaming? Dreams are the veil between the conscious and subconscious. Perhaps daydreams are the bridge between possibility and practicality.
With dreaming, anything goes. Writers plunged into the prompt, one offered by Rough Writer and author, Ruchira Khanna.
June 22, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves a dream.
Beach Daydreaming by Susan Zutautas
I stare into space
Where no one knows, where I’ve gone
I like to hide in my mind
Sometimes I think of younger years
Sometimes I think of my fears
My favorite dream is on a beach
Lying in the sun and sand
Feeling the heat beating down on me
I feel the sand between my toes
A gentle warm breeze goes by slow
Listening for the waves to crash
The warmth of the water hits my back
The sweet smell of salty sea water
Fills my nostrils and I smile
There’s nothing like an ocean dream
Deep Sleep by D. Avery
The stone dreamt of cold grinding ice and was not afraid; dreamt of twisting transforming heat and was not afraid; dreamt of the crushing weight of oceans, and was not afraid; dreamt of the acidic embrace of mosses and was not afraid. The stone dreamt it was asleep and dreaming that it was asleep and dreaming of timelessness and fearlessness. The stone dreamt that it was the Earth, that it was the universe, that it was a tossed pebble.
She awakened suddenly, slowly, acclimating herself to her limbs, her body, to the return from dreaming of being a stone.
A Writer’s Dream by Reena Saxena
The woman in black finally decided to reveal her identity. I watched with bated breath, as she lifted her veil, and then, I almost stopped breathing for a while. She was not strikingly beautiful, as I had expected, but was a relic of the past.
What had happened in her life, in the interim period? And why was she following me? It was scary, but these are the twists and turns of fate, that keep the story of life going.
I woke up drenched in sweat. Why don’t the characters of my novel leave me alone, when I sleep?
Lost in a Dream (from Rock Creek) by Charli Mills
Young Sally stirred the bean pot and twittered about lace she’d seen in Beatrice. Sarah saw herself as if in a dream, a memory vividly sketched in mind but dormant for years.
“Beans look ready Miss Sarah?”
Her hands, no longer stiff and aged, trembled at what she knew came next. She heard herself repeat words from 70 years ago. “Check one.”
Sally blew on the wooden spoon, a lone pinto perched in thin liquid. Bread cooled next to churned butter and wild plum jam.
Sarah succumbed to the memory of the day. There never was a last supper.
But I Can Have a Dream, Too by Joe Owens
Erin studied Eric’s speech he had spent so many hours on, checking and rechecking it as her good friend requested.
“It’s great except for one thing. You can’t use the ‘I have a dream’ line at the beginning.”
“There is a very famous speech with that line you don’t want to copy.”
“Doesn’t every speech reuse some words from another?” Eric asked.
“I suppose, but I think you should try again on your opening,” Erin said handing the papers back to Eric.
Two days later Eric began his speech like this: “Dreams are the mind cataloging memories!”
A Dream is Just a Dream by Anne Goodwin
“What does it mean, doctor?” She sat back, wide-eyed, expectant.
Flying cats, talking trains and flowers oozing blood. The ward staff called her an attention-seeking fantasist, but I gave her an hour a week of my full attention and she filled the space with her rambling dreams.
I didn’t want to disappoint her, but none of my interpretations had hit the spot. Sometimes a dream is just a dream. But only in their telling did she seem alive. “I wonder,” I faltered, “did you ever dream of writing a novel?”
She snatched a tissue. At last, we could begin.
Flash Fiction by Pensitivity
The organ blasted out ‘Here comes the bride’.
What was I doing here?
This wasn’t what I wanted or needed.
The pews were full, of people I didn’t know.
Was I in the right place?
I walked alone up the aisle, no-one to give me away.
My groom had his back to me.
His stance was unfamiliar, strange to see a Morning Suit.
Oohs and aahs echoed all around me.
I looked down to see I was stark naked.
Exposed for the fraud I was perhaps?
The music stopped.
So did I.
He turned slowly.
A man without a face.
I Saw Her Again by Drew Sheldon
I ran into her the other day. She looked great. She got divorced and quit smoking a few years ago. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so happy and healthy. We talked and laughed just like we used to all those years ago. No topic was off-limits. No joke was too tasteless. She was just as brilliant and funny as I remembered. Somehow I hadn’t realized how much I missed her. Suddenly it occurred to me in all the excitement I had forgotten to hug her. So I reached over to her…
And then I woke up.
Visitations by Sascha Darlington
I feel gentle fingertips caress my temple, wake to his brown eyes fastened on mine, concern etched in them. His breath, hot upon my cheek, once would have been enough.
“Are you getting up?” he asks, a whisper.
“I need a little more sleep,” I say. He nods, kisses my brow. I almost pull him to me, to have him close.
I’ve never told him that sometimes she appears in dreams and her laughter clutches me. I sleep hoping to dream of her.
I think I hear him say: “Please come back to me” before I slide into slumber.
El drac dels somnis by Jules Paige
(Janice vs Richard #11)
Clothed in a neat kimono type wrapper, Janice felt there was
nothing mundane about this dream. She’d been spirited off to
a tentative safe house. There was no going backwards as far
as escaping Richard was concerned. Even with attempting
La gaudiere for the man – there couldn’t be even a partial
Warm air vented from the nostrils of the tree brown dragon
that nudged her, as she patted its’ spine. Janice wasn’t
opposed to staying in this dream and felt herself smile.
The Dragon’s eye swirled into a scenic window of greenery.
It was time to wake up.
Livin’ the Dream (Jane Doe Flash Fiction) by Deborah Lee
Becca pushes out of the consignment shop, not daring to breathe lest it tip the tears poised to fall. A year ago she had bliss. Now she’s selling what left she has of Richard.
That happy life, that wonderful man, it must have been a dream. She would never have been so careless as to lose him if it was real. She would have felt its fragility, would have known not to let him leave the house that day.
But why would anyone wake from a dream like that one, if dream it was?
Same result. Gone, either way.
Dream by Lady Lee Manila
I never believe in dreams
They were just for kids, it seems
Like one of their childish games
But you came and I’m in flames
I’m still smiling with that beam
When I sleep, I dream of you
In the blue sky and you flew
Searching and calling my name
– Believe in dreams
Now I believe in daydreams
Hoping you are my mainstream
And my heart you have inflamed
Dream to be with you I claim
With preference, my eyes gleam
– Believe in dreams
When I sleep, I dream of you
In the blue sky and flew
The Spider by Jeanne Lombardo
Rain-washed light filtering through the glass doors. The snug kitchen dawning with the day. The woman pondering her dream.
She’d been sitting in this kitchen. An egg, perfect in its pure, curved symmetry nestled in a china bowl before her.
She cracked it open. The yolk dazzled. But it was not a yolk. It was a magnificent spider, its body a glinting gold topaz.
In the waking world, she would have recoiled. She would have screamed.
But in the dream she watched, smiling.
Now it seemed a visitation, a hopeful omen, a sign. What did the jeweled spider portend?
Dreaming Well by D. Avery
“There’s people there now, but I’ll clean up after them, check on the well.”
Johanna couldn’t believe her fortune in finding a special remote location for her “gang” to base their retreat ride.
“I’ll take the tractor out there and brush-hog the meadow and grade the lane so you ladies can get in and set up your tents. My, having visitors does keep us young.”
“Okay”, smiled Joanna, reaching for her helmet, “We’ll all be back next weekend, it sounds great, like a dream come true.”
“Yes”, said the older woman, her eyes gleaming, “It’s a dream come true.”
Dawn, Noon, Dusk by idyllsoftheking
When he wakes up, the red light of morning streaming through his window, his heart skips a beat. The sun? Natural sunlight! He rushes out of bed greet it.
When she logs in, she responds to emails in order of panic. No, she assures the recipients of her comforting lies. No, there is nothing to fear. It will hold. Their arcology is the best on Io.
When they crouch down, underneath the sparking and burning wreckage of their glass and plastic castle, they look at each other with undeniable hatred. His dream lives, hers died. Simple. She kills him.
Dream Crashers by Sascha Darlington
You can’t keep dead people and dead dogs out of your dreams. They think they have a right to be there in all of their once alive glory. They laugh and hug or pant and bark and wag their tails and make you believe during your REM state that they are totally alive. For blissful moments, you believe, like it was yesterday, but the sepia tones should be a giveaway. When your dog wiggles her rear end and skips, your chest tightens as consciousness fights for witness: this is a dream and when I wake up, I will cry.
Dream by FloridaBorne
“Mother? Where am I?”
“We’re having a nice hot cup of tea.”
She held her plain white porcelain mug with dainty fingers, and took a sip.
“Why are you wearing a white dress? You hate white.”
The scent of Earl Grey intermingled with six white fresh-cut roses from her garden. The sun began to drift down…down…down…fiery golds, orange and red becoming muted greys and green while we silently sipped tea together.
Darkness…bone chilling cold…legs pinned…arms pressed under tons of earthquake.
“Mama…I don’t want to die. Not like this!”
“Sleep my child,” Mother said. “Soon you will be coming home.”
Yet Another Day by Kittyverses
It was yet another day. After the death of her husband, their son decided to travel overseas to seek fortune, promising to return soon.
Days turning to months,months to years, all that she cherished of him were the weekly telephonic conversations.
It wasn’t that her son didn’t want to care of her but monetary circumstances prevented him from returning back.
There was a knock on the door, one fine day. Hurrying to open, standing in front of her was her son. Pinching herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, she cried in joy, Son! My faith has won.
Dream by Kalpana Solsi
She lay supine on the hospital bed surviving on prayers of children and modern medicines.
She feels her soul separate from her mortal body as Chitragupt calls her name.
“Beware, thorns and stones that hurt you” he cautioned.
“I have experienced pains and downfalls”, she trailing him.
“My Home needs a replacement to be run altruistically. The children would suffer”, she requests.
“They’re my children”, she emphasizes.
Doctors credit her recovery to a miracle.
“Was it a dream or trance?”
“Was it re-birth?”, questions a journo.
She nods, waves at the vanishing Chitragupt.
Lion Fish Vacuum by Anthony Amore
Robert follows the Lion Fish deeper into the reef, spear ready. An invasive species in the Keys, these are legal prey.
Within reach something yanks from behind, tugging; the mask falls from his face. Oxygen evaporates gulping water gasping.
He jolts awake. He’s never been diving in his life. He’s never been anywhere. HIs legs, his arms, they do not work. This was a scene from a cooking show that flickered last night and glowed deep into the vacuum of his hospital room.
Feeding him water from a straw, the night nurse says. “Sleep tight.” He will likely not.
Sharing Dream Time by Liz Husebye Hartmann
She rolls in flickering blue and white, darts between other bodies, slick and shining, touching but not colliding. Breaching, she leaps into the moon, heavy with promised bounty. She swallows silver light, joyfully sated as it fills her center.
Deep drumbeats increase in speed and volume, drawing near. Writhing and diving, she hides from grey and black shadows that slash and shred. In an eyeblink, Moon’s soft rays hang bloody between wicked spearhead teeth.
She wakes, wiping salt tears from her son’s eyes. Repeated night terrors; she no longer knows if he’s sharing her dream, or she’s sharing his.
The Dream Tweeter by Bill Engleson
“She’s finally asleep.”
“You sure? She fakes it sometimes.”
“I lingered awhile. Just watching…if she’s a faker, she’s damn good at it.”
“She tell you the story?”
“That thingee she’s been rambling on about…the dream tweeter, the goblin who steals dreams and then tweets them to God knows where.”
“Yeah, she mentioned him. It?”
“It about covers it. I think she’s been watching too much television…especially cable news. She doesn’t even know what a tweet is.”
“Who does. I mean, what’s the actual point of twitter.”
“Well, by some measure, its purpose is to keep the President sedated.”
Dumbfounded by Michael
I was watching TV when a boy from the school over the road set himself up on my veranda. He thought my place was his study centre. I told him to leave. I thought of child protection and all that involved.
Then there was a noise in my kitchen. Around my kitchen table eating my food were a heap of Year 9 students. I rang the school and the Principal came over. He thought it a great joke. He shuffled them out explaining in the kindest terms it was time to go back to class.
I woke up! Dumbfounded!
Off with the Fairies by Norah Colvin
Each year the school reports told the same story:
He’s off with the fairies.
Needs to pay more attention.
Doesn’t listen in class.
Must try harder.
Needs a better grasp on reality.
Will never amount to anything.
Meanwhile, he filled oodles of notebooks with doodles and stories.
When school was done he closed the book on their chapter, and created his own reality with a best-selling fantasy series, making more from the movie rights than all his teachers combined.
Why couldn’t they see beneath the negativity of their comments to read the prediction in their words?
Writing about The Island before Writing about The Island by Elliott Lyngreen
The outfield was a road; curved. Another couple formed an unoccupied lot, an island which resembled a baseball diamond..
Frontyards were HOMERUN territory.
Relays came from manicured gardens, yard niches, overwhelmed ivy, realms in two-story architecture; swiftly from Murphy, swung to Fearns, divided down to Harold at the sidewalk crosshairs—pitcher’s mound—to goofy Darryl – who tags Stewart with a catcher’s mit.
We knew John Zaciejewski’s garage code; for more gloves, bats, balls…; and his pool.
Dreams never stood a chance for the Major Leagues.
Yet immersed….from wonderous transition, to awake neck hairs softly tingled.
Formed as literature.
I May Be A Dreamer by Geoff Le Pard
Rupert steepled his fingers. ‘My dreams? Goodness.’
Penny sat at her uncle’s feet, rocking her baby sister.
Mary shared a grin with her half-brother. ‘Mine were cliched. Ballerina, show jumper.’
Penny waited. Finally, Rupert said, ‘I didn’t know it then, but finding you. A family.’
‘You had your mum.’
‘Oh and I was happy but now, well, it’s better.’
Penny frowned. ‘Does that count as a dream? I mean, looking back?’
‘A retrospective dream? What do you think Mary?’
‘Why not? Especially if it comes true.’
Penny smiled. ‘We’ll make it a thing. Our thing.’
‘Yes, a family thing.’
Family Resignation by Diana Nagai
The summer sunset held my gaze as I pulled the blanket tighter. My aunt, who had raised me, sat close.
“Are you happy?” she broke the silence.
“I achieved the life I wanted.”
“When did you stop dreaming?”
I tensed at the implication. “Did I? I hadn’t realized.”
“I’ve always been proud of you, you know that. But, you could have been so much more.”
Her words stung. I was happy with who I became. And I still dream, everyday, that my parents hadn’t gotten into the car that fatal night. But out loud, “Yes, auntie.”
Flash Fiction by Carrie Gilliland Sandstrom
I sit in my arm chair like a cat, curled up in the sun. My book lays open but its words cannot capture my attention today. I am pulled under, into a dreamy state by warmth and comfort. I like to play there while the light dances on my eyelids giving my world an orange-red glow. I dream of sandy beaches, cool crystal blue water and a tanned lifeguard named Rico.
Rico walks over to me, eyes inviting and warm.
I ease my eyes open to address my interruption, “Yes?”
“I can’t find my other frog slipper.”
Family Sacrifice by Kerry E.B. Black
The sight paralyzed Ward, a vestige of a nightmare brought to reality. They walked from the fog, cloaked figures wearing crosses that swung with each step. Faces once familiar contorted with fervor and undeterred purpose.
Ward backed to his door, certain they would rip through their clothing to reveal their natures. Wolves, hungry for a kill, anxious to devour the weakest of the pack. Instead of howling, the lead man presented official documents to Ward. “We’ve come for the woman named Nina. Relinquish her, and there will be no trouble.”
Nina. His secret sister. Sacrifice for his family’s safety.
The Anthem by Allison Maruska
I approach the lone microphone on the 50-yard line. Stadium lights shine down, obscuring the thousands of spectators. I clasp my shaking hands in front of me.
“Singing our National Anthem tonight is Cassandra Jenson, senior at Ridgefield High School.” The announcer’s voice echoes off the stands. “Please stand.”
Silence fills the stadium, and I take a breath, remembering my starting pitch. “Oh say—”
“Cassie!” Jordan shakes my arm, pulling me from my daydream. “I got it! I’m singing the anthem!”
“Oh.” I smile, covering my disappointment. We both knew only one singer would get the job. “Congratulations!”
Dreams Come True by Susan Zutautas
Meg was having a hard time finding a new job. She’d been on countless interviews and was starting to wonder if she’d ever find a job. Exhausted from travelling all over the city, she flopped down on her bed in tears. As she drifted into a deep sleep she was thinking the move to this new city might have been a bad idea.
That night her deceased mother came to her in a dream and told her everything was going to be okay.
Meg was woken by the phone. She was offered a position and could she start immediately.
Transmission to Transition by D. Avery
“Kid, you gotta grin a mile long on that face a yours.”
“‘Less I’m dreamin’, Shorty’s back!”
“Yep, I saw. She brought us flowers from the prairie, by gosh.”
“She’s been on walkabout.”
“Walkabout? You been talkin’ with Aussie?”
“Well, it has been kind of a vision quest for Shorty, ain’t it?”
“I reckon so. She’s been runnin’ down a dream alright.”
“Well now what?”
“There’s work involved in a dream coming true, Kid.”
“I know. What can we do to help?”
“Shorty will keep us posted. In the mean time, dream along.”
“Dreamin’ big as a prairie sky!”