As she was sleeping peacefully through the night, the girl would always wake up screaming. She would always have the same dream every single night since her fourteenth birthday. She was sick and tired of it and didn’t have an idea of what it meant. For all she wanted was for the dream to go away. The dream would always start with her on center stage in one of the most enormous and beautiful places she had ever seen. She noticed how a single ray of light would shine down upon her face. It was very dark, she couldn’t tell how many people were there but she could hear their screams, apparently they were cheering for her. She was the center of attention. She was so happy because this was her lifetime dream, to sing for people, to be very popular, and very famous. Her dream finally came true, and while she was enjoying the excitement she noticed something between the darkness, something very strange and unusual. At that moment it didn’t click because she couldn’t see clearly that the strange thing was near a familiar face, someone she knew. She got caught up in the moment’s excitement that she didn’t pay attention to the strange thing. She took it as nothing important, as if it didn’t matter. The day went on as if it were an ordinary day. She went to school, hanged out with her friends; everything normal, up until that point. Her mom then came and picked her up with her grandma, and that’s when she remembered the familiar face she had seen earlier, it had been her grandma. She remembered about that strange thing she saw and started to wonder what it was, that’s when she saw it again. This time there was light and she could see clearly what it was, and that was when all the tragedy started happening. The most horrible of things ... ... middle of paper ... ...n, the bullet slowly getting closer to her grandma and then passing right through her heart. Blood was everywhere she couldn’t do anything to prevent it, she told her grandma “I’m so sorry grandma!! I knew this was going to happen and I didn’t do anything about it. I have been dreaming about this for a long time. It was like a sign that I didn’t pay attention to.” Her grandma replied, “Don’t worry; this was going to happen sooner or later. Don’t blame yourself for it; it’s not your fault. I love you.” “I love you too grandma,” she said. Then her grandma died. The girl regretted not having been able to save her grandma. Her dream was a sign; it was a warning to allow her to save her. The dream was a signal to try and change things, to prevent them from happening and provoking a tragedy. That girl was me, and that will be a regret I will have for the rest of my life.
conception of her encounters highlight her fixation on a kind of lived fantasy blinding her from
In conclusion, this was an awesome story. The above questions were the catalyst to the real truth that would make the brother to that little girl free at last. His son was determined to break the cycle and remedy this generational condition, although the means by which he used were terrible. But, he would get through to his father. He shed light in the dark place by first beating his father into sobriety, so that he could think clearly. He then helped his father to open up to the discussion concerning the secret he had held on to for so long. Then, he also convinced his father to burn the “Shawl” of his deceased sister. And finally, his father realized what the true story was. A story that would in turn loose the tie that bound them all together with generational sorrows.
She does not hint as to whose dream it is, or what the dream is. This being said the dream could be applied to just about anyone experiencing these same feelings. This is what is so magical about Parker’s poems; they are abundantly relatable. She tells the reader to let go once the dream has died, and in the fourth and fifth lines Parker writes, “Walk not in woe, But, for a little, let your step be slow.” (Poemhunter). In these lines she is telling the reader to not become saddened over the death of their dream, however they should not immediately dispose of that dream and move slowly when forgetting their former dream. She goes on to say in lines six-eight, “be not sweetly wise With words of hope and Spring and tenderer skies. A dream lies dead; and this all mourners know:”(Poemhunter). In these lines Parker warns the reader to not become too foolish with their hope, because their dream is still dead. If you were searching for help with this challenge in your life and read this poem, it may either help you move on or result in an ever more depressed state of mind. The way Parker writes her poetry is very personal which gives her writing style so much more emotion and
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over...
By making subtle changes in the ways dreams are portrayed, she shows us that the boy has been changed by his experiences. Before “the betrayals” the dreams are quite indefinite, relying on incomplete images of pincers, claws and fangs to represent the horror. The lines, “His sidelong violence summoned/ fiends whose mosaic vision saw/ his heart entire” are literal indications of his incapability to comprehend what is happening to him. Then he wakes and attempts to seek comfort from the monstrance. His hopes for a miracle, brought on by his innocence, ...
I had just walked into Annie’s room to find her screaming in pain. I ran to find the supervising nurse and rushed back to comfort Annie. Shortly after, the nurse came, fed Annie her medications, and walked out. Not a word was said. But I knew Annie was afraid, confused, upset; managing deep pain in her body. I knew she did not want to be alone, so I stayed beside her for a while, holding her hand until she fell asleep, telling her she would be okay. ================
It had been a cold, snowy day, just a few days after Thanksgiving. My grandmother became immensely ill and unable to care for herself. We knew she had health problems but her sudden turn for the worst was so unexpected and therefore we weren’t prepared for the decisions that had to be made and the guilt we would feel. Where would grandma live? Would she be taken care of? So many concerns floated around. A solution was finally found and one that was believed to be the best or so we thought.
I saw her walk over to the dressing table. I watched her appear in the circular glass of the mirror looking at me now at the end of a back and forth of mathematical light. I watched her keep on looking at me with her great hot-coal eyes: looking at me while she opened the little box covered with pink mother of pearl. I saw her powder her nose. When she finished, she closed the box, stood up again, and walked over to the lamp once more, saying: "I'm afraid that someone is dreaming about this room and revealing my secrets." And over the flame she held the same long and tremulous hand that she had been warming before sitting down at the mirror. And she said: "You don't feel the cold." And I said to her: "Sometimes." And she said to me: "You must feel it now." And then I understood why I couldn't have been alone in the seat. It was the cold that had been giving me the certainty of my solitude. "Now I feel it," I said. "And it's strange because the night is quiet. Maybe the sheet fell off." She didn't answer. Again she began to move toward the mirror and I turned again in the chair, keeping my back to her.
One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she had never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s houses. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them. Now, she realizes that they went to make funeral arrangements for her grandmother.
...alone, because I was afraid my life would change radically after this, and I was not prepared yet for them to see this change. After a few minutes, I realized I was so weak I could feel the cold reaching my bones, but that was also the best feeling I’d ever had. I was thinking I had only a few weeks left to start college, which had been my dream since I can remember. My dad had already paid for my tuition, I was so exited I had promised to do my best, but I’d just had my daughter, and I was so nervous about being a young mother in college. I tried to open my eyes to admire my baby’s beautiful face and thought I was so brave, because I had decided to have this little girl. When I saw her I knew I would want her to be better than me, she would be my strength, because nothing would ever make me give up on my dreams, and that was another promise I had made to myself.
She seemed to be stuck in time, for example, the only person she could really remember was her husband who passed about 14 years ago, everyday she waited for this man that was never going to come back. I thought that it was unusual because she had only had it for 8 years so I didn’t understand how she couldn’t remember anybody before that. I wanted to be able to comprehend what was happening in her mind.
A dream is the experience of having images, sounds, or other sensations while sleeping. Many dreams come from various activities from throughout the day but some offer symbolic expressions. There is a connection between the conscious and the unconscious that can fill in the gaps of self-knowledge and provide the information needed. Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung have two theories on dreams. Sigmund Freud’s theory was that dreams are an expression of what one is repressing during the time being awake. Carl Jung believed that dreams provide messages about “lost” or “neglected” parts of ourselves that need to be reintegrated. Why do we dream? Dreams are wish fulfillment. They reveal wishes or emotions that one did not realize they had. Dreams help with problem solving because the dreaming mind makes connections more quickly than the waking mind does. It also helps in processing painful emotions with symbolic associations. The brain often associates emotion with a symbol. The model of dreaming is a process more like therapy. People run through ideas and emotions and place them in a broader psychological context. Dreams can have a very big impact on people’s lives.
Nothing gets lost in the transition from childhood dreams to adulthood reality. The Childhood dream world resides with the subconscious stream of images and ideas, and are perpetually modified and refined throughout our lives. This continuance is in accordance with an ever evolving self enlightenment, and includes a strong influence from our interactions with others. That is, the gradual transition from childhood to adulthood is subject to constant internal and external changes, guiding a spiritual journey from the conception to the culmination of our desires. Also, we can define the spiritual journey as the path towards karma, where our deeds actively shape past, present and future experiences. This spiritual journey is not simple and easy, as we may not always remember our dreams, or even understand them. Despite this challenge, some childhood dreams are revisited, and even enabled.
The only dream worth having, I told her, is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you’re dead. “Which means exactly what?” she asked, a little annoyed. I tried to explain, but didn’t do a very good job of it. Sometimes I need to write to think. So I wrote it down for her on a paper napkin. This is what I wrote: To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.1