This is a true story.
Two nights ago, I had a dream I could fly. I opened my arms wide, pulled the wind toward me and felt my feet lift off the ground. It was glorious. With my engineering-trained mind I quickly sought practical applications.
First, my husband and I went out at night—so the neighbors wouldn’t see—and I picked all of the apples, red and ripe, off the top branches, dropping them one by one into my husband’s waiting hands. Next, I inspected the flat portion of our roof. Never buy a house with a flat roof. We worry about that 10 x 10 section constantly. Then I decided to fly out to Seattle to visit my son. But about three minutes into the flight—I was traveling at approximately 10miles/hour—I realized that Seattle is 3000 miles away. That’s a 300 hour flight.
Hearing a roar overhead, I decided to fly into the clouds and hitch a ride on a passing jumbo jet.
NO!
Those things travel at 600 miles/hour. My head would get blown off.
I suppose even flying has its practical limitations.
In the final image of the dream, I was in the future and my son had a three-year-old daughter. I had volunteered to watch her for the day. As the scene opened, we were gleefully jumping on my son’s bed. Then I taught her to fly. “Open your arms, like this.” I opened my arms, “and pull the wind to yourself.” How quickly she learned.
“Flying is so much fun, Nana.”
When I woke, I immediately understood the dream. I can do the impossible. The choice is mine.
Last night, I had a second dream. I was agitated and rushed. I slipped the car into reverse, stomped down on the accelerator and backed out of the parking space so recklessly that I plowed into the car behind me one row over. Crying and distraught, I called the police and reported the accident. My silver Chevy Malibu—a huge tank of a car with bench seats and a V8—was undamaged. The next morning, again jittery and overwrought by . . . whatever . . . I backed out and hit another car. That night I hit a third vehicle in exactly the same way, this one belonging to Omar, a guide who had been helping me by showing me around town. “You totaled my car!” He grabbed his head in distress. “How am I going to get to work!”
I was taken before a judge.
“I’m so sorry. I was stupid. This is all my fault.”
She took away my driver’s license.
“I don’t know why I did this. I was just so upset and angry.”
I was sentenced to counseling. “You could have hurt someone,” she said. “When I’m satisfied you’re no longer a danger, I’ll give your license back.”
I woke. Immediately, I understood the dream. I am powerful. I can use my power to destroy things and hurt the people I love.
The choice is mine.
My power is my creativity. Most importantly my power is my writing. With my stories I can reveal truth to those who would hide from it. I can comfort the soul of a hurting person. I can unveil oppression. I can say, I understand, and I stand with you. With my stories I give my heart word-wings to fly where I cannot go. And on these wings my readers soar to longed-for futures.
Or I can ravage tender souls with hate and lust and violence.
The choice is mine.
~ Kidd Wadsworth
Kidd’s Stories are in the following anthologies
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I decided to enter the KidLit Chuckle Challenge. I had 200 words to make someone laugh. In addition, I was required to use two of the six writing prompts given. I chose ‘Avocado the Penguin’ and ‘Broccoli.’ My entry is below. The italicized illustration note does count toward the total 200 words.
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My entry won an honorable mention.
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Obsession is my natural state.
As an undergraduate in Electrical Engineering at Texas A&M University, I was required to take a Mechanical Engineering course where we analyzed the forces in a truss.
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I love poetry. I relish language that paints a picture in my head, leaves a song in my heart and gently touches my soul. But how do I incorporate poetic methods into my writing? And more importantly, how do I train my ear?
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Kidd Wadsworth writes to bring to life our magical, fire-breathing world. She believes we are super heroes. It’s time we put on our capes.
Featured Books
CHRISTMAS ON NANTUCKET AND OTHER STORIES
Heartfelt stories with a mix of joy and sadness, love and loss, celebrations of all seasons, and a bit of mystery and magic
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GRAVESIDE REUNION
A chance encounter with a wealthy congressman leads to an unusual proposition…
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THE DAY BAILEY DEVLIN’S HOROSCOPE CAME TRUE
Oh, boy! Oh, Bailey! What are you going to do when Fate decides to have a little fun?
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Hi Kidd, So true about the power of writing. Great post!