So, for English, we had to write down our dreams that we had in between last Friday and Tuesday, and then we were to analyze them. I had this one. It was purty good … Purty good.
I woke up and rubbed my eyes. Out of my window, I saw fat flakes of snow falling. It’s snowing! I thought excitedly. Finally! I had been wanting it to snow for ages! I rolled out of bed and suddenly found myself in my clothes and downstairs, eating pancakes and getting ready to leave. On the counter was a stack of my New York Times best-selling books. Wait! My New York Times best-selling books? Yes, sitting there, in hard-cover, was a stack of probably about twenty books, with my name, words, and cover-art all over them. I smiled. Next thing I knew, I was snuggled up in my coat, gloves, hat, and scarf in the back of a limo with my Mom across from me and my books in stacks all over the car.
I was on my way to a Christmas Eve noon book-signing. Except, this time, I would be the one signing the books. I looked out the window at the fat flakes falling softly and smiled at the twinkling Christmas lights decorating Spokane. I had been driving for nearly an hour, because I still lived in Valley, in my old house.
By the time we reached the mall, where I was going to set up, sell, and sign books, there was over a foot of snow on the ground. Santa was perched in front of his fire truck on the other side of the lobby, and there were large billboards announcing my arrival—Amy Ellis, the young author. Amy Ellis was my pen name. A rather good one, in my opinion.
Next thing I knew, I was signing book after book and making small talk with all of my devoted readers. They all loved my characters and the world, and wanted to know if there would be a sequel. I told them, with a wink and a flourish on my signature, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Suddenly a group of a cappella Christmas carolers flash-mobbed the mall, and began singing beautiful carols. All of the mall-goers, including myself, stopped what we were doing and listened to the performance. It was beautiful. After it was over, the carolers, all of whom had read my book, came over to my table and bought signed copies.
In a blink I was back home, watching a movie with my family with the glowing Christmas tree in the background and the fire burning at my side.
This is where I woke up to the blaring of my alarm clock and realized that NOTHING IS THAT GOOD.
So, yes. I dream about being a famous author. It’s okay, I’m allowed to have dreams! 🙂