SoCS — Perchance to Dream

D6CA6094-C6AA-4F89-9117-3225F111F174For this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill, we are asked to write a post using the word “dream.”

I dream every night. In fact, I dream multiple times each night. I know this because I will typically wake up two or three times during the night. I wake up, look at the clock, and realize it’s way too early to get up. I will recall that I was dreaming right before I woke up and sometimes I’ll even remember what I was dreaming about.

There are times, after I wake up like this, that I hope, when I fall back to sleep, the dream will resume. There are other times, though, when I hope the dream won’t continue because it was not a very pleasant dream.

The dream I have right before I wake up for the final time, which is usually between 6:30 and 7:30 in the morning, is often very vivid. I think to myself that I need to remember the dream, but because what woke me, more often than not, is a pressing need to take a leak, I will head to the bathroom, take care of my pressing need, wash my face, and brush my teeth. If I’m lucky, I may be able to remember a few bits and pieces of the dream, but more often, by the time I leave the bathroom, it’s gone…poof!

I really wish someone would develop a technology that could record dreams so that you could view them like you can view TV shows you recorded on your DVR. Wouldn’t that be cool? Although I wouldn’t want my wife to watch a recording of that redhead I dreamed about last night.

Image credit: RondellMelling at

Fandango’s Provocative Question #44

FPQWelcome once again to Fandango’s Provocative Question. Each week I will pose what I think is a provocative question for your consideration. By provocative, I don’t mean a question that will cause annoyance or anger. Nor do I mean a question intended to arouse sexual desire or interest.

What I do mean is a question that is likely to get you to think, to be creative, and to provoke a response. Hopefully a positive response.

You’re probably familiar with this quote from philosopher, essayist, poet, and novelist, George Santayana, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.“ In a 1948 speech to the House of Commons, Winston Churchill changed the quote slightly when he said, “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.“

So, speaking about what you remember about the past or have learned from history, how would you answer this question:

What do you think was (or is) the most significant event in the history of the human race? Please explain.

If you choose to participate, write a post with your response to the question. Once you are done, tag your post with #FPQ and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Or you can simply include a link to your post in the comments.

The issue with pingbacks not showing up seems to have been resolved, but you might check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.

Page 7, Line 5

74611A2E-DD46-4568-B37F-01CAB3EEFF43Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith, has this challenge where she tells you to grab your closest book, turn to a specified page, scroll down to a specified line, and use that line as inspiration for a post. In this case, it’s page 7, line 5.

Since I no longer own any physical books, I decided to use one of the books that I downloaded to the Kindle app on my iPhone. The book I chose was “Tales From the Haunted Wordmith” by Teresa Grabs. You may be familiar with that author. Anyway, here is the fifth line on the 7th page of the Kindle for iPhone edition.

“where her car was parked. In fact, she wasn’t”

Sally couldn’t remember where her car was parked. In fact, she wasn’t able to remember much of anything these days. Not since her doctor adjusted her dosage for the medications she was taking to manage her bipolar disorder.

Her husband told her to get her act together or he’d take the kids and leave her. He called her an unfit mother and said that she was a danger to herself and the children. So she started seeing a shrink about four months ago. He was always tinkering with her meds and she felt kind of like a guinea pig.

But this latest adjustment made her feel numb. Yes, it lowered the frequency and intensity of her manic episodes. And she didn’t get as deeply depressed as she used to. But her mind felt muddled and she didn’t like that. If someone asked her how her day went or even what she had for lunch the day before, she would stare back at them, a blank expression on her face, unable to remember.

And now, standing in the parking lot, she felt like she was missing something, but she couldn’t remember what. Oh wait. Her car. Where was her car?

Sally couldn’t remember where her car was parked. In fact, she wasn’t able to remember much of anything these days.

Twittering Tales — Alone

3F96655B-9FD0-42B5-8EB8-C9ED2B9B7930Jan had been talking to a guy at a local bar. He must have slipped something into her drink because she couldn’t remember how she got here.

As she looked around at the throng of people milling about in the alleyway, she realized that she didn’t know a soul. She felt totally alone.

(280 characters)

Written for Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales prompt. Photo credit: Graehawk at

FFfPP — Big Yellow Taxi

0D00D24A-DF7B-46C2-8968-BCDFFB0AB880Scott woke up alone in his king-sized bed. Fighting to control the hangover that was splitting his head apart, he tried to remember what went down the night before.

He was pretty sure that Kathy was with him when he went to bed. There had been a lot of drinking and shouting and maybe even a slap or two. Open handed, of course. He never would have struck her with a closed first. No matter how much of a bitch she was being.

But he couldn’t remember the specifics, the details. How much had he had to drink? What were they fighting about? Did he really hit her? And where was she now?

He got up, walked into the kitchen, swallowed four Advil tablets, and started brewing a pot of coffee. He began to remember bits and pieces from the night before. And that’s when the lyrics to that Joni Mitchell song began haunting him.

Listening late last night
I heard the screen door slam
And a big yellow taxi
Took my girl away
Now, don’t it always seem to go
That you don’t know what you’ve got
Til it’s gone
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot

(200 words)

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: Kai Pilger pexels-photo-462867 Taxi.