Dream Journal my dream:
The museum stood solitary on the desert plateau, its ancient walls bearing the weight of untold stories. I walked through the courtyard, feeling the crunch of sand beneath my shoes, and entered the dimly lit rooms, each filled with artifacts that whispered secrets from the past.
It was my second visit that day, a strange compulsion drawing me back. As I strolled through the exhibits, I overheard a conversation that sent a a chill down my spine. The museum, it seemed, was on the brink of closure, having earned a mere $120. The announcement hung in the air like a ghostly echo.
Leaving the museum behind, I found myself at a bank with glass doors that revealed a sprawling forest outside. It was then that I noticed a tall, thin, mangy wolf standing just beyond the glass. I fumbled for my phone to capture the strange sight, but to my dismay, the device refused to cooperate. When I mentioned the wolf to others, they dismissed it as a mere dog, oblivious to the eerie presence outside.
Returning to my hotel, the mystery deepened. The room, with its twin beds separated by an end table, held an unexpected surprise. A woman hung on the wall like a macabre piece of art. Disturbed, I accused her of making me harm her.
As I sat on my bed, contemplating the surreal scene, droplets of water began to fall on my head. I glanced outside and witnessed a violent confrontation between two groups of men. They seemed like characters from a film, all with shadows clinging to their motives. One man knelt, seemingly destined for a tragic end.
Driven by an impulse to intervene, I rushed outside, only to find chaos erupting. Seeking refuge, I climbed into a boxcar of a passing train. In the adjacent car, tension simmered as the occupants eyed me with suspicion. Desperate to avoid trouble, I turned to the man next to me and pleaded, "Tell them I'm your daughter's friend." but then said "Oh but she's just like me."
The world outside the train car blurred as the wheels clacked along the tracks. The mystery enveloped me, each fragment of the day weaving a tapestry of bizarre events. The thin line between reality and illusion began to blur, leaving me questioning the nature of the museum, the wolf, the woman on the wall, and the unfolding drama in the desert night.
This story originated in the realm of my dreams
Deedee Jebrail
