My Dreams by Rachel

MY DREAMS



Water Lilies at Kew Gardens

  In my World I can go any place I want; it’s not always fun even sometimes scary but the thing I enjoy the most is that I can escape to my world when I drift off into the land of sleep. Where is my place you ask?  In My Dreams. A world where you create moving pictures unintentionally, created from your memories. My special place changes every night according to my mood, like when you watch a scary movie at night. You always seem to have nightmares…

For example when I’m angry I always lie in bed waiting, waiting to fall asleep. I can hear the faint repetitive water drops from the tap in the bathroom. Always. Anger hits me in the face, in my dream and I end up waking up with a frown or tears down my cheek. Divorced parent doesn’t make it any easier. No one to talk to. That affects my dream too.

When I’m happy I normally think about the first time I set foot in Kew Gardens, nervously approaching the counter, rain droplets falling on my face.

Reliving that day fills me with happiness and life. Seeing that flashback makes me wake up in a bright mood with a smile all day.

 About my place? It is impossible to have an exact answer, for my Dream is a blur of memories put together. My Dreams always start off with imagination, otherwise how would writers create an amazing book without the help of imagination. I imagine walking down the high peeks of mountains, fresh air filling my nostrils. Or taking a stroll in the park feeling the crimson trunks of trees, their wrinkly branches brushing against my skin. The roaring planes passing by above me, blowing away the delicate petals of the cherry blossom tree. The Cherry Blossom tree in the park that I’ll never forget.

 When I’m relieved or fulfilled with happiness, I can picture the best place in the world. The forest. Crackling twigs as I pass by, the sun seemed to bloom through the trees’ shadows constantly at my back. Water trickles down my spine from the leaf up above me, repetitive sounds of mellow droplets falling onto the floor. When I reach the end of the forest it seems a meadow appears with its picturesque views of flowers, shrubs and bushes of all kind. The fragrance coming from the meadow, succulent and sweet. Golden sun shining into my eyes, then it departed behind the clouds.

 I feel the prickly Canadian thistle, spreading along the path taking over like shadows beyond the sunrise, going on for miles. Radiant flowers from the colour ebony to ivory, aquamarine to bronze. All shapes and sizes, angular or not. I touch navy blue pansies, the delicate petals swaying together with the wind in perfect harmony. Hair in my face I can smell the shampoo I used yesterday. I jump, landing on two feet.

I wake with a jolt, finding myself smothered in softness from the duvet of my bed. It feels like floating on thin air, my plump pillow gone down. I get off