Latin: /'vɒks pɒpjʉliː/ VOICE OF THE PEOPLE

It's Winter and we're Migrating

Exciting web developments are allowing us to migrate to an independent page of the school website within the month.

Monday, March 7, 2011

WRITING COMPETITION: Creative Writing "The Dream Giver"

I spend my time swooping over rooftops, through bedroom windows and down chimney pipes to get to you. I climb slowly towards your head, carefully, with anticipation. Who knows what I will find, if I manage to find anything at all.

Your minds work in mysterious ways, ways that I will never understanding even though they are part of my daily life. Although, i do not think you could say that I am really alive, I would say it is more of an existence. I live an exciting and invigorating existence but an existence all the same. You on the other hand life a full and adventurous life. You wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. You get to eat meals and use the bathroom. "What?" you are probably thinking, "Our lives are much more exciting than that!" But you see when you cannot perform these strange acts, they start to fascinate you.

I am what you call the 'Dream Cather', but I see myself as more of a 'Dream Giver'. I visit you at night to sift through your thoughts until I come to the one which has subconsciously been occupying your mind. I then gently coax it forward into your conscious thoughts, where I let it take on a mind of its own, as it forms a dramatic and fanciful dream. These dreams can range from nightmares to the stuff that daydreams are made of but for me the most rewarding dreams are those that make you smile in your sleep. To see a tickle of a smile creep across your face until it is a fully-fledged grin is something to behold, something I am blessed enough to see often.

I take pride in the fact that I do not get attached to the humans I visit, I do my job and then I leave. That all changed on a dark, starless, Winter's night. I had struggled to get into the man's head because he had obviously not wanted visitors that night. He was trying to shut out the bogeyman. This is the only downfall of my job; I do not get to choose what people dream about and yet I have to watch their pain through the nightmares. This particular man had had a hard life filled with turmoil and now he had found hismelf in an old, rusted warehouse, all alone. his anguish and pain was evident on his face as his nightmares played out in his mind. I sifted though his thoughts, desperately, hoping to find that he had a happy memory to use as his dream, but I could not find one. All I found was despair and turmoil. A pot of mashed up emotions and terrifying experiences!

And I wept. For the first time in my existence I bowed my head and wept. As I looked at that poor man I felt that there was only one thing to do and that one things broke all the rules. I sifted through my bank of memories from people's minds all over the world until I came to one filled with hope and love, and then I did the unthinkable, I planted it in his mind. I put it right there in his dream space and stood back and watched as it flitted across his vision. And then it came, the best part of all, the smile.

I still do not know if that was the right thing to do, if it changed his life for the better or not but all I know is that for the first time, in a long time, he had a moment of calm in the storms of his life.

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