Last night I found out "wear 'em down until they say yes" works on other adults, too. I'm secretly pleased I'm not the only one that gives in after so much harassment, and overtly thrilled that I got what I really wanted.
See, Mama Kat started a Writers Workshop on Wednesdays. She provides the prompt and Mr. Linky and we write away. Coincidentally though, she launched the same Wednesday I launched Wordful Wednesday. I was so bummed, because this is something I wanted to be involved with every week. So I emailed her. And I emailed her. And I told her that I really wanted to participate, but I couldn't until Thursday. And then I took it a step further. I asked for the prompts in advance so I could prepare earlier in the week (see, I am committed to participating) and, I told her how sad it made me that she couldn't participate in my Wordful Wednesday's. And I emailed her some more. And she finally had enough and said, "fine. leave me alone. I'll move to Thursday." But not in those exact words. She was nicer. She probably had other motivators, but I'm going to flatter myself and believe it was all me.
You now know what I'll be doing on Thursdays.
Dare I write one more post about John and how I almost lost him and possibly Jacob too? The prompt, "write about a heart that wouldn't quit" screams John to me. Loudly. But, I think if I tell that story again I'll lose half my readers. So, if you are new and really interested, go here.
Instead I'm going to tell you about the recurring nightmare that haunted my childhood. Literally. My sister can attest to the fact that it terrified me on a regular basis and caused some uncomfortable nights because I would climb into bed with her. And yes, it was a twin sized bed.
I know the nightmare was short, because I can recall every detail, yet when I was sleeping it seemed like it lasted an eternity. It was always the same. Always.
The man that chased me from window to window and door to door always had the same expression on his face and always arrived at the window or door the same time that I did.
He liked to toy with me, and allowed me to shut and lock the window or door before racing to the next one.
I was inside. He was out, and I was feverish in my desire to lock him out permanently. I knew that he could only bring harm.
I ran and ran. My heart worked overtime. Fear alternately paralyzed me and pushed me on.
And then, after I had shut and locked every window (seeing his face in the pane every time) and was at the last door, right before what I knew was going to be my ultimate death, I woke up.
Even knowing the ending in advance never made it less scary.
I haven't had the dream in years. Thank goodness.
I'm pretty sure that I can pinpoint exactly what caused this recurring dream.
Like puzzles? Go here (number 6) and here and here and see if the pieces paint a picture for you, too.
Wanna read more? Go to the hub (as in the site of origination for the Writers Workshops, Mama Kat) and branch out from there.