The Native American culture holds the belief that the dream catcher is the protector of good dreams.
If you know anything about me or this site, you are well aware of my struggle with nightmares. Over the years, I have tried these beautiful circles of hope and although they haven't worked for me yet, maybe it will for one of you.
I bought this dream catcher from a local vendor specifically for one of these contests, so - do not worry - it has not been tainted with my night horror. It is fresh and it will be given to the first Creepster who correctly guesses the next line to the following music lyric by Gary Wright. (Please leave your answer in the comment section below.)
Dreamweaver, I believe you can get me through the night. Dreamweaver...
Frustrated with horror movie cliche and underwritten characters, I created a short, not-to-be-taken-too-seriously guide on what to do when encountered by evil.
If you haven't seen this album yet -
follow the link below, take a look and heed the warnings.
And you are welcome.
So, last year my local library (yes, they still exist) was having an enormous book sale.
They had books there from every genre of the craft. They had novels that were so heavy it took two hands to hold them; they had art books that were as long as the table they sat upon; there were teeny, tiny novellas on the art of table setting, manuals on mechanics, and pamphlets on crime-watch. There were loads of deserted encyclopedias from years past; once-upon-a-time best-sellers that hadn't aged well at all ; and way too many romance novels for such a small town. But among the rubble I was able to scrounge a couple of books that sought out my attention.
Now, I'm talking books for a quarter here, so when I found a book of one hundred and one poems, I was elated and decided that it was well worth the coinage. (It actually made me a bit sad really, and I'm sure that the greats in the book like Emerson, Wordsworth and Hemingway were crying too.)
When I returned home from that rummage sale, I had carelessly tossed these books onto my already overloaded bookshelves (oh, the meager complaints of a book addict) to collect dust and make friends with other paperbacks and hardbacks that had long been forgotten and yet still on my to-read list.
Recently, I rediscovered this gem (check out the pic below) on a spring cleaning spree of my overloaded bookshelves. I decided to bust it out - finally - and make myself read one poem every morning. It's been working out quite well and the above quote resonated with my own genre and has lingered with me throughout the day.
Thank you, Mr. Bourdillon for the insight.
And thank you to my local library for money well spent.
Such a classic, right?
With its menacing lyrics and Miss Slick's mesmerizing performance, this song is just the right amount of ominous and awesomeness.
And if you won't take my word for it Go ask Alice. I think she'll know.