My Dream Notebook

I used to have a dream notebook. Each dream gets a written account, a colorful drawing, a list of key elements, the element’s equivalent meanings from dream dictionaries, and a short passage where I’d explain my overall interpretation. Sometimes I would read these entries again so that I can see if any of my predictions came true.

My dreams when I was a child were pretty dark. I used to dream of monsters. I didn’t understand why I’d have such nightmares. My tolerance for spooky stuff was very low that’s why I never watched scary movies, scary tv shows, or read scary books. I never understood why anyone would want to watch something terrifying. I mean, why would you go out of your way, waste your time, and pay for something that will haunt you in your sleep?

My mom would blame Charmed, or CSI, or Alias for my nightmares. She thought those were already really scary stuff, and that I shouldn’t be watching them. Now I know where I got my low tolerance for scary stuff.

Up to now I still love watching tv shows and movies about crimes and witches. I am ok with thrillers. What I can’t stand is supernatural scary stuff like ghosts. I can only tolerate ghosts stuff if the other characters have powers like they’re witches, but if they are ordinary humans, I’m scared to death.

Strings and The Fates

As a child my other recurring dream involved strings. There were several strings around me, and I remember I would sometimes get a glimpse of a spinning wheel. I couldn’t see myself. Everything around me was black except for the white strings. I could only see my hand, which was holding a pair of scissors. I would try to cut the strings with the scissors, but the strings would remain uncut. When I grew up I learned about The Fates and that if they cut someone’s string of life, then that person would die. What did those dreams mean then? Was I a suicidal kid?

I did have a happy childhood. I had my cousins to play with. I had lots of toys. There were things I loved: writing, singing, and drawing. I felt loved. But somehow I felt lonely. I was an only child, and I remember lots of times when I would be playing alone with my dollies. In my baby voice, I liked screaming “I want to die,” but I don’t think I really understood what dying meant.

More Weird Kid Stories:

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Note: For some entries in this blog, a few names and details have been deliberately and willingly changed by the author. This is a personal decision made by the author for specific reasons known to her and is not an endorsement for censorship.


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