dream threads

Also in a separate New Post today try the following writing activity using the interesting sentences regarding dreams that you and your classmates came up with on Wednesday (see the list below in Courier New  for your choices).  We'll call these sentences "dream threads," little bits that you've pulled from a bigger piece and that could be "woven" back together in interesting ways.

• Choose one of the sentences to begin your story.  You may use it word for word or alter it slightly if necessary.
• Choose another sentence to end your story.
• Fill in the space in between with a story connecting the two sentences. This will likely be fiction but it doesn't have to be.  It also doesn't need to be especially long and may only be a portion of a bigger, more complicated story--maybe 200 words or so--but it could be.

The house has expansive rooms with wide, white baseboards, shabby floral wallpaper, old windows with wavy glass—potential everywhere I look.

One of the tall buildings has a clock on it that will chime at midnight and set off a beautiful fireworks show, like blooming flowers.

He was trapped in a small, compact room with bright shards of glass protruding from every available surface.

I was in my house with my six-year-old sister Reese and we were all alone until I heard a noise like someone tapping a table with their nails.

The sky was really green for some reason and I had a friend there with me but I don’t remember who it was.

I thought about whatever was most important to me that day.

I tried to swim but the push of the water held me back from saving a lost soul.

Maybe something is calling me back or an irrational childhood fear.

The silhouette was staring at me; I tried to speak but I was paralyzed.

Through the window I watched it cross; from that point I had no control.

I was going through this very detailed, psychedelic purple portal.

My feet were rough against the sidewalk as I made my escape.

I wonder way too much about the world and how it works.

She would never grow up, would never kiss a boy, would never grow old with me.

I’m wondering why I left the house with no clothes on.

I was in a maze and every time I made it to the exit I would reappear somewhere, lost in the underwater maze.

The men were in dark British uniforms and on tall, dark horses.

He said there is nothing more that they could do, so we had to let her go, I’m sorry.

I think the worst part of the dream was that I talked to him about the same things I did in real life; those were my last words.

This would be my dream, running in and out of closed doors and being chased by some obscene monster.

Whenever I read I always find myself pulled into the book, lulled by the story and imagining myself in that world.