She packed her bag and stashed
Her dreams into the
Locket
That held them
In the past.
She shut the door
And sighed.
She must
Return to what she’d left
Behind.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Return in 31 words
Dreams
Hallowed Sleep
(Photo: Amitai Asif)
She didn’t know that where they lived was sacred. She thought all places of sleep were.
“When the body rests, the soul may travel,” her grandfather taught. “The dark makes space for dreams to manifest.”
She never doubted this referred to sleep of various lengths.
Hers, which ended when she woke. Others’, who slept on.
The catacombs were home.
To her.
To them.
One day her grandfather did not wake.
His voice now traveled in her dreams.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: catacomb in 77 words
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River Run
She could not sleep for the excitement.
A dream come true. A lifelong prayer answered.
She lost count of the times they’d gone without, made do with little. They saved. They scrounged. They worked. They sought. They searched. They found.
Only to be turned down. Back onto the merry-go-round.
It was not for sale. It was too old. It was rotten. It was tied up in legal battles. It was too large. Too steeply priced. Too small.
She almost lost hope.
Then this. Beat up and needing some work. Their Goldilocks perfection.
He didn’t want to sell. His late wife’s boat. Her family’s name. Nope.
They begged. They pleaded. They tried to explain.
Finally … he relented. Perhaps they wore him down.
They drew the contract. Argued. Fretted. Signed.
The boat was theirs.
“You must rename her,” he stressed, pen in hand.
Of course.
Tomorrow it will become her River Run.
For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
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Embers Of Dreams
Photo: Pablo Martinez on Unsplash
Blow gently into the embers
Of
Your dreams.
So the quiet flames
Of what you’d always wished
And perhaps did not know how
To do
Can lick them into hope
Anew.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Anew in 31 words
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Slivers Of Dreams
Photo: Marina Shatskih on Unsplash
All those dreams that he had
As a child
Snug
Under covers
At night,
His tattered teddy
In arms.
His dreams
Parsed out
Into slivers
When
Under stars
At war,
His battered rifle
The only thing
He could
Hug.
For Linda Hill’s SoCS prompt: Dream
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Life’s Cliff
Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein
Until you manage to get
Past the jagged edges
Of life’s cliff,
You’ll dream of rivers
Soothing through
The valleys
Of What If.
Till then you’ll hold on
To old anchors
That keep you
Safe from doom,
And luxuriate only
In dreams of
Rappelling out
Of your fear’s womb.
For the Word of the Day Challenge: Jagged
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In Twilight
Photo: A. Asif
In twilight we live.
In twilight we love.
In edges of morning
And evening
We strive
To become
What we hoped
We could master
As we have
Let the sun
Roll itself into
Night and
Rise the moon
To the dreams
We sleep of.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Twilight in 44 words
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Their Dream
In his dreams he sees a mansion, flanked by rows of old-growth trees, fenced by sturdy brickwork, gated by imposing wrought iron spiked by gold.
In his dreams, he sees a driveway that spells out the expectation of his wealth. He envisions sprawling gardens, floors of endless rooms, and lavish halls, and a multi-car abode.
In his dreams he sees the pools, the tennis courts, the deck, the dock, the boat.
In her dreams she sees a cottage on the edge of forest, amidst the rolling meadows heading into dunes and shore.
In her dreams she sees the cozy rooms, the closeness of the furnishing, the softness of the rugs upon the cool slates of the floor.
And when he shares his dreams and scoffs at hers and tells her that she dreams “far too small,” she knows that their shared one won’t go where they’d thought it would, before.
For the Crimsons Creative Challenge
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Be The Judge
Photo: Dvora Freedman
“You’ll be the judge of it,” he said.
He held the door for her and she hesitated a moment before slipping into the passenger seat. She buckled in part out of habit and part as security against the anticipated whiplash of yet another disappointment.
He drove in silence and she was grateful for it. They were beyond words by now, anyhow.
Roadside scenery shimmered by through a sudden squall.
“We’re here,” he said.
She must’ve fallen asleep.
“Say yes, and I’ll sign the papers,” he breathed.
She blinked. How did he find her dream house?
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Judge in 95 words
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Wonder On
Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev
May we never stop to wonder.
May we never lose a dream.
May the image in our spirit
Find its way into our realm.
May the fairies that can flutter
In our younger, fresher soul,
Move forth awe and harvest marvel
To grow us closer to our whole.
For The Daily Post
Na'ama Yehuda 
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