What are Dreams made of?

I am taking this year, Six Weeks, Six Senses by Sarah Seckley. Here is my post, please remember that I am learning grammar more and more. If you have any thoughts feel free to share them.

The Assignment was: Sight

Photo credit: Fares Nimri on Unsplash

“What are dreams made of?” I asked my mother, as she sat down at the kitchen table, finally prepared to eat her own meal.

“Are they a wish of the mind?” I continue to ponder aloud. My mother sitting and being my subject as I speak.

“Or, could they possibly have meaning?” I ask once more. Glancing down at my pancakes I stare off at the well-decorated home.

“Why are you bringing this all up, Seraphina?”

“Simple, I need to know what my dreams mean. If one sees a tiny zebra, standing in a dusty plain. Does that mean I am wishing to see one, or could it possibly mean something else?” I bring the questions up, not truly seeking answers, but releasing my wondering ways.

My mind was fully aware of the dreams I had. Last night was the zebra, it stood there, ever so peaceful. It was in a dusty plain, the colours of beige and amber, it was all over the place, my head filled with images of the place. Different point-of-views it took me on. But what did it mean?


Photo credit: Geremi Gascon on Unsplash

Have I been to such a land? The smell of dust and dirt filled my nostrils, inhaling it into my lungs. The rocks, so big, taller than I can look beyond. I wanted to climb them. Looking down, I see I have protective white modern shoes. The rough wild beast as my mother called me, wanted to be free. To feel the earth in between my toes.

As I had to climb the rock, to see what was behind it, I do. 

Only to see the zebra once more. Closer this time, as if I can reach it. My feet carry me closer and closer and as I do. It shrinks.

The zebra I thought mighty and big, owner of the plain, was nothing. Nothing but a tiny, child’s plastic toy. 

As I relayed the information to my mother, I am brought back from the adventure of my dreams. She sighs and shakes her head in my direction.

Photo credit: Vale Zmeykov on Unsplash

“Heaven knows child. Now finish your breakfast before your journaling assignment.” I look out the window and see my normal, American world. The houses across the street, people walking past them wearing backpacks, some on bikes with helmets. One woman walking her little grey dog. 

This world seems so plain, compared to my Zebra in the plains. 

I guess I will never know, what dreams are made of?

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