I am already beginning to forget the dreams from last night; one was like the ending of an episode or a movie.
“Light it, blow it out, and tap the golden cylinder three times,” replied the female child.
“In the next three seconds, to grant him eternal rest, which was more than life ever gave to Dana Plato,” said the villainess.
I was there, watching; the door to the secret chamber was not closing fast enough; the boy from Jurassic Park had magically become a golden phoenix, which looked like Terrorsaur from Beast Wars, and bit down on my right shoulder which is sore.
In the second dream, I would not let myself hear what my mother was saying because I could not get around how she could be living. There is to be pizza tonight at our team meeting.