Site icon The Literary World of Sylvia Hubbard

#2: What Writer’s Dream About… Or #JustMe #SylLit – #WritersLife

Want to read another one of my dream posts? click here

I always have the most amazing dreams. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a writer and I have an overactive imagination or because my brain needs my hyperactive body to get some sleep and it has to wow me to keep me in REM in order to get things done.

Either way, when I decide to dream – or get some actual sleep, I go into these dream status wishing I had a bowl of popcorn.

I have mastered dreaming to the point where I can wake up from a dream, go to the bathroom and come back to bed to continue dreaming.



My mother, younger daughter, JD and my oldest daughter Mag arrive at this like superstore. We get separated and my mother, JD and I end up at the counter checking out.

I called Mag on the cell phone, but I get pushed to voicemail.

I’m looking around at the checkout just waiting for Mag to burst from the crowd. I start to feel anxiety because she should be here by this time.

We check out and for some reason go right across the street and check in to a seedy motel. I can see the superstore from the 2nd-floor balcony where my room was.

I”m starting to get really frustrated. I keep asking JD to call her sister, but even she’s getting no answer.

I can feel the store about to close so I go back across the street and demand they shout for Mag across the microphone. I’m told no one is in the store and I need to go. I demand they do so. The manager fuddles up her name but he does this. After a moment when no one comes, I tell them to search for her. I run through every corner of the store screaming for Mag and knowing deep in my heart someone has kidnapped her.

I go back across the street and call the police, but after I dialed the number a woman started moaning about how she needed the police. I try this two more times and by the third time I get the police and not some old woman.

I don’t’ remember giving them my location. I just said my daughters missing.

I feel it’s hours later and the police still haven’t arrived. My mother is telling me everything is going to be okay, but I know in my hearts of hearts it not going to be okay. Mag will be hurt and unrepairable. I have to protect her. I scream and cry.

The police still didn’t show up. I dialed them again and got the old lady again. I hang up and try again. Get the old lady.

I’m having a panic attack.

I wake up

This one felt real; even after waking up an hour later as I write this, I still feel the anxiety.


In my book Dreams of Reality, I talk about Skye having really real dreams

Want to read another one of my dream posts? click here

Exit mobile version