Journal #7

And Ashley began to ponder of Dreaming. Dreams, that extraordinary breathing thing that lives among us all. The warm little man that fluttered among the fish and dove among the flying creatures, he called this home. What need has Dreaming for space, whom would try to contain him? He walks with us everyday. Movement, passion and creation with every step he takes, waiting for someone to stumble upon him. Been walking before men named him and tried to strip him. She was bound to find remains of his clothing along the path she crawled. She was anxious and thrilled too. Austin. He shouldn't have to wait for such a long time. She offered a map but he refused. People never could fully understand the importance of finding their dreams. He would be found as soon as she realized what was important. Dreaming would never cease. That is the expectation. But patrice told her differently, so she believed. And if she hadn't believed she would have seen the ruin of people and their glum faces smearing on others passing. People whom would have traveled once from great lengths to visit, now stay at their distance. They just hid and ignored what had happened, so colorless and blinded. Despair, the unsteady motion of destruction that crowded one's mind.

I tried to match Hurtson's style of writing by using metaphors and things that can be taken in multiple directions depending on peoples' own interpretations. I chose dreaming because like death, there is much controversy. I personified it by saying it breathed and lived among us. I used names in the same places she did also, which doesn't necessarily mean I was following her style in that sense but I thought it just added. It turned into despair at the end because without dreams, things are dark and you obtain this feeling of desperation to find fulfillment and you end up with despair when you don't find what you're looking for.