LolaPortman
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- Mar 14, 2011
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This is about half of the first chapter of my book and I would just like some feedback:
Repressed
Chapter 1
In the distance a car alarm can be heard and the smell of cannabis from a near by house wafts past leaving this young mind in a trance of wonderment...a labrador retriever bounces with excitement as a black figure throws what seems to be a stick into the distance, persuading the dog to come into a neighbor’s yard...the black figure comes towards me frantically as if....
My dream ends abruptly as my alarm clock chimes, the one time I didn’t want to be saved by the bell. As I get up I ponder why I have had this strange dream that seems to add on to itself once I close my eyes. I write down the next sequence of events in my dream journal. Yes, I have one of those and no you can not judge me.
Ever since Mr. Epps’ parapsychology lecture on dream clairvoyance in ninth grade I have kept archives of every dream I have had. Now I know some people, ok many people, don’t believe in psychics, but I’m not sure about my opinion on the topic. Mr Epps’ asked the class one day if we thought psychics were real. Of course no one wanted to answer that question because it was obviously a trick question. You know one of those questions that ask for your opinion, but in actuality the teacher wants you to guess their opinion.
In this case Mr. Epps’ opinion was probably any psychic that has acted as a subject in an experiment has been proven to not be psychic. Unfortunately, I was called upon to answer this question.
“Lola, do you believe that psychics exist?”, Mr. Epps asked.
I replied in an condescending tone, “ I believe that everyone born has a purpose in life. Some people are born to teach overly sexed teenagers and others are born to tell the future.”
The class appreciated my snide remark, but Mr. Epps is still eying me with a look of grimace three years later. Three years later, I have realized that I am not psychic. Damn. There goes my dreams of being the next Miss Cleo.
Although this realization came to me two years into my dream journaling, I began having a reoccurring dream three times a week. Each time I had the dream a new detail would be added.
As I look at my cell phone I notice what day it is. Crap, it’s Saturday. I start thinking about this dream I keep having and wondering what it means. Mr. Epps’ lecture did not prepare me for this, nor the exam that I bombed. Laying in bed I begin to clear my mind and soon I begin to fade into darkness until I am no longer me, but something much bigger...
In front of me a looming figure is darting towards me and suddenly my back is pressed against something hard, cold...I notice my voice I gone as I start to scream, something forcing its way in my mouth and as a shiver runs from my toes to the top of my head I realize I am being engulfed by this black fog...fighting makes things worse, light slowly descends into the distance...and I can not awaken myself.
Repressed
Chapter 1
In the distance a car alarm can be heard and the smell of cannabis from a near by house wafts past leaving this young mind in a trance of wonderment...a labrador retriever bounces with excitement as a black figure throws what seems to be a stick into the distance, persuading the dog to come into a neighbor’s yard...the black figure comes towards me frantically as if....
My dream ends abruptly as my alarm clock chimes, the one time I didn’t want to be saved by the bell. As I get up I ponder why I have had this strange dream that seems to add on to itself once I close my eyes. I write down the next sequence of events in my dream journal. Yes, I have one of those and no you can not judge me.
Ever since Mr. Epps’ parapsychology lecture on dream clairvoyance in ninth grade I have kept archives of every dream I have had. Now I know some people, ok many people, don’t believe in psychics, but I’m not sure about my opinion on the topic. Mr Epps’ asked the class one day if we thought psychics were real. Of course no one wanted to answer that question because it was obviously a trick question. You know one of those questions that ask for your opinion, but in actuality the teacher wants you to guess their opinion.
In this case Mr. Epps’ opinion was probably any psychic that has acted as a subject in an experiment has been proven to not be psychic. Unfortunately, I was called upon to answer this question.
“Lola, do you believe that psychics exist?”, Mr. Epps asked.
I replied in an condescending tone, “ I believe that everyone born has a purpose in life. Some people are born to teach overly sexed teenagers and others are born to tell the future.”
The class appreciated my snide remark, but Mr. Epps is still eying me with a look of grimace three years later. Three years later, I have realized that I am not psychic. Damn. There goes my dreams of being the next Miss Cleo.
Although this realization came to me two years into my dream journaling, I began having a reoccurring dream three times a week. Each time I had the dream a new detail would be added.
As I look at my cell phone I notice what day it is. Crap, it’s Saturday. I start thinking about this dream I keep having and wondering what it means. Mr. Epps’ lecture did not prepare me for this, nor the exam that I bombed. Laying in bed I begin to clear my mind and soon I begin to fade into darkness until I am no longer me, but something much bigger...
In front of me a looming figure is darting towards me and suddenly my back is pressed against something hard, cold...I notice my voice I gone as I start to scream, something forcing its way in my mouth and as a shiver runs from my toes to the top of my head I realize I am being engulfed by this black fog...fighting makes things worse, light slowly descends into the distance...and I can not awaken myself.