Showing posts with label Creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Creative writing. Show all posts

Sunday, November 16, 2025

Last Night’s Dream: My Unexpected Pet, The Color Yellow, Spikes and Feathers


Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so utterly personal, that you wake up feeling like you’ve been on a full-blown adventure? That's what happened to me last night. It’s the kind of dream that sticks to your subconscious like glitter, forcing you to wonder about its meaning and frankly, its cinematic potential. It involves a very special boy I named Valo.

I have odd dreams, sometimes the beginning is just me sleeping and eventually seeing everyday stuff or even visiting friends or family that have passed on. Sometimes I feel like I am either time travelling or astral projecting to another realm or just somewhere else than where my body is. I don’t really have nightmares, I used to but they haven’t happened in a long time, not really since I was a kid. So this one began just sort of started with me being at home, not the one I currently live at but something different and it switched over to something that felt like a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. I was simply walking in my yard, near a tree, when I found him: a bright, sunshine-yellow hedgehog. Bear in mind, I am colorblind and yellow is one of the colors on the spectrum that I can’t see but I can only imagine what it is. Anyway, I scooped him up and in that instant, he looked in my eyes and it looked like he was smiling. He snuggled against my hand and he was mine. I named him Valo, because he truly was a little ray of light. He was the happiest boy I have ever met, his little snout twitching.

What made Valo truly unique wasn't just his shocking color, but his unexpected talents. He was an absolute menace on the ground, but he somehow, impossibly, became an aerial acrobat. Valo could climb trees with the agility of a squirrel and he quickly befriended all the birds in the trees. It was a bizarre, beautiful little community we had that he had convinced to come out of hiding high up in the branches and visit with me, not just birds but squirrels and chipmunks. There was only one enemy in our peaceful, arboreal existence: the dark shadows of hawks, who would circle above, their eyes sharp with predatory hunger. I became Valo’s fierce protector, always keeping one eye on the sky. There was also an old owl that kept watch also, he was the only bird who didn’t partake in a physical friendship but it felt like he was with us no matter what.

One cool, quiet night, I took Valo to hang out and look up at the stars because he seemed to love them. He scampered ahead, heading straight for the tallest, gnarliest oak tree in the yard. I watched him climb, a tiny, golden beacon against the dark wood and then he simply disappeared into the canopy. I waited, but he didn't return.

That's where the scene shattered and reformed. Suddenly, I wasn't waiting under the oak tree. I was traveling, deep into what I can only assume was my book signing tour, a reality I hope will happen one day soon. Yet, I wasn't focused on the crowds or the signings. My eyes were glued to the ground and trees, following a curious, almost magical trail of bright yellow feathers. It was like a golden breadcrumb path. I instinctively knew: Valo hadn't just vanished. He had shifted. My hedgehog, my happiest boy, had transformed into a bird, a creature of the sky he seemed to be so close to in the trees. The trail of feathers always seemed to be wherever I found myself, from Pensacola to Los Angeles, from one book event to the next.

The tension in the dream started building and became excruciating because I felt like I was so close to finding him, to reuniting with either the hedgehog or the bird, when my body’s cruel alarm clock (my bladder) woke me up telling me it was time to pee. I was left with the profound, unsettling feeling of an adventure cut short and there was more to Valo than just a hedgehog that transformed into a bird. So the unresolved ending of that dream has been the most frustrating part of my day because I couldn’t figure out the dream’s purpose and wondered what the ending would be so I decided to write about it and use my imagination for possibilities. Here are a few ways my journey with Valo might have ended:

As I reach the final stop of my last book event, someone hands me a yellow feather from a bird the exact same color as Valo as a hedgehog and later the bird and asks me to sign his copy of my book to Valo. My bright, happy hedgehog had fully shifted to something else. He is now a casual, engaging human being, a handsome man who looks like a real life version of my favorite doll from Barbie, a real like version of an Alan doll, with an electric, almost golden energy and a slightly mischievous glint in his eye. He’s standing right behind me and he simply says, "Finally caught up, Adrian. Thank you for taking care of me as a baby and never giving up on finding me. Now that I found you, are you ready for that date?" Valo became my boyfriend, a totally unique and wonderful person and the adventure had just begun.

I find the bird, not realizing he's not Valo, but another bird I named Tails, a nod to that other famous yellow hedgehog's flying friend. Valo, as the yellow bird, has flown on, having served his purpose to show me that I too, can achieve a new level of personal freedom and overcome my "hawks" (my personal fears and anxieties). He didn't need to be caught; he needed to be free.

The trail of feathers leads me not to a creature, but to a pristine, yellow quill pen sitting on a velvet pillow. Valo wasn't meant to be kept, but to be a catalyst. The entire book signing tour was the real-world manifestation of the dream's core message: The adventure is the writing, and Valo, in his final form, has become my enduring muse, a permanent companion in my creative process.

Now I'm left with the lingering memory of a yellow hedgehog who could climb trees and a trail of feathers that led me across an imagined world. The dream felt like a gift, a story from my subconscious. What do you think happened to Valo? Did he become a person, a muse or is he still flying, a little yellow bird just out of sight?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and interpretations in the comments below. Every perspective helps me understand this surreal little journey!

And if you enjoyed this glimpse into my dream world and would like to support more of these stories (or maybe help fund a trip to the nearest pet store to look for a real, slightly-less-magical Valo), you can always show your appreciation. Your readership is the greatest gift, but any small contribution toward my next creative project is incredibly kind and always welcome. Thank you for reading!



Friday, January 17, 2025

Confessions of a Tabloid Enthusiast: Crafting Fantastical Stories


I've always loved fantasy stories and things that are too good to be true. My life reads a lot like that, but it's totally true. So, it should come as no surprise that I love tabloids. Not the celeb news though—I’m not a Perez Hilton, National Enquirer, or Star fan. I couldn't care less if Britney’s snatch is blue, Lady Gaga fired her crew, or they found Michael Jackson’s nose in Bubble’s poo. I don’t know those people, and I’m not interested in their drama. I don’t read much in terms of newspapers or watch the news unless something important is going on in the world that I need to be informed about, and even then, I somehow know what’s going on. Tabloids are just so much more fun to read anyway.

Give me Bat Boy or stories of a 500-pound infant and his mom who’s a mere 97 pounds. I don’t mind GLOBE or National Examiner—they feature stories of real people along with a little bit of celeb fluff. My favorite was Weekly World News, but the only thing that remained in print similar to WWN is the SUN and it's no longer printed wither. WWN is online now, but it’s just not the same as when I was a kid. When I was younger, I’d secretly ride my bike down to the Jr. Food Store, where other kids spent their money on candy, sodas, Slush Puppies, and bags of potato chips, while I spent mine on the Weekly World News and a cheap Faygo Root Beer. It would take me a week to read the stories in the paper completely and then a day or so to reskim it and enjoy the advertisements.

Did I care if the stories were made up? Nope. I loved that part of them. There was something magical about headlines like "Woman’s Breast Implants Explode Thanks to Low Flying 747." Did I believe it? At the time, yes. And even now, I’m sure there was some truth to some of the stories. The point of a tabloid is to go into them knowing there is a requirement to suspend your disbelief. You can’t deny the entertainment value in stories with headlines like "Grossed Out Surgeon Vomits in Patient" or "North Korean Sub Probing US Lake: Is Kim Jong Il Poised to Attack?"

Silly purchases? Definitely. Waste of money? ABSOLUTELY NOT!

During a period in my life, I even became a content provider for a tabloid paper. It was an incredible experience to let my imagination run wild and create the most random, outlandish stories. There was something so satisfying about concocting tales that were just on the edge of believability, playing with the fine line between reality and fantasy. I loved the process of making up these stories, knowing they would entertain and astonish readers, just as the Weekly World News had done for me as a kid. It was a dream come true to contribute to the world of tabloid journalism, even if it was just for a while.

What about you? Do you have any favorite tabloid stories or memories of reading them? Have you ever worked on something similarly creative and whimsical? I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories in the comments below!

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