Saja Bo Storm
Stories (43/0)
Dream Sequence
Dream 3: The American Dream Dr. Aiden Moon pushed off his black exercise ball chair and immediately began telling the details of his dream without encouragement from the voice of the speaker. “My parents, Ara and Kyong Moon were Korean immigrants who migrated to America ‘fresh off the boat’ in the hopes of attaining the American dream. My interpretation of that dream clashed fiercely with their ideology. I think the main problem centered around our different philosophies of how to attain success and the American Dream. They believed that I should be educated and pursue the fields of study which would lead me to careers in the fields of medicine, business, or law. Deep down in my soul though, I'd always wanted to be a chef. They vehemently protested my desires even though I had worked in their restaurants from the early age of seven. They also cautioned me concerning my temperament as an American, they told me to ignore and rise above any form of racism whether subtle or overt. I worked hard during the day and became a surgeon at a prestigious hospital in New York. On my days off, I stayed up preparing meals for the enjoyment of my family and friends.” He noticed the audience and the other seven members of the dream study shifted in their seats. Someone coughed, another cleared his throat and when he heard the long-winded sigh, he changed the subject. “How many of you enjoyed the vegetable egg rolls I prepared for you.? Ok. I get it! Time to get down to business.” He clapped his hands together and began his dream story. “In my dream, my halmeoni (grandmother) Aera Park stood at the kitchen table all four feet and two inches mixing sea salt and water until it dissolved. She then poured it over the Napa cabbage and summoned me over to mix it together with my hands. I wasn't an adult in my dream, but my grandmother had passed when I was 10 years old. She lived with my parents and me and only spoke Korean. My younger brother and sisters were quite young when she left us. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed this strangely suspicious and bulky package covered with brown paper. There were postage stamps from a foreign region. I looked back to see that my grandmother was diligently blending the onion, garlic and mixing the red pepper powder and green onions. I asked her in Korean, ‘did this delivery come from overseas?’ She winked at me and combined the ingredients of spices and aromatics with the cabbage she had placed in a large Mason jar. ‘Open it, aleumdaun sonja yeoll-eo kiva’ she whispered. I blushed at her compliment about my handsomeness and grabbed the package. I opened it gingerly and revealed a genuine Korean kitchen knife. The large knife had been made from the traditions of the region where it was hand forged. It appeared crude, rough but handy as a sharp vegetable knife. He turned it over and over admiring its artistry. ‘It will give a warm rustic touch to any cooking atmosphere.’ It was forged in Anseong, a South Korean city where stone and iron craft artisans worked throughout the region. “When I awakened from my dream, I was empty-handed, but it reinforced my concept of success as a Korean- American.” Now I'm ready to go to culinary school. Moon rushed back and positioned his slim body on the exercise ball. He believed that his American dream would begin today. Afterall, the American Dream can be attained by anyone from anywhere. Just reach for it and its yours. Static from the speaker crackled and then the voice from the speaker chimed in, “Dr. Moon, I’m afraid you began without permission and have not been recorded. You have to retell your dream story. Moon sighed, “the American dream doesn't easily come by easily. If you fail, remember to try and try and try again.”
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
Dream 2: Anansi the Spider, and the Dreamcatcher A voice from the speaker spoke calmly but firm. “Cheyenne Lightfoot your dream story. Please.” The voice came from the moderator of the Dream Study she and seven other participants signed up for in anticipation of receiving a generous monetary award. Cheyenne had just gulped the entire bottle of spring water after gobbling down a slice of decadent ‘to die for’ chocolate cake off the refreshment table. Her mouth was full as she pleaded for more time with the voice which appeared to be quite annoyed. “Miss Lightfoot, you are late and unprepared. Should I call on someone else?” With a muffled voice, Cheyenne begged for forgiveness. “I'm so sorry. I'm ready now. That chocolate cake was soooo delicious.” Cheyenne smacked her lips, wiped her mouth with the soiled napkin and plunged into the details of her dream. “At the beginning of my dream, I sat in the center of a circle of ten toddlers with my legs crossed like a fried chicken wing.” She cleared her throat and continued when no one laughed. “I was telling them the legend of the dreamcatcher. Once upon a time, a grandmother was sewing and doing cross stitching or maybe it was needlepoint.” Cheyenne shrugged her shoulders. “Her grandson stopped by with some food. He noticed a spider and was about to squash him when his grandmother stopped him. In turn for saving his life, the spider wove a web which would catch all the good and bad dreams, but only the good ones would come through the web and drop down through the feathers. From that point on, the tribes made dreamcatchers to protect the sleeping children. I held up a dream catcher to show the children how powerfully crafted it was. Can you see? Here, the spider’s web catches all the dreams both good and bad. The beads represented the seven directions called upon them to bless you. Good dreams flowed through the webbing and reach the feathers down to all of you while you're sleeping. Are we ready to make dream catchers?” I asked them. In my dream I sat them down in the art room and provided them with all the materials they needed to make dreamcatchers. I gave them colorful beads, feathers, strings, one wide circle which represents Mother Earth, four smaller ones used to enhance the largest circle. I walked around the tables helping out any child who needed assistance. They were having a lot of fun. So was I. Until everything went south. Suddenly, a loud booming crash was heard outside of the room. All the lights went out. ‘Hello, I think that's dumb. Who turned out the lights? You’re scaring us! I mean, the children.’ The children stopped their crafts and began running in circles. I calmed them down. Some pulled at my clothes, some hid behind me, and others cried out, mommy I need you. I think I was the one yelling mommy. I said to the children, don’t worry I'll protect you. I turned the lights on and said, ‘Everybody, follow me to the back door’. I gathered and herded all the children to the back door where all their parents and guardians were miraculously waiting. As soon as I turned back around, the intense stare of two red eyes from the back of the art room pierced my very being. I still had the dreamcatcher in my hand, and it surprised me when I heard a small voice. I looked down at the center of the dreamcatcher and noticed a spider. It was not just any old spider; it was Anansi the spider of African folklore fame. Anansi is a great trickster who professes than no matter how small you are, you can think to outwit your greatest enemy. Anansi whispered, ‘don't move. Any sudden moves will be seen as a threat.’ In my dream, a bad dream surfaced and escaped from the center of the dreamcatcher. The sun’s rays were overcome from the tremendous number of bad dreams the night before and a demon slipped through the vortex and now it was after me. Anansi told me that no weapon would be strong enough to defeat the demon. He also told me that I had to find a way to fool him. ‘How do I fool a demon?’ I asked him. ‘I don't know’, Anansi said with a gleam in his eye, ‘How do you?’ Anansi chuckled and continued, ‘I would offer him a reason for not destroying me.’ I asked him, ‘what do I have to offer?’ ‘Hmmm’, Anansi said, ‘you really don't have to offer him anything. You have to make him think that you're offering him something that he desires.’ ‘Umm, I know what I can offer him…my soul.’ Well, Anansi said, ‘that's quite a valuable commodity. Are you sure you want to offer it?’ ‘It's just an offer.’ I said. ‘I intend to keep my soul forever.’ I approached the demon ready for the negotiations of a lifetime. My lifetime at least. I gathered up my courage and marched toward the demon holding the dreamcatcher close to my chest. ‘How dare you approach me You are but a mere human.’ The demon grumbled. ‘Yes, but I know you want something from me…unbelievably valuable…my soul. I have an offer…’ Just that quickly in an instant, in a blink of a red eye, Anansi hopped from the dreamcatcher to the demon and bit him leaving a venomous toxin that devoured the insides of the demon. He imploded immediately. ‘What! Anansi, why didn’t you tell me your plan? You let me risk my life to defeat a demon when all you had to do was bite it?’ ‘Well,’ Anansi said rubbing his hind legs. ‘I needed you to distract the demon. Teamwork is the best plan. I needed you and you needed me. Your soul is intact. Check one. I remain unsquashed. Check two. One demon defeated. Checkmate.’
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
Policy Pete's Dream Number’s Book Eight strangers formed a wide circle around the center of the room. There were no windows, bare walls, and subdued amber light. The room temperature was a moderate seventy-two degrees. David Kensington sat in the center of the Queen Anne’s chair reminiscent of his grandmother’s gold upholstered reading chair. He used to watch his favorite programs in her room when his four brothers and three sisters refused to let him watch what he wanted. He was the youngest and the last child to get his say. So, he always ran up the flight of twenty odd steps to the third floor and knocked softly on his grandmother’s bedroom door. He could watch whatever he wanted while she smiled up from her Agatha Christie paperback and enjoyed his company. David scanned the room. He was observing the seven other people. Wondering what they had in common. Dreams, he thought silently. Our dreams. Someone sat perched on the edge of their seat., others were relaxed and comfortable, and the rest appeared comatose or sleep. A soft calm voice from the speaker located in the far upper right corner of the ceiling greeted the strangers. It thanked them again for being punctual and congratulated them for being selected for the unique dream study. At the end of the session, you will be awarded a generous cash payment for your participation. It asked if anyone had any questions and when no one responded the voice said, “David Kensington, you may begin with Dream One.” David squirmed in the comfortable chair and cleared his throat. He pushed up from the chair and walked over to the refreshment table grabbing a bottle of spring water and a granola bar. He took a sip from the bottle and walked casually back to his seat. “Should I tell you all about my dream?” “Yes, Mr. Kensington, if you would begin. We will start with you. Dream One.” “Well, I'm a city boy. I grew up in a rowhouse located in the heart of the city not far from the Inner Harbor and downtown. When I thought about my dream, I remembered that my grandmother playing numbers. She always had a dream book and when she dreamed about certain things like a pair of old shoes, running from a stranger, a cup of hot chocolate. It could be anything. Sometimes it was even a number. Almost every adult in our neighborhood played numbers on the street. And if your number came out, you won money. When I grew up, I did research on the numbers. Many people had dream books they referred to. In fact, I looked up the dream book on the website and I found Policy Pete's dream book written in 1933. Now Pete lived in Harlem, New York and he had a book that you could refer to for help in picking the perfect number. It coincided with anything that you dreamed about though. I looked and looked through that book, but I couldn't find any number for an old barn. 647 is the number for tractor though. He laughed, There’s a tractor in my dream.” “Mr. Kensington, the voice interjected, we’re waiting to hear about your dream.” “Oh, my bad. I almost forgot. As I was saying, I grew up in the city. There weren't many trees or other forms of greenery in my neighborhood. A lot of dirty white concrete, dusty brown bricks, and pasty gray cement. But I remembered that my mother planted sunflowers in the backyard and those flowers were beautiful. They had humongous yellow petals with brown centers. Hey, they were almost taller than me. It was very surprising that I had a dream about a farm. In my dream I remember seeing chickens and pigs, cows, and goats. There were about six or seven horses grazing at the top of the hill. The sky was as blue as the bluest blueberries. The air was fresh, and you could just breathe it in enjoying the sweet nectar. There was a slight breeze blowing and the sun warmed your body like a thin cotton blanket. The pungent smells of the farm contrasted with the horrible smells of the city like the car exhaust and the factory smoke. In the middle of the farm set a large old red barn. Sing so far away. I wondered where everybody had disappeared to because early in the morning most people who lived on a farm were awake doing farm chores. Of course, I knew nothing about what they did. I only read about it. Milking the cows, slopping the pigs, feeding the chickens and goats, and grooming the horses. In my dream, I couldn't feel my legs after a while, and I realized I was sweating buckets of stale liquid. The walk was getting difficult because the barn was situated at the top of the hill. The more I walked, the further it appeared. I stopped, put my head down, placed my hands on my knees and took a few quick breaths. I inhaled and exhaled several times before I continued my journey. The old barn on closer speculation was brand new. It didn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery. It looked as if someone had just built it or placed it there for ambiance because everybody knows you need an old barn on a farm. I mean there were tractors and other farming equipment and the animals so it wouldn't be right if there wasn’t a barn.” David continued while the others looked at him incredulously, some with questions reflected in their eyes. Someone shouted, “Just get on with it. Listen the suspense is killing me.” Yeah, someone else chirped in, “What’s in the stupid old barn?” “Oh. Ok, I'm sorry. I just recalled and recollected the details in my dream. You know how if you don't do that as soon as you wake up, you'll forget everything. Of course, I didn't forget anything. Now I was in front of the barn. There were no knobs only a board across the two wide doors. I tried to lift the wooden bar and secured with unknotted dangling rope which hung from the other door. The doors were extremely heavy. I wasn't sure I could lift them. I held my breath and gathered up some residual strength. I finally was able to push the door open. I slowly stepped in and noticed that the barn had windows but no light from the outside illuminated it. There was a huge crowd of people standing in the dimness of the interior. Some were sitting on the bales of hay. As I approached them, their eyes signaled me with expressions of trepidation, maybe fear. Some made hand gestures as if they cautioned me to stop. Although no one made a sound. It was quiet and still. The air inside was stuffy still and thick. Something in the back of the bar loomed over the crowd. Pairs of round spheres appeared motionless in the backdrop at the top of the barn’s highest point. I wasn't sure if I should continue or turn around and run.” David blew out a deep breath. “So, what did you do?” someone shouted from the circle. “Yeah, what happened?” another voice yelled. The room grew energetic with the sounds of anxious voices. The hum and the buzz of the crowd grew intense. A few of the strangers headed for the door. The voice interjected, “Everyone please quiet down. Calm down and remain seated. Mr. Kensington, finish your dream, please.” David stood up. He threw up his hands and frowned. “I don't know what I did, David said, I woke up.”
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“Dream on,” Marigold read the title on the bold purple and gold brochure. She decided to sign up for the dream study and looked up from the ad to view the Victorian mansion with elaborate gingerbread trim standing majestically at the top up the hill. Marigold laughed out loud. Whoa, what! The Uber driver pulled into the driveway and with a switch, he opened the trunk. Marigold hopped out and retrieved her luggage. She had dreamed of this very house. “My dream home! It's mine! What a great start,” she said as she shifted the bags to fit on top of each other and steered them toward the entrance. She stopped short and glanced up exhaling deeply. The scene took her breath away. A backdrop of four majestic trees behind the building with flashes of sun splashing between the leaves of a magnolia tree, a pink cherry blossom, a red maple, and a golden oak. To the right of the house stood a white willow tree with an ornate white wooden bench planted leisurely in front of it. A wrap around porch adorned with picket white fence borders with matching gingerbread awning hanging from the second story. On the left of the house there was an attached pewter domed gazebo complete with a white wooden rocking chair. There were ten windows including an attic window. The second-floor windows had ecru colored curtains and windowsills decorated with fresh begonias with exception to the two windows in the center which had curtains as yellow as daffodils. The walkway was rose quartz and limestone with shimmering bits of granite. There was the burnt orange, pink, red and white azalea bushes, hydrangeas rhododendrons blue zenith and ten distinct varieties of flowers in various sizes, shapes, and colors. To the right stood another walkway beyond the tree to the right of the house which was accented with an adorned archway centered over a walkway which led to nowhere or somewhere. “Time to go in”, she trudged toward the door and did a double take when she noticed a petite woman with shocking pink hair lounging on the white bench in front of the willow tree. She stepped forward and almost knocked over a tall, robust man with midnight black curly hair and bright dark eyes. “Oh, forgive me. I was still blinded by the beauty. The property she gestured not the girl on the bench.” He chuckled, following her eyes. “No problem, I’m mesmerized as well. I too am a member of the dream group.” She shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Marigold.” “You go first please.” Ernesto said. He nodded as he held the door open and adjusted the strap of his carry-on so it would be more comfortable on his shoulder. “Thank you. Ernesto,” she smiled as they proceeded inside the lush vestibule. There was a sign to the left that read, Place your luggage here. Be sure to add on name tags. Then proceed to the lobby where other instructions await on the four tables. They followed the instructions and pushed forward to the first table. They noticed color coded name tags with matching room keys. There was also a red arrow pointing to Table 2. They heard a bustled behind them as they moved on. “Hi, guys.” came a deep voice behind them. “I'm David… David Kensington and this is Cheyenne Lightfoot.” “Yeah, we met at the train station and shared a Lyft.” Cheyenne said as she pushed past David and snatched her name tag and keys. “Game on! ”Umm, we're the first ones here I guess.” There were three other name tags left. She adorned her jacket with the name tag and rushed toward the next table. Ernesto and David shrugged and gestured for Marigold to continue. “So much for good manners, “David grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear. Cheyenne had already read the instructions for Table 2. They were told to select a favorite chair that they could use in the sleep presentation chamber. She made her selection and emailed it to the website although she was still undecided about the color’. When she looked up, she realized the three members behind her had already proceeded to Table 3. “Geesh, this isn't a race. Some people need more manners.” David, Marigold, and Ernesto looked back and noticed two other women at Table one retrieving their name tags. “Oh, she’s the one who was sitting outside. I remember the pink hair and the names on the last name tags. They must be Alexia and Princess. I wonder if they know each other?” Marigold said as she walked up to Table 3. Ernesto and David were peering into the medium size cardboard box. They were instructed to select one folded paper. “Ladies first,” they said together. “No, I think I'm going to be the gracious one this time. David shook his head and reached in for a slip of paper. “Woo hoo, I’m number one!” David shouted. Ernesto was next and then Marigold. Shortly after Cheyenne arrived and reached in. Cheyenne read the instructions. “This number represents the order of your dream presentation” “Damn” growled David. I’m going first. “I'm 4, Ernesto chimed. “I'm right behind you David, Cheyenne said, “I'm number 2.” Princess and Alexia stepped up to the box and reluctantly retrieved their slips of paper. “I think I'm last” Princess said, “number 8.”” I’m lucky number 7,” shouted Alexia. They heard a scuffle at the front door and noticed the man trying to handle four pieces of luggage without much success. They all laughed and preceded to Table 4. “I guess he plans on sleeping his life away”, Princess said. “I don't know maybe he brought some dream enhancers” Cheyenne added. “What are those?” Ernesto asked.” “There’s no such thing. I was just kidding.” She laughed. “Don’t be too sure. maybe they have made some scientific advancements in the field of dream study.” David offered. The dream group headed for Table 4. Table four’s instructions for the group were to continue their journey at their leisure. There were brochures on the table with information about dream interpretation, the REM syndrome, the layout of the establishment, the floor plan with directions to the exercise room and sauna, the spa, inside swimming pool, library, entertainment room for gaming and streaming, a movie theater and then outside tennis, volleyball, basketball courts, and a golf course. The man with the four pieces of luggage collapsed in front of the group. He panted like a wild animal. After a few breaths he said, “this place is fantastic!”. I'm Jason Lee Jones, but you can call me ‘number 5’”. Let’s do this!” he shouted giving Ernesto and David high fives. He was heading for Alexia and Cheyenne, but they backed away graciously. “What happened to number 3? Cheyenne asked. Right ahead of them stood a posh- looking restaurant., “I am starving!” exclaimed Alexia. Ernesto said, Yeah, let’s go eat.” Princess said,” I guess after that we can decide what activities we want to engage in” “And Cheyenne, Alexia offered, you can search the grounds for number 3.” I’m just kidding, c’mon join the group.” The rest of the group chuckled as they all entered the restaurant together. When they walked in, they saw a lanky young man wearing aviator shades sitting at a large circular table devouring a huge cobb salad. He gestured for them to come over. “Hi everybody, I am doctor Moon… Aiden Moon, number 3. Everything's buffet style. Why don't you grab your food and come over to join me? When everybody sat down at the table, David shook Moon’s hand. “How long have you been here man? you look oddly well rested.” he asked. “I got here at 4AM. I crashed for at least four hours upstairs on the second floor in my cozy room. The accommodations are as good as a five-star hotel. Heated bathroom tile, jacuzzi, king-sized beds, duvet covers…and much, much more. I opened the windows, and the view was astounding. You’ll see. Hopefully, soon. I came back down to get something to eat. I see you all have different tastes. There’s burgers, sushi, shrimps and grits, chicken and waffles…he pointed at Cheyenne’s dish, and I don’t even want to know what you’re eating.” Cheyenne slurped and winked at him. For the next couple of minutes everybody was silent chowing down. Cheyenne gulped a few sips of water and said “I think I'm going to follow your lead Aiden. I'm going to take a shower and try to relax.” “I'm going outside to shoot some hoops Ernesto shouted, anybody want to join me.” “Sure”, David offered. “Count me in too, “said Jason. “I’m going to the gym” Marigold interjected. Aiden quipped; “the gym sounds good as he rubbed his stomach. I’m stuffed and I need a workout.” “I think I’m going to the library, Alexia added. “Princess said, “I’m not sure where I'm going.” “You can join us Ernesto shouted we need another player.” She answered, “Ok, I think I need to change…” A voice from a speaker interrupted, “Welcome beautiful dreamers, your last instruction is to deposit all electronic devices in the lockers outside of the gaming room. You’ll received them back after the dream study group has ended. Have a pleasant evening have and be ready to report for your first presentation at 8 A.M. for Dream One. Mr. Kensington if you step outside to the right of the restaurant and take the corridor to the left, there's a long narrow hall. When you're ready to retire for the evening, there's a room especially made for those who are presenting their dreams the next day. The dream room is equipped with amber light, sensitive sounds conducive for sleep, and a bamboo mattress and heat sensitive linen. The walls are lined with proper ventilation panels. If any of you have further inquiries, please list them, and place them on the metal locked boxes outside of your rooms. I wish for all of you good dreams. Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let… Well, I think you know the rest.” The sleep study group studied each other’s reactions. They were stunned. All a handful of mouths slack jawed and gaping, and eyes widely opened. No one moved. Then everybody scrambled, and began running in five different directions, not quite ready to get their dreams on.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“On the first day of Christmas,” Princess stood on her beige Adirondack chair belting out her favorite Christmas tune. “My true love gave to me.” She outstretched her arms and waved an imaginary baton as if she was conducting a church choir. Everybody stared wide-eyed. Some of the members of the dream study group joined in as she ended the first chorus, “A partridge in a pear tree.” Princess tried to balance her body, which was hard to do on one prosthetic leg and a wounded arm from an explosion in the Iraq war. She had completed two tours of duty before the accident. They members of the sleep study group all stood and cheered as Princess hopped off her chair, wrapped her camo jacket around her waist, and danced around the room. David, Aiden and Ernesto formed a circle and pranced around Princess as she waltzed and twirled in the center of the ring. Alexia and Marigold ran over and joined her in the center. Jason and Cheyenne remained seated but clapped to the beat of the lively, but traditional Christmas song. “Miss Lovejoy, the voice from the speaker spoke, do you sing in your sleep?” Princess immediately halted her performance and plopped down in her chair exhausted and embarrassed. She wrapped a throw accented with colorful nutcrackers around her shoulders and pulled her legs up in a bow. She pulled a juicy Bartlett pear out of her backpack and bit down hard sending juices in a trajectory, some of them spilling down on her chin. I have a pear tree in my backyard. If anyone needs a snack, feel free to help yourself. I brought some with me. They’re on the refreshment table in the back. Far healthier than a slice of chocolate cake. The group chuckled. She wiped her mouth and began her dream story. “Good day everyone, are you get ready for Christmas in summer?” She laughed. “In my dream, I was lounging at my kitchen table enjoying some Earl Grey iced tea and buttery, shortbread cookies. The doorbell rang and I pushed up out of my state of chill. It was the mailman. Harrison usually waited for me to retrieve the mail. We had been talking for three of the five years that he was my carrier. I recalled that I did most of the talking. He was a good listener. I watched him hop back in his truck, shrugged, grabbed the mail from out of the mailbox and took it back to the table. There were a few bills, junk mail, and a bright crimson envelope. With eyes wide, I opened it first. It was a Christmas card. How strange was that! A Christmas card in 90-degree weather. I flipped the card from side-to-side and front to back. There was no return address. Curious, I tore it open and read the inscription. It was mysteriously signed ‘the man of your dreams.’ Princess peered into the eyes of her companions. “I'm dreaming and I get a Christmas card from the man of my dreams. I wondered who could have sent the card. The signature was unrecognizable to me, and I hadn't had the company of a man for a couple of years now. I was a hard-working employee trying to use my ambition to get from salesclerk to manager, so I literally had no time for friends, family, significant others, boyfriends, girlfriends, frenemies… well, you get the picture.” “Ok, TMI, back to the dream people. I reexamined the card searching for clues. There was a snowy outside scene on the back. Billowy white snow and tree limbs covered completely with snow and icicles. On the front of a card there was a beautifully decorated house and three figures making snow angels. Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, and Rudolph, the Red Nose Reindeer. This Christmas card made me smile and feel warm inside. I still didn't know who ‘the man of my dreams’ could be. So, who are you Mr. Dreamy? I thought about the significant men in my life, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out who ‘the man of my dreams’ could be. For the next twelve days, I received gifts from ‘the man of my dreams.’ Each gift was a token of affection, which further touched my heart. The first gift was a large box of different flavored dark chocolate. There was raspberry, orange, mint, coconut and peanut butter. As I sampled the flavors, I thought about Michael, the blues singer who was tall, lean but athletic. He was a chocolate delight. And I love dark chocolate. He sported a bald head and wore one gold stud. I don't think he ever took it off, but I'll never tell. The second gift was a lavender aromatic soy candle. I immediately lit the candle inhaling the deliciously soothing aroma. I thought about another candidate who smelled just as delicious as the candle. He could be Gabe. Gabe had bushy red hair and eyebrows that matched. He played Rugby from dawn to dusk. I wasn’t all that fond of rugby, I’m more of an NFL football fanatic. What we liked together was sushi and haiku. I still had his rugby green and white pull over in my hall closet. On the third day, I received a small black jewelry box. When I opened it, I yelled and jumped up for joy. It was a blueish purple, orange-red, gold shiny butterfly pin. I immediately opened the clasp and pinned it on my t shirt. Strange you say, but it was summertime and too hot for a sweater. On day four, I received a pink box which held a blue and white decorated can of hibiscus tea leaves that I immediately steamed. I could hardly wait a good four minutes. I think I brewed it for just two and a half and plopped in some crushed ice. I can’t forget about my tea drinking truck driver Raoul. His hair was shoulder length, and he was kind of stocky. Most of the weekends he was away. But when he was in town, we enjoyed spicy Indian food and old movies. On the fifth day, I received a plush stuffed Unicorn. I love stuffed animals and the unicorn is my spirit animal. On the sixth day, I received a pair of fuzzy socks. I immediately put them on because my feet are always cold… whether its summer, spring, falls, or winter. The socks were the color of the Jamaican flag and Kingsley came to mind. I'd met him on a cruise to the Bahamas. By some coincidence and serendipity, we rekindled our friendship when we ran across each other at a reggae festival the next summer. He cooked four straight months for me, and I enjoyed his jerk chicken, goat meat and fried plantains. I gained 15 pounds before I bid him adieu. On the seventh day, I received a bag of my favorite nuts, jumbo cashews and a case of natural spring water on the eighth. I received a purple journal, a packet of thank you cards, and a fine tipped ink pen on the ninth, tenth and eleventh days respectively. I ran out of men I could equate my gifts too as well. It was now the last day and I still didn't know who ‘the man of my dreams’ was. So, I decided on the twelfth day to don my deerstalker after I received the copy of the e. e. cummings collected works of poetry. I was really confused. Whoever this person was this ‘man of my dreams,’ knew me from head to toe and inside and out. He could see into my very soul and figured out what gifts I would love. This dreamboat was the perfect man of my dreams. I thought about these men in my life, and I was determined to hunt for more clues. It didn’t matter that they were no longer men in my life or even that we parted, one of them could still be the man of my dreams. The doorbell rang and started me. I rushed to the door. The mailman, I barely remembered his name was an average height man medium build. He had a small close- cropped Afro, bushy eyebrows, a thin mustache in a wide grin. He had delivered another package and appeared to be eager to make a quick retreat. ‘Wait a minute,’ I said.’ He looked reluctant to turn around. ‘Is this package from you?’ The mailman’s gaze was suspiciously sheepish. ‘It was you! all this time. I clucked my tongue. ‘You sent me that Christmas card signed, the man of your dreams! Didn’t you?’ his shoulders slumped, and his brown have eyes met hers for the first time. I know quite a bit about little things and bigger things…your likes dislikes, career goals, etc. I hoped to be the man of your dreams. But trust me, I’m no stalker. I blushed and said, ‘You’ve been the perfect man for me, the man of my dreams but now I really need to step up to fulfill ‘the woman of your dreams’ position. I have been talking, talking and talking and you’ve been listening, and I know nothing about your likes, dislikes, career goals, etc. I, from this day forward intend to make that up to you. Please, I don’t even know your whole name.’ My name is Simon Harrison. Simon, please come to dinner after your shift. I would love to hear everything about you. This ‘man of my dreams’ concept can’t work unless we reciprocate. I intend on making it happen…to be the true woman of your dreams.” Simon reached for her hand and kissed it softly, ‘I can hardly wait. It’s all I dream about.’
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“Nobody freak out!” Alexia Knight cautioned. “Just relax. Breathe in and breathe out. Before I begin, let me tell you that I actually had a nightmare last night. Calm down. Relax. You know that a nightmare is a frightening experience. It really is an unpleasant dream. So, it still qualifies right?” Alicia nodded as she looked up at the speaker. The voice from the speaker chimed, “Miss Knight, you are correct.” Alicia continued, "We only have two more dreams to listen to and since mine is a nightmare, I'm going to give you some ideas on how to relieve that panic you may experience from having a nightmare. You should do what I researched. It’s called the 4-7-8 breathing exercise.” Alicia clapped her hands together in an attempt to motivate the sleep study members. “Everybody stand. Come on, get up.” Alexia hopped up from her purple bean bag chair and directed the reluctant group. "First, let your lip’s part. Make a whooshing sound, exhale completely through your mouth." The voice from the speaker interrupted, “Is this quite necessary, Miss Knight?” “It is. The dream is pretty eerie and creepy." “Alright, Miss Knight you have permission to continue.” “Thank you, uh Sir, madam speaker, sir. Next, close your lips, inhaling silently through your nose as you count to 4 in your head. Then, for 7 seconds, hold your breath. Now make another whooshing exhale from your mouth for 8 seconds. Let's do it again because some of you can't follow directions properly and the others of you just look completely dumbfounded, I've got another and better idea people. Just play some of your favorite music or do fifty pushups." Alexia laughed. "Everybody can sit back down now. Here's my dream slash nightmare slash frightmare for your listening pleasure. In my dream, I was a little girl about ten or eleven and me and Rachel, my big sister and a large group of classmates and neighborhood pals were heading to the ice-skating rink. When we got there, it was so overcrowded that they wouldn't let us in. It could have also been that we were making a lot of noise. We must have seemed like an unruly crowd to the man at the door. “Let's go to Henry’s Ice Rink on Caton Avenue,” Michael said. “That skating rink has been closed for repairs for over a year now. We can't go there either.’ One of Rachel's friends suggested that we go to the frozen pond by the old tobacco factory. A younger kid about my age said, ‘My mom and dad told me, and my sister not to ever go near that place.’ 'That place is cursed!’ Charli screamed. George laughed, ‘You’re just scared because you can't skate. “Come on!” Rachel shouted, Stopped clowning. It’s getting close to dinner time. Let's go. It's daylight and no one is trying to scare us. No curse is going to get us. Not on my watch. Trust me.’ Alexia groaned and looked at the study group. “I found it funny that Rachel said that because my oldest sister can't stand me. We’ve never gotten along. When all the kids in school were teasing me saying I was adopted, she never defended me. And now she thinks we should trust her. Ok, I guess that's part of the nightmare… my unresolved feelings about my sister Rachel. But I digress.” Alexia pulled off her khaki jacket and pulled her braids up on top of her head with a red scrunchie she retrieved from her jeans back pocket. Alexia shrugged her shoulders. “Back to the frightmare, we walked through hundreds of tall trees and foliage for what seemed like hours until Rachel found the frozen pond in the clearing up ahead. Everything seemed normal so we slung our ice skates off our shoulders, put them on, and headed for the pond. Everybody hopped on. One minute we were all skating on the frozen pond rubbing our hands together because it was ten degrees below zero and nobody wore gloves. But I wasn't as cold as the others for some strange reason. We were all having fun until we heard an eerie sound from out of nowhere. No wind was blowing but it seemed to travel through the trees. And it sounded like no animal I had ever heard. I spotted the fear on the children’s faces. Before they could panic, Rachel shouted, ‘Come on everybody, we're out of here. Curse or no curse.’ Everybody ran but my knees locked, and I couldn't move. The creepy sound didn't frighten me. It intrigued me. I heard someone or some thing’s voice. I could even translate the sounds. I thought I heard them say, ‘Weie Laj.’ I wondered who Weie was? They were telling Weie to come back home. I fell to my knees and saw my reflection in the icy mirror of the frozen pond. It was shocking! My mahogany skin was now blue and my long, slender piano playing fingers were short and webbed. My purple lips were pursed like a blowfish. My round brown eyes were now slits with grey orbs. I screamed clawing through the ice to get at the monster there. I jumped to my feet and the blades of my skates sliced through the ice which started cracking from the weight of my body. I yelled for Rachel as I fell through. Someone or something grabbed both my legs. I heard, ‘Come back. Come back, Weie. The strange voices said, ‘We’ve been waiting for you.’ They pulled me downward. I closed my eyes tight and relaxed my body anticipating a quick descent into the icy waters, but wait she came back. Rachel was leaning at the edge of the cracked opening and reaching into the freezing ice for me. My big sister did love me! She came back to save me. Just then I realized that I was adopted. I didn't really belong on top of this warm, green world. I belonged in the cold, gray and silver waters. Rachel pleaded with me as she tugged. Alexia, I love you. Please don't let go! You need to be with me so we can grow up together. Trust me.’ I saw the love in my big sister’s eyes, and I turned to say goodbye to my real people kicking and freeing myself from their grip. I held onto Rachel as she pulled me out of the frozen pond to be her sister forever.” Her shoulders slumped. Alexia stood still and quiet. When she spoke, her voice cracked with emotion. She cried out “My nightmare is finally over.” Alexia collapsed to the floor. She started sobbing and the members of the group study ran over grabbing and hugging her tightly. She felt as if she had been pulled up out of the water for a second time. “Miss Knight, are you alright?” the voice from the speaker asked. Alicia sniffed wiping the tears from her eyes, “I will be. Too many of my nights have been filled with bad dreams but now I know that I am not alone. Dreams can come true!” The voice from the speaker offered words of encouragement. “Yes, they can, Miss Knight. Everybody, you’re dismissed early for lunch. Take time to relax and get a good night’s sleep. Try the 4-7-8 breathing routine and pleasant dreams.”
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“Hello, I'm Marigold Mason and I daydream all the time. In my dream, I was driving toward a red light, and I was daydreaming again as I stopped. I always wondered why people daydream or at least why I do. And especially while driving. That's kind of dangerous, isn't it? But I read according to an Atlanta study that daydreamers have more active brains and may be more intelligent and creative than the average person. So that’s a good thing.” Marigold stretched her long legs and swung them around to the front of her pink chaise lounge. She pulled off her dark shades revealing big blue eyes. She patted her pink curls and brushed imaginary specks of lint from her white angora sweater. She took a small sip of her green tea and continued. “Back to my dream. I was at a red light waiting for it to change. I was still daydreaming when the light turned green. I opened my eyes widely and started heading for home. While driving through my neighborhood, I found it unrecognizable. I was on the right street. Yeah, that's Lane Blvd. Yeah, I double checked. Where is my church? My church should be right there. It had been replaced by a tall obelisk shaped building with gold doors and windows where am I? I gasped. I started to turn around and noticed that I was up in the air? How did I get up here? I was in the air several miles above the ground. All life as I remembered had evolved. There were people on the ground jogging with dogs who were on their hind legs. The trees had rainbow-colored leaves and there was a fruit hanging and I didn't know what kind of food it was. I had never seen it before. There was foliage and flowers moving like they had a life of their own. I was glad that there were still bees but on closer inspection they looked mechanical but still carried out the normal activities of pollination. My old blue Honda had metamorphosized into a sleek steel arrow dynamic vehicle. I wonder if it would be safe to land. Land? I don't know how to navigate this thing. But I needed to find out where I was cheering. When I say where I was, I mean what country? Continent? Planet? I saw different kinds of people or species. They were riding in a sleek silver air subway bus full to capacity. There were species with four arms, others with three eyes and some without identification of all sizes shapes and colors. I steered my new vehicle into the center of my neighborhood. I think I spotted my house or at least it looked like it. I commandeered the vehicle into a parking space and stepped out when the doors lifted. My street appeared more uniform now. All the cookie cutter row houses matched. They all were painted sky blue and opaque white. All the doors were terra cotta. And each house had ten opaque steps with gold trim. The top porcelain step glistened and seemed to be deposited with star shapes. The door opened and I stepped inside. I hesitated. I looked from side to side adjusting my eyes to the darkness on the interior,” Marigold took a long deep breath. Everyone in the dream study group scooted at the edge of their seats. The voice from the speaker whispered, “Miss Mason, what happened next?” I walked back to my pink chaise lounge and sauntered into a reclining position. “Well, what happened? Shouted one of the other seven participants. “Yeah, don't keep us waiting!” “Where were you?” another yelled, “I know it's a dream, but I'm scared,” said another. Her voice trembling. Marigold whispered, “Then the light turned green. I stirred from my daydream. I parked in my car in front of the Super Dollar store and went inside to shop for a new pair of sandals. I was so excited! I had been waiting all week for their summer sale! Everybody groaned, even the voice from the speaker seemed a little disturbed. Marigold smiled a little bemused. “What did you think would happen? It’s a dream, people.” The voice from the speaker sighed,” Thank you, Miss Mason. I think we'll take a break for the rest the day.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“Jason Lee Jones,” announced the voice from the speaker. “You're up next!” Jason jumped out of his seat as he grabbed his bar stool so it wouldn't hit the floor. He tripped over the shoes he had taken off. Crash! He tried to prevent the accident, but it happened anyway. He got the attention of the sleeping audience. Everyone was now wide awake. The audience was a group of participants who joined him in a dream study seminar. “Are you quite alright?” asked the voice from the speaker. “I’m good.” “Mr. Jones. Are you ready to begin?” “Yes, I am.” He wondered if the voice had been suppressing a giggle as he picked up the stool and sat down. He wrapped his bare feet around the rungs of the stool. All his life he dodged and ignored stares, pointing, laughter and double takes from classmates and neighbors and most people who didn't understand that he may have been a little different. As he got older, he thankfully and proudly realized that he was a member of a larger community of people who looked and lived just like him. He straightened his chair, wiped off his purple framed glasses, plucked at the loose azure blue curls at the top of his head. “Ahem. Welcome all I also like to dream big when I am awake. Unless we’re really dreaming now like the other dude says. Descartes. I think that’s his name. there’s are the certain things you have to remember if you want to dream big Find out what really matters to you, then dream big. Number one… believe that you can do it. Number two… don’t ask ‘what if I fail?’ Enjoy the fact that you tried. Number three… don’t be afraid of success. If you have more to do, it will be ok. Number four… visualize your goals. You need to have some imagination to do that and number five… Good luck! Take encouragement from others. I’d better start before …well, you know. He pointed upward. Jason stood up and walked away from his stool. I love movies! Mostly, old ones. So, in my dream my boyfriend Sylvester and I were watching one of my favorite movies, Raging Bull. In the beginning of the movie the main character, a wrestler in a sleepwalking trance started quoting something that seemed like Shakespeare. But I was the star of the movie not Robert De Niro and my dream was in black and white just like the movie. I tried to change the main character’s fall from grace event with my dream big philosophy to no avail.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Dream Sequence
“Are you awake, or are we dreaming?” Ernesto Rodriguez scoffed. “Descartes, the great thinker and philosopher of ‘I think, therefore I am’ fame believed that you guys all seven of you may be dreaming now with me, or even existing in my dream. I hope you don't mind if I sit down in my Papasan chair and relax. This dream hit me hard emotionally. I hadn’t anticipated that I could be brought to tears by a dream, but it stirred up old memories and tore me apart, but I will still share it with you. Perhaps the telling of my dream will be cathartic. I really hope Descartes is right… that we are now dreaming because my ‘woke’ life is no joke. In my dream, I found myself back in Buena Vista on November the 1st and 2nd honoring the dead. Dia de Los Muertos… The Day of the Dead. The image of the Mexican holiday includes skeletons which give people who aren’t familiar the idea that it’s associated with the American holiday of Halloween. It’s actually to honor the deceased. November 1st for children and November 2nd for adults. When I lost my first and only love, Alexandra Cortez five years ago in a tragic car accident, I was devastated. I was the driver. Ernesto slumped his shoulders and placed his head in his hands. He looked up and shouted “‘She was the love of my life. That was our wedding day! I lost control of the car. Ay Dios Mio. Why was I saved from death’s grip?” He wiped back the tears and pushed up out of the chair and sat down criss crossing his angular legs. He brushed pushed his hair out of his eyes and continued. “I apologize, people. You too, voice from the speaker.” He cleared his throat. “So, in my dream I placed the marigolds on her grave. Marigolds are called Flor de Muerto. The flower of the dead attracts the souls of the dead. Marigolds are vibrant and represent an aura of encouragement and uplifting feelings. I also placed her favorite foods beside the flowers. I used my abuela’s recipe for Chipotle Carne Guisada. You can serve this smoky beef with tortillas or rice. And my Madre’s recipe for Arroz Con Leche which is rice pudding. When I cook this dish, (we had it almost every Wednesday) we got together at my place to watch her favorite movies. He smiled. “Well, in my dream I sat on the soft cool ground and downed a hit of tequila. The breeze blew strongly causing me to pull my jacket closer around to my body. I felt someone place a scarf around my neck. The multicolored scarf felt soft against my cheek. I had given the same scarf to Alexandra on our first anniversary. An image of my Alexandra appeared before me. She held a fresh bouquet of marigolds in her petite hands. She still had the engagement and wedding rings on her finger. When I opened my mouth to speak, she placed her fingers on my lips to silence me. She sat down and her eyes commanded me to sit beside her. No words were spoken. We watched the stars in the dark sky and remained in each other’s arms until daybreak. When I opened my eyes, she was gone.” Ernesto stood there quietly. When no one reacted, he yelled. “Are you guys awake or are we dreaming?” Ernesto chuckled. No one moved for everyone was moved. “Mr. Rodriguez, the voice from the speaker interrupted. First of all, sorry for your loss. Surely, you think, therefore you dream. By the way, that's a lovely scarf you're wearing.” Ernesto gasped as he grabbed his neck and felt the smooth silk of Alexandra’s scarf.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
When the Shark Bites
Murder is a cruel and messy affair. And the business of private investigation is made dirtier by it. But without murder, there would be no investigations. Danielle and Timothy Hague were newlyweds successfully maneuvering both a happy marriage and a lucrative investigating business.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction
Threading the Needle with Modge Podge
I’ve always appreciated art. I love to draw and at one time thought that I would be an artist. That didn’t happen so When I had the opportunity to participate in this art project, I found the power in art and the power in me. The power portrait project provided many hours of creativity and exploration. Through the exploration of personal narratives, personal iconography, preferred imagery, and expressive writing I participated as an artist of this series to define the way in which I hold power and how I choose to in enact that power in my daily life, and more specifically, in my community. I know that each artist pulls power from a different place, whether it be the natural world, or my family. In turn, each artist then passes, shares, or manifests their power in their own way. Through a series of prompts, surveys in conversation, I as an artist designed and created my own portrait using photography and other mixed media approaches. My portrait celebrates me as creative lifelong learner and speaks to way in which I am truly powerful.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Humans
Dream Sequence
Dream Sequence SFS3 Dream Three: The American Dream Dr. Aiden Moon pushed off his black exercise ball chair and immediately began telling the details of his dream without encouragement from the voice of the speaker. “My parents, Ara and Kyong Moon were Korean immigrants who migrated to America ‘fresh off the boat’ in the hopes of attaining the American dream. My interpretation of that dream clashed fiercely with their ideology. I think the main problem centered around our different philosophies of how to attain success and the American Dream. They believed that I should be educated and pursue the fields of study which would lead me to careers in the fields of medicine, business, or law. Deep down in my soul though, I'd always wanted to be a chef. They vehemently protested my desires even though I had worked in their restaurants from the early age of seven. They also cautioned me concerning my temperament as an American, they told me to ignore and rise above any form of racism whether subtle or overt. I worked hard during the day and became a surgeon at a prestigious hospital in New York. On my days off, I stayed up preparing meals for the enjoyment of my family and friends.” He noticed the audience and the other seven members of the dream study shifted in their seats. Someone coughed, another cleared his throat and when he heard the long-winded sigh, he changed the subject. “How many of you enjoyed the vegetable egg rolls I prepared for you.? Ok. I get it! Time to get down to business.” He clapped his hands together and began his dream story. “In my dream, my halmeoni (grandmother) Aera Park stood at the kitchen table all four feet and two inches mixing sea salt and water until it dissolved. She then poured it over the Napa cabbage and summoned me over to mix it together with my hands. I wasn't an adult in my dream, but my grandmother had passed when I was 10 years old. She lived with my parents and me and only spoke Korean. My younger brother and sisters were quite young when she left us. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed this strangely suspicious and bulky package covered with brown paper. There were postage stamps from a foreign region. I looked back to see that my grandmother was diligently blending the onion, garlic and mixing the red pepper powder and green onions. I asked her in Korean, ‘did this delivery come from overseas?’ She winked at me and combined the ingredients of spices and aromatics with the cabbage she had placed in a large Mason jar. ‘Open it, aleumdaun sonja yeoll-eo kiva’ she whispered. I blushed at her compliment about my handsomeness and grabbed the package. I opened it gingerly and revealed a genuine Korean kitchen knife. The large knife had been made from the traditions of the region where it was hand forged. It appeared crude, rough but handy as a sharp vegetable knife. He turned it over and over admiring its artistry. ‘It will give a warm rustic touch to any cooking atmosphere.’ It was forged in Anseong, a South Korean city where stone and iron craft artisans worked throughout the region. “When I awakened from my dream, I was empty-handed, but it reinforced my concept of success as a Korean- American.” Now I'm ready to go to culinary school. Moon rushed back and positioned his slim body on the exercise ball. He believed that his American dream would begin today. Afterall, the American Dream can be attained by anyone from anywhere. Just reach for it and its yours. Static from the speaker crackled and then the voice from the speaker chimed in, “Dr. Moon, I’m afraid you began without permission and have not been recorded. You have to retell your dream story. Moon sighed, “the American dream doesn't come by easily. If you fail, remember to try and try and try again.” He laughed and walked again to the center of the group.
By Saja Bo Storm3 years ago in Fiction