“I dreamt you were an ax murderer,” I told my mom once. I think I was around eight or nine. She had immigrated to the U.S and began calling me every weekend. She laughed and I could feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. To this day, she still reminded…
Good morning and welcome! Come in and join me for a cup of coffee and a chat.
I opened my eyes and felt my heart leap from my chest as I stared into the foggy abyss. I am acrophobic. Who’s idea is this?
Good Sunday morning! Thank you for joining me for another edition of #weekendcoffeeshare. Come on in and enjoy a cup of instant coffee with me.
This is a dream, it’s got to be. This cannot be real, must be a place created from my imagination.
About two weeks ago, I was asleep in my bed dreaming about something when all of a sudden, my dream transported me to a shopping center
I woke up screaming last night. I checked the time – it was 2:10 am. My end of semester nightmares are starting again. Ugh!
At the end of July, I wrote about a vivid and dramatic dream I had about my mom and I vacationing on an island.
This is Another Story 