Dreams


Dreams are funny things, they are.  They make no sense.  People say that some dreams mean something, but I don’t believe them.  Dreams don’t mean anything.  They’re just dreams.  People say that bad dreams are signs of anxiety.  I suppose they are, when they are about what is making you anxious.  My name is Clara and I guess you could classify me as a professional dreamer.  Every night I dream a different dream.  I don’t really get dreams.  I once had a dream that I was on top of the Eiffel Tower, which was swaying like a balloon man you sometimes see outside stores.  There were three chipmunks with me, but I don’t know why.  For some reason, I had sunscreen on my hands, which meant I couldn’t hold onto the tower to keep my balance.  The tower tilted rapidly and I fell and next moment I woke up in my bed.  See what I mean?  Dreams are just so unpredictable.  Another time, when I was six, I dreamt of going to a hotel, where behind some curtains there was a yeti, which I befriended.  At the time, that dream was terrifying, but as it turns out, I got the yeti from a movie.  Anyway, I just love dreams.  They make you believe anything is possible.  I wish that were true sometimes, like when you’re upset and you just want to fly away from everything.  But I don’t know where you get dreams.  Maybe more creative people dream more than others?  But I dunno.  I’m just a kid, not a professional psychologist.

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