Tag: Dreams

Book Review: The Night the Scary Beasties Popped Out of My Head

When Dan is woken up by a horrible racket inside his head, he decides to draw his nightmares. If he can erase the nightmares they won’t bother him anymore, but unfortunately things don’t quite work out that way. Dan is in for quite a wild night when the nightmares escape and begin drawing on their own.

This is such an adorable book! The author’s five year old son illustrated the story with true childhood imagination, making the magic pencil in the story come to life on the page. This book is a recent acquisition to our personal library, and has already become quite the favorite.

Going to the Circus

Let’s go to the circus, Leo! I want to see the elephants dance, don’t you? And the pretty ladies on the big swings! Those are my favorite. I ‘m gonna be one of those pretty ladies when I’m big. Cause I like to swing, too! Don’t you like to swing, Leo? Maybe tomorrow you can swing with me.

Maybe they’ll let you be in the circus. I bet you’d be the best lion they ever had. Don’t be scared of the guy with the big black rope that makes loud noises. He won’t hurt you. He just has to make everybody think he will. You just roar and wave and we’ll all clap real hard.

Do you think there’ll be clowns? I’m kinda scared of those. They smile weird. They do make fun balloons, though, and I like those. Maybe, if you hold my hand really tight, I won’t be scared when a clown gives me one.

Can you see the big tent yet, Leo? We’ve been walking a long time and I’m tired. I thought we’d get there faster, didn’t you? I’m hungry, too. I bet Mommy has some animal crackers. Let’s go home and have some. Then all the animals can be in our own circus! Won’t that be fun, Leo? Come on, let’s run!

Book Review: Hattie and the Wild Waves

Hattie loves to make pictures. While her brother and sister play cards with the maids and torment the nannies, Hattie draws. While the family mixes with society at the seashore, Hattie walks the beaches alone and paints. While her sister gets married and her brother becomes a businessman, Hattie paints.

Hattie can’t play beautiful music on the piano like Mama. She can’t sew beautiful needlework like her sister. Even her hair won’t curl properly. But she can draw barges that Papa says are seaworthy, and she can paint the wild waves.

Hattie is every child with a dream. As readers walk Hattie’s journey with her and her family, they will unconsciously learn lessons of self-awareness, hard work, and never giving up. Although set in the early twentieth century, the appeal of this story is timeless and it’s message always relevant.

The Healer’s Daughter

FB_IMG_1592766229369It was her favorite spot, a tiny gem hidden at the base of a cliff where almost no one went. No one except herself. Her mother had shown it to her when she was just a little girl, barely old enough to be trusted on the narrow path down. It was the secret of her mother’s success as a healer; the herbs and fungi that grew down here were especially potent.

Now her mother could no longer safely walk the path, and the task of harvesting was hers alone. It was the one time a week that she could be completely alone, far away from expectations and women’s chatter. The only sound was the soft fall of the water into the pool, and the light which filtered through the heavy canopy turned leaves luminescent and created glittering jewels in the spray.

That she would be a healer was unquestioned. Thanks to her mother she knew every remedy and could find the best and rarest. Her mother’s secret recipes had long been committed to memory. She had no quarrel with her destiny; it was, after all, a much freer life than that of the girls sent to the matchmaker by the time they were of age. And as village healer she was by law protected from a fate far worse, the fate of those who caught the eye of the nobility. She had seen them, their white painted faces devoid of expression above their opulent robes. No feeling or identity could remain in that life; such would destroy a girl more surely than the demands made of her.

No, fortune smiled upon her, and not even the basket heavy with living treasure against her shoulders could make her sorry. She must put other wishes from her mind and thank the ancestors for smiling upon her. But she could not prevent his face from appearing in her mind one more time.

Dreamcaught

FB_IMG_1590687224460She flew above the world, reveling in the wind that buffeted her. She didn’t know how, she only knew she was. The river tossed her against the rocks; her head hurt and water filled her lungs. “Hush, dear, don’t cry,” her mother soothed, stroking her hair. “Everything will be alright, you’ll see.” She buried her head in Mother’s lap, breathing the scent of lemon and fennel lingering on her clothes. The hands stroking her hair turned to claws that raked her skull and back, drawing screams of pain and betrayal from her aching throat. She ran, the breath ragged in her lungs, her muscles seizing and tripping her. She could feel the beast’s breath on her neck and fell, strength gone, waiting for its jaws to close on her throat. Her mother’s hands picked her up and she flew.