Thursday, November 4, 2010

NaNoWriMo #2

Farrell rolled over and looked at his alarm clock: 2:43 am. For the life of him he couldn’t sleep, his mind was racing and yet his body was exhausted from working through the entire day making presentations for the firm’s last quarter sales. His dog, Radley, a golden retriever, lay lazily next to him and moaned as Farrell hopped out of bed and into the shower.  Quarterly sales were down, and the firm had him working overtime in hopes that the problem would be resolved by some sort of epiphany that would never come.
The hot water washed over his body and Farrell began to think of the obscure dream that had ultimately been the reason for his waking up this early. It had been awhile since Farrell remembered any dream, but this one was so vivid he could not get the images out of his head. Lines of a massive amount of people, all in rows, ahead and behind him. It seemed like he was in the middle of a revolt against some sort of authority, but he couldn’t tell. In the distance was a man on a hill leading the way toward a white city; they were in a valley. Behind him was a man looking on, outside of the revolt. The man looked lonely, and out of place, like a new kid coming to a new school with no friends; he stood out even in the distance.  The man leading them was empowered, courageous, and convincing; you couldn’t help but follow, but yet you felt sorry for the man behind, some sort of remorse filled your heart and mind.
Farrell didn’t dwell on this dream much, he had much more important things to worry about, and as the shower took a cold turn he turned off the water, got out of the shower revived and refreshed, and dried off his body. Radley was still in bed when he got back, and Farrell pulled up the covers, lay down, and put his arm around his dog and stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t help but wonder if this dream of any importance. He thought not, but something about this dream seemed so real, that he felt as if he couldn’t avoid it or deny that it occurred.  The scenario seemed disastrous, invading a white city, trying to overthrow some authority that was plaguing the country; then again it was just a dream.

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