As preluded above, I've discovered another wonderful blog that I've added to my list of blogs to share. This one is called "The Call" and it is kept up by sisters/writers Willow Silver and Darrion Marine, and Ammelia Gabriella and Billie Catherine. There they post chapters of the books they are working on and devote pages to the characters introduced, among other things. Definitely take some time to peruse their site. It's intriguing to say the least.
http://willow-the-call.blogspot.com
-Grace
PS: You may have noticed the slight difference in font size. I did this because I've been noticing that it was even hard for me to read the "Normal" lettering on my homepage, and I wondered if it was hard for anyone else. Honestly, though, if I couldn't read the font size on a blog, I probably wouldn't visit it again. Hence the change. Hope it's a bit easier for people.
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dream. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Thursday, November 21, 2013
Thankful for Thursday
Howdy! Today I am thankful for imagination. I know that sounds very new-agey, but seriously, where would we be without it? I love the fact that I can retreat into the recesses of my mind late at night, and tell myself stories until I fall asleep. Sometimes there are narrations that go along with these stories, but most of the time they are spin-offs of books, movies, or television shows. I imagine different scenarios, different characters, characters I would love to portray. It's interesting to imagine the reactions, the dialogue, and the emotions.
I had a dream the other night. I was in the backseat of a small car with my family, and it was 1945, although how I knew this latter fact I could not explain. I suppose it is just one of those instances in a dream where you simply know something, like you know the sky is red for a reason, or that gravity does not affect you when you jump. In my dream, the sky was pale grey but mostly hidden by mocha-colored clouds. We were driving on a bridge very high up, supported by cement beams. And... I knew something... something was going to happen in a moment. From my window I could see over the railing to the dark grey waters below, the crests of the waves turning white and frothy. Someone, my father or my brother, was speaking, when suddenly the car swerved, as if we were trying to avoid hitting something in the middle of the road. I remember this next part quite vaguely, but one thing that stands out is that I was not afraid when the car went over the ledge, plummeting toward the ocean below. The impact did not hurt, surprisingly, and no one was injured, although my mom was a bit rattled. Since the windows had been down, the four of us were able to shimmy out. Now, the next part is cloudy; I don't really recall how it happened, but suffice to say we somehow ended up in this tunnel that descended deep into the water. It led to a kind of submarine, and when we were at the door, someone opened it from the inside and we all went spilling in, water rushing behind us. We were in this large, metal room, and I seriously thought of a submarine, or maybe Nautilus from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, only less pretty, more industrial looking. It was made of dark metal, that was the most prominent detail. There were some people around, up above on a ramp that led to the "dumping area," where we were, or on higher levels with railings. I realized then that people must have been allowed in here all the time, because the ones milling about paid us no mind, although the ones on the ramp showed a little interest. No one came to greet us, but I instantly felt that we were welcome, like this was our home as much as anyone else's. Pulling myself out of the dumping area, I was fascinated with all the portholes and staircases that led to places unknown. Choosing one at random, I ducked in, temporarily forgetting my family but knowing in my heart they would be safe. Inside the door I had chosen, the entire room was pink, and it wasn't an ordinary room. It reminded me of the play areas you see in McDonald's and Chick-fil-a, where you climb one platform after the other in a kind of spiral pattern. But even though the platforms were halfway up the wall, the ceilings were quite low, so I almost had to crawl on my stomach to reach the next one. Everything was carpeted... pink carpet. But it was nice a soft. As I climbed I noticed certain things, like how each platform was almost its own room; some had dressers, others had mirrors and toy chests and closets. I kept climbing. Eventually I stumbled into a much larger room, still decked out in pink walls, but the décor deviated from the color. There was a small bathroom (only a shower occupied the space) and a queen-size bed took up the rest of it. A boy was asleep there, his blankets tangled up in his legs as if he'd been running in his dreams. He woke up when I drew near, and for a moment his eyes widened in panic. They were blue and familiar, golden brown hair tousled carelessly atop an angular face. But when I quickly darted for the next platform, he didn't try and stop me, or cry for help, but merely laid back down, watching until I was out of sight. Suddenly an alarm went off, exactly like what you would hear during WWII if an airstrike were spotted. We had been discovered. That could be the only meaning of the alarm. All around I could hear the panic rising, feet stumbling over each other like an uneven drumroll. As I climbed, I came to another bedroom, this one harboring two sleeping girls. I hated to wake them, but we had been discovered. There was nothing else to do. They awoke pleasantly enough, and regarded the alarm as if it were their mother calling that breakfast was ready. There was a large metal door on the one wall. I opened it and found myself on the ramp overlooking the dumping area. People were scrambling, but for what I could not decipher. The hatch keeping the water out swung open and a flood of water rushed in, carrying on its waves a few bewildered people. I didn't know where my family was, but I knew the Nazis were coming for us; they had somehow discovered our Nautilus.
What would become of the ship and its passengers can only be theorized. My dream ended in the dumping area. But what a dream it was!
I had a dream the other night. I was in the backseat of a small car with my family, and it was 1945, although how I knew this latter fact I could not explain. I suppose it is just one of those instances in a dream where you simply know something, like you know the sky is red for a reason, or that gravity does not affect you when you jump. In my dream, the sky was pale grey but mostly hidden by mocha-colored clouds. We were driving on a bridge very high up, supported by cement beams. And... I knew something... something was going to happen in a moment. From my window I could see over the railing to the dark grey waters below, the crests of the waves turning white and frothy. Someone, my father or my brother, was speaking, when suddenly the car swerved, as if we were trying to avoid hitting something in the middle of the road. I remember this next part quite vaguely, but one thing that stands out is that I was not afraid when the car went over the ledge, plummeting toward the ocean below. The impact did not hurt, surprisingly, and no one was injured, although my mom was a bit rattled. Since the windows had been down, the four of us were able to shimmy out. Now, the next part is cloudy; I don't really recall how it happened, but suffice to say we somehow ended up in this tunnel that descended deep into the water. It led to a kind of submarine, and when we were at the door, someone opened it from the inside and we all went spilling in, water rushing behind us. We were in this large, metal room, and I seriously thought of a submarine, or maybe Nautilus from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, only less pretty, more industrial looking. It was made of dark metal, that was the most prominent detail. There were some people around, up above on a ramp that led to the "dumping area," where we were, or on higher levels with railings. I realized then that people must have been allowed in here all the time, because the ones milling about paid us no mind, although the ones on the ramp showed a little interest. No one came to greet us, but I instantly felt that we were welcome, like this was our home as much as anyone else's. Pulling myself out of the dumping area, I was fascinated with all the portholes and staircases that led to places unknown. Choosing one at random, I ducked in, temporarily forgetting my family but knowing in my heart they would be safe. Inside the door I had chosen, the entire room was pink, and it wasn't an ordinary room. It reminded me of the play areas you see in McDonald's and Chick-fil-a, where you climb one platform after the other in a kind of spiral pattern. But even though the platforms were halfway up the wall, the ceilings were quite low, so I almost had to crawl on my stomach to reach the next one. Everything was carpeted... pink carpet. But it was nice a soft. As I climbed I noticed certain things, like how each platform was almost its own room; some had dressers, others had mirrors and toy chests and closets. I kept climbing. Eventually I stumbled into a much larger room, still decked out in pink walls, but the décor deviated from the color. There was a small bathroom (only a shower occupied the space) and a queen-size bed took up the rest of it. A boy was asleep there, his blankets tangled up in his legs as if he'd been running in his dreams. He woke up when I drew near, and for a moment his eyes widened in panic. They were blue and familiar, golden brown hair tousled carelessly atop an angular face. But when I quickly darted for the next platform, he didn't try and stop me, or cry for help, but merely laid back down, watching until I was out of sight. Suddenly an alarm went off, exactly like what you would hear during WWII if an airstrike were spotted. We had been discovered. That could be the only meaning of the alarm. All around I could hear the panic rising, feet stumbling over each other like an uneven drumroll. As I climbed, I came to another bedroom, this one harboring two sleeping girls. I hated to wake them, but we had been discovered. There was nothing else to do. They awoke pleasantly enough, and regarded the alarm as if it were their mother calling that breakfast was ready. There was a large metal door on the one wall. I opened it and found myself on the ramp overlooking the dumping area. People were scrambling, but for what I could not decipher. The hatch keeping the water out swung open and a flood of water rushed in, carrying on its waves a few bewildered people. I didn't know where my family was, but I knew the Nazis were coming for us; they had somehow discovered our Nautilus.
What would become of the ship and its passengers can only be theorized. My dream ended in the dumping area. But what a dream it was!
Monday, October 21, 2013
Sand Pits and Rabbit Holes
My mind and body feel as if they've fallen into a pit of sand. I move slowly, the sand oppressing every undertaking, and still it's almost as if I have made no progress at all. My eyes hurt from staring at my computer (and really, one should never stare at his or her computer) and right now my curser is blinking because I left my computer on during the night. School follows the sunrise, but not before coffee, thank goodness. I wonder if it will be an easy day tomorrow? I enjoyed the reading for school. We moved on from poetry to fantasy, and we had to read excerpts from "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass". How curious that Lewis Carroll was able to write two entire books out of unpredictable events. I got dizzy reading of Alice's constant change from too tall to too small, and still she left the key on the glass table. Nevertheless, it does not solve my sand-pit predicament. Why does my mind move so sluggishly when the urgency of every next activity is palpable? I don't know. It's like I've been stuck in the "real world" for far too long, and am in great need of some fantastical liberation. Where is a rabbit hole when you need one?
Gotta go. Almost midnight. Good night.
-Grace
Gotta go. Almost midnight. Good night.
-Grace
Friday, October 5, 2012
Calling
Observe a hummingbird. Notice how it darts to and fro, how it's wings are a blur as it tries to stay airborne. Sometimes it feels like my heart beats as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Like now, for instance. Now and the past week or two. There's this euphoria, this elation that I'm not used to. I've heard of the feeling of being able to fly, but I like experiencing it more. My God is so good! His blessings are abundant! I encourage you to think about what you truly want from life. Do you want a successful career or a strong family? Why not both? But how can those things be achieved, except by asking the Lord constantly for guidance, wisdom, strength and courage? I don't mean to sound preachy. It's been a long day and, as I said earlier, I've been in this kind of dreamy state ever since getting word back from Trestle. Still, I don't want anyone to think asking for something like wisdom is selfish. The real test is doing what we are called to do and gaining that wisdom. I truly hope I can be a blessing to others and to my Lord as well.
In the meantime, there are stories buzzing around that are just demanding to be written.
Goodnight.
-Grace
In the meantime, there are stories buzzing around that are just demanding to be written.
Goodnight.
-Grace
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
The Movies. The Books.
Don't you just love watching those movies you grew up with? I just watched the 1953 version of Disney's Peter Pan with my niece, and it was funny how I recalled sitting in front of the TV in my nightgown, totally and completely engrossed in the movie. I'm glad my girl got to watch it. I thought it would maybe stimulate the imagination in her that hopefully never goes away. Because really, who didn't wish they could fly when they were a kid? I hope movies like these, the ones that shaped my childhood and made me dream in color, never go out of style.
Last night I watched The Phantom of the Opera with my mom and dad. Yeah, there's a reason it's one of the most fantastic musicals ever! When he hits that last note in Music of the Night, doesn't it just make you hold your breath? But I think if I had the chance to play any of the characters, it would be Carlotta. She's just hilarious and dramatic. Those always seem like the funniest characters to play.
Have you ever had someone ask if you've read the book of a recent movie adaption? Which do you prefer, reading the book before seeing the movie, or, well, the other way around? I know some parents want their kids to read the books first, books like The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It's a kind of strategy, I suppose, to get them off the computer, but it also seems like an opportunity to dive into a completely different world.... Like Kansas! Paradise, Ohio. Tucson, Smicksburg, Rosewood, San Diego. Middle-Earth, Palancar Valley, Persephone, Sharon (the latter is a place of my own creation ;-) ). Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Ireland, France.
That's one thing I want to do with my stories. I don't just want to take the reader on an adventure; I want to take them on a journey.
-Grace
Last night I watched The Phantom of the Opera with my mom and dad. Yeah, there's a reason it's one of the most fantastic musicals ever! When he hits that last note in Music of the Night, doesn't it just make you hold your breath? But I think if I had the chance to play any of the characters, it would be Carlotta. She's just hilarious and dramatic. Those always seem like the funniest characters to play.
Have you ever had someone ask if you've read the book of a recent movie adaption? Which do you prefer, reading the book before seeing the movie, or, well, the other way around? I know some parents want their kids to read the books first, books like The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. It's a kind of strategy, I suppose, to get them off the computer, but it also seems like an opportunity to dive into a completely different world.... Like Kansas! Paradise, Ohio. Tucson, Smicksburg, Rosewood, San Diego. Middle-Earth, Palancar Valley, Persephone, Sharon (the latter is a place of my own creation ;-) ). Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Ireland, France.
That's one thing I want to do with my stories. I don't just want to take the reader on an adventure; I want to take them on a journey.
-Grace
Thursday, June 21, 2012
The Journey Has Begun
To the wandering eye, my family and friends, and those who Google at 2 a.m., welcome. I invite you to join me as I sail away with dastardly pirates, reclaim the throne of an unknown country, or simply claim sanctuary beneath a shady tree, notebook and pen at the ready. My name is Grace, and what is to follow is the inspiration, information, and hopefully publication of tales which have long since captivated me from the chilled, dewy morning to the darkest hours of the night. I look forward to sharing with you. The journey has begun.
-Grace
-Grace
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