Sunday, August 5, 2007


I remember when I was around 5 years old waking up to a nightmare. My birthday had just passed and I had received my very first skipping rope. I was proud of that thing. It had a counter in the handle, which helped me keep track of how well (or poorly) I jumped.

My dream started with me skipping rope in front of my house. Suddenly two “bad men” were coming towards me. They wanted my skipping rope! So I started to run and they followed me. I ran into a little garden shed (with the most beautiful rocks for a floor) to hide. The men suddenly opened the door and stepped into the shed with me.

I thought they would grab my skipping rope and run. So I hid it behind my back. We all just stood there in the small shed. They stood like statues and I pretended not to notice them. I just looked down at the beautiful rocks wondering how long I would have to stand there.

Then I woke up.

It’s funny that this dream made such an in pact on me. Maybe because it was the first dream that felt so real…even after I woke up. I thought a lot about it even weeks later.

I don't think I dream any more...why is that? Or maybe I still dream, but I don't remember them when I wake up.

I used to have some fun (and sometimes bizarre) dreams.

I miss that.

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