Take me into your dreams.

When writers write we want to draw the readers into our world, show them the wonder and splendour of it. As readers, we yearn to be dragged into the world within the book, to lose ourselves in its pages. Have you ever read a book without being truly conscious of turning the pages?

This is a writing exercise, anyone can join in.

In 200 words, or less, please take me into your dream.

I don’t want you to tell me about your dream, I want to be sucked in and experience a dream with you. Take me by the hand and show me what’s happening, set the scene, share the action.

It could be a real dream you’ve actually had, and often that works best, or you can make something up. But, seriously, actual dreams are weird enough and you know how you felt while dreaming them, make me feel it too.

But, and this is really important, DO NOT tell me what it means! Half the fun is analysing it later and maybe we’ll do that in the comments.


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15 thoughts on “Take me into your dreams.

  1. KT Golightly

    I wake with a start and turn to look for you. I find your eyes only to discover you looking at me with an odd expression in your pale eyes. Your expression changes when we lock eyes.

    “Where are we?” you ask but your lips never move. For some reason, this does not seem at all out of the ordinary to me. We turn in unison to look down a long dimly lit hallway of some sort. Glowing torches are set at the entrance of the hall. Wisps of smoky mist obscure the view more than a few feet.

    Our eyes fixed on that hallway, we rise as one unit. Using an odd floating and shuffling gait, we move toward the hall. The damp and musty air hits us as we shuffle along.

    Although we continue to make walking motions, we do not seem to move any closer to our destination. We don’t find this frustrating, though, we are tiring of the difficult and awkward gait we are using. I sag against you and you stumble slightly under my weight.

    You are not able to fully recover from the stumble. It turns into a fall as you bring us to our knees on the cold cobblestones.

      1. KT Golightly

        Thank you for your kind words.

        Did it “take you into the dream” as you asked of the writers of this exercise?

  2. Isobel

    Of the 4 responses so far, only one has actually taken me with them into the dream, the others have sown us what the dream was like, but didn’t take me with them.
    I can watch what’s happening but from a distance, I’m not there in the middle of what’s happening.

    How would we change that?

  3. Sinead MacDughlas

    The hills are a carpet of green, gold and violet. Fields of grain in the vales, rippling in the breeze, shimmer golden in the sunlight. The heat pulls at my skin, drawing at my very essence. The light wind makes the cloth I wear, and my hair, ripple like the grain. The cloth is just linen, wound toga-like around me. The zephyr, a cool caress across my bared shoulders, a lover’s touch, soothes me.
    I’m walking a well-worn trail up the side of a hill. I know I’ve never been here, yet my bare feet know every stone. Familiar scents: freshly turned earth, the tang of new growth, the perfume of wildflowers, and the pungent sweep of wood smoke. The sky is cloudless. Sparrows sing, wheel and dive above, unconcerned by the raptors drifting in slow, shadowy circles higher.
    I don’t know where I’m going, but it is imperative that I continue. Turning back, even looking behind me is not an option. Up is the only direction. The hill ends in a precipice, the path sustained right to the edge. I don’t break stride. My feet carry me over. My heart stops as I wait to fall…and I float.

  4. Catrina

    There is a noise outside my door, but not a knock. More someone coming up the steps. I peek out the window in my bedroom to see the back of someone. Anxiety grips me immediately and I search the house for my children. Both lay resting upon pillows in their rooms. Neither aware of the exterior activities, nor my own concerns.

    I hear my heart in my ears as I walk carefully to the front window, and stealthily peek out again. What I see only scares me more. Shadows. Unidentifiable shadows. Finally they knock. I don’t answer. They knock again but I’m frozen in fear. My children do not come, so they are safe, but the knocking persists. I stand, suddenly in front of the door instead of the window, terrified of what’s on the other side. My mind races over the safety of my children, of our home….

    And then I wake again.. IDK if that’s 200 words,should have double checked but should be about right.

  5. Roger

    The train stops and I step out, looking down at my PDA/cell phone/whatever – I’m always looking down when I get off the train.
    I look up to see that the trees are now over 150 feet tall and there are no buildings in site. I turn around and the train is gone. Then the fun begins. I find a path made of gold that comes to a intersection that gives me a choice of where to go next. Left is always adventurous, Right is always quirky – think going down the rabbit hole, and straight ahead is always about the loss of someone important to me. I try to never go straight, but my subconscious feels like I need it sometimes, I prefer to go right where the trees can be your worst enemy or your best friend, that goes for anything in that realm – keeps you on your toes. Whenever I go left, I am always cast as the hero and always come out on top and get the beautiful damsel in distress, I find it to be boring.

    Not sure if that was what you were looking for, but it is difficult to remember more that something vague, especially in less than 200 words.

  6. Sarah

    I’ll play! Only 200 words, Isobel? Sheesh, I could ramble for hours…..
    Here’s mine:

    I reach out and take your hand and we walk through the desolation. The dusty earth beneath our feet sheds clouds, coating our boots as we stride between the buildings, your hand warm in mine.
    There are lights in the windows, flickering against the grey and shadows of people who can only be seen once I point them out to you. The wind is tugging at us, should be biting cold but it isn’t. We are warm as long as we hold to each other. All is muffled and we don’t speak. The only sound is the wind that blows away all as we pass. The buildings, houses, shadows, even the road on which we walk, all gone within a few paces. Vanished as soon as we’ve walked upon it, walked past it.
    You’re half a step behind as I lead you into the unknown, trusting that I know the way.
    I don’t.
    I have no idea where we are.
    Walking through the dream.

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