| CONGRATULATIONS TO THE WINNER OF THE 'DREAM A REALITY' CONTEST |
WINNER
Brendan Akita, San Jose, California
I remember it well. The cold diversity that arose from sweat and dew, drops that cease to exist should surely undergo resurrection here, to form a flake of
bitterness, a fear that resides and festers within all of us. The pressure grew so immense that the gaskets could not retain their cylindrical shape, like a
crumbling pillar that supports a fragile world, but still, not all hope is lost. A reign of tears and bloodied curtains spreads like contagion in an ant farm and gives
birth to a new rhythm; an apocalyptic era is born. Confusion strikes the sane, the insane feast upon the weak, and the tears and blood wrought from the
victims soak, drench, sully, hammer the soil upon which they lay their eyes, ears, intestines...dreams of power, of corruption, of happiness; everything ends in a
glorious awakening, a revolutionary awakening, salvation begins. The bliss that millions of minds cultivate through lack of imagination and ignorance become a
part of an ancient, antiquated reality that is all but legendary, so far from Truth and so immaculate that even Lies must take a seat below Guilt. Salvation
ensues the revolt of Nature, Wrath refutes and uplifts the blows of sorrow and the dyes that calcify the ground in eruptions of flesh and grime, muck, and bile
that soar and paint the buildings in waste, transmogrifying the sky breakers into monoliths of life and hate. FREEDOM! By monoliths that cast all matter
asunder,
where quanta and universes are severed by absolute frailty;
from flesh to cells to DNA to atoms to electrons to matter to…
Fragility envelops and shatters the world. The world implodes and contracts and contorts into queer shapes, into triangles, into spheres, into surfaces and
planes. A dimension sans color or unity is produced and individuality achieves salvation of everything, if only for a moment, should time exist, to survive.
…Nothing ensues.
Everything survives.
The journey never sustains abeyance; there are light years and millenniums to wander before anything exists to sleep, or to breath, or to congregate, or to
divide. The magnitude at which the new dimension changes is vast and may take forever for granted, to enter meaning again, to take advantage of nothing, to
enjoy the silence and beauty of Celestia, to juxtapose absolute entropy and peculiar serenity. Waxing and waning of the dimension occurs and intense
crumpling produces a sharp, deafening sound, like a mountain undergoing demolition by a torrent of lightning. Tremulous pieces of dimension scatter eons
apart from their original brood, transmogrifying and transforming according to whatever hindrances they encounter through space. Volume begins to fluctuate
and releases great amounts of heat and energy, of brightness and of darkness, of void and of matter, amplifying the speed and altering the trajectories of
anything in their paths, until fortune settles them into a comfortable position.
Meaning may evolve soon, and prompt nothing to ignite everything once again, except this time, absolute freedom may lie beyond the bounds and limits of a
Dream.
Brendan Akita, San Jose, California
I remember it well. The cold diversity that arose from sweat and dew, drops that cease to exist should surely undergo resurrection here, to form a flake of
bitterness, a fear that resides and festers within all of us. The pressure grew so immense that the gaskets could not retain their cylindrical shape, like a
crumbling pillar that supports a fragile world, but still, not all hope is lost. A reign of tears and bloodied curtains spreads like contagion in an ant farm and gives
birth to a new rhythm; an apocalyptic era is born. Confusion strikes the sane, the insane feast upon the weak, and the tears and blood wrought from the
victims soak, drench, sully, hammer the soil upon which they lay their eyes, ears, intestines...dreams of power, of corruption, of happiness; everything ends in a
glorious awakening, a revolutionary awakening, salvation begins. The bliss that millions of minds cultivate through lack of imagination and ignorance become a
part of an ancient, antiquated reality that is all but legendary, so far from Truth and so immaculate that even Lies must take a seat below Guilt. Salvation
ensues the revolt of Nature, Wrath refutes and uplifts the blows of sorrow and the dyes that calcify the ground in eruptions of flesh and grime, muck, and bile
that soar and paint the buildings in waste, transmogrifying the sky breakers into monoliths of life and hate. FREEDOM! By monoliths that cast all matter
asunder,
where quanta and universes are severed by absolute frailty;
from flesh to cells to DNA to atoms to electrons to matter to…
Fragility envelops and shatters the world. The world implodes and contracts and contorts into queer shapes, into triangles, into spheres, into surfaces and
planes. A dimension sans color or unity is produced and individuality achieves salvation of everything, if only for a moment, should time exist, to survive.
…Nothing ensues.
Everything survives.
The journey never sustains abeyance; there are light years and millenniums to wander before anything exists to sleep, or to breath, or to congregate, or to
divide. The magnitude at which the new dimension changes is vast and may take forever for granted, to enter meaning again, to take advantage of nothing, to
enjoy the silence and beauty of Celestia, to juxtapose absolute entropy and peculiar serenity. Waxing and waning of the dimension occurs and intense
crumpling produces a sharp, deafening sound, like a mountain undergoing demolition by a torrent of lightning. Tremulous pieces of dimension scatter eons
apart from their original brood, transmogrifying and transforming according to whatever hindrances they encounter through space. Volume begins to fluctuate
and releases great amounts of heat and energy, of brightness and of darkness, of void and of matter, amplifying the speed and altering the trajectories of
anything in their paths, until fortune settles them into a comfortable position.
Meaning may evolve soon, and prompt nothing to ignite everything once again, except this time, absolute freedom may lie beyond the bounds and limits of a
Dream.
RUNNERS UP
Matt Sullivan, Berkeley, California
I awake with a syrupy substance clinging to my face, my hair is matted down across my cheek, sticky. My vision is blurry. I can
make out a blue public mailbox, a street light flickering and a concerned couple leaning over me asking me something desperately
important. I can’t make my eyes focus. I can see the woman has long dark hair and wears a blue dress, but other than that the
people are faceless blurs, as if they were normal people who’s colors began to melt in the rain. The mailbox swells with the beat of
my pulse in my cranium. I fell down a staircase. I remember now. A staircase with snakes at the top, squirming and slithering over
each other in a great ball of twisting, cold, scaly muscle. I had stepped backwards, realizing my error when I felt nothing below my
heel but air. But my weight had already been committed; now I lay confused on the concrete at nighttime covered in something
sticky. The couple keeps asking me something. It’s really important. I can see that they want to touch me but are afraid. Am I hurt
that bad? They’re probably asking me if I’m alright. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I say. But wait. Am I okay? Am I qualified to say that right
now? I can’t even get my eyes to focus; I’m covered in something sticky. I hope they don’t believe me. I want to throw up.
The woman reaches out to touch me. She caresses my head, wiping the hair sticking to my cheek. Mom, it’s my mom! The man is
gone, but honestly he never mattered anyway. My mom is concerned, she’s scooping me up. This makes no sense. My mom
wouldn’t do that. She’d stand over me. She’d ask me if I were okay. Even if it were obvious. She wouldn’t wipe my head, she wouldn’
t scoop me up. The snakes don’t make sense either. Shit, I’m dreaming! If I’m dreaming then I’m God! I can make anything happen.
My head is still pounding, I still can’t see. Why can’t I see? I’m God here! I strain to focus my eyes. Everything stays blurry. Can I at
least turn this sexual? I will the woman to do something sexual to me, to entice me, to seduce me, to pleasure me. Is this weird? I
know she’s not my mother anymore. She holds me. Now she’s confused. She’s like a mannequin, a robot with not enough
programming. I’m telling her to execute something she’s never been taught. She reminds me of a dog, like I’m telling her “sit” but all
she can do is look eagerly and confusedly at my finger pointing at the ground. I feel bad. She’s a sad creature. So eager to please
but can’t figure out what I want from her. All I want now is for her to be happy. I feel bad. My head pounds. Rhythmically. Like a
drum beat played backwards. Whump whump whump. I wake up. My head feels like a concrete slab. I’m totally sick.
Kimberly Satterfield, Emeryville, California
Sliding Through
Who knew dream
tending would begin at the movies
Return Of Adolescence -
too thin, too shy, too much.
Demetri star of
my longing. my Universe.
meteor shower shattering
awkwardness
why are you hovering?
What piece of me
are you haunting?
Your body still young and tight
your smile wide enough to swallow me
after thirty years.
You are not alone
a light skinned woman,
two small girls with braids
ask you questions
that you avoid.
The movie theater
is emptying
my chair has slipped
out of its slot
and is moving toward you
I am embarrassed
when you recognize me
sliding by in a brokedown seat
past your curious eyes.
In the parking lot
You ask me for directions
Follow me it’s too complicated to explain
I lose you at the second intersection.
To the right:
a well lit speed bump laden street
To the left:
a steep dark straight away.
I fly left.
Jerlo Serquina, San Jose, California
M a e r d
Day-in, day-out, the day starts anew.
Remembering the time with old friends, that embarrassing and silly fads we shared. Now, confusing or not, rethinking about
what the heck to do with life. Just hoping for the best in an inevitable, unpredictable
future.
Exhilarating was this feeling when wishes come true. Exhausting it turns into vice versa.
Awe as this turns into a deep dark secret, the one that should never be found out.
Mysterious this is becoming. Being chased by a monster? Being a role model for children the next? But then I see it
somewhere in the background, so close yet still blurry, the thing that might lead me
somewhere. My mind goes blank — till we meet again, maybe — I wake up to another day.
Jeff Barrington, San Jose, California
Six Strings
I'm there, in the darkness. I wait. I can't feel a thing. My legs are numb, my arms are numb, my head is numb. I'm cold. Chills run up
and down my spine. I'm still waiting. The only movement comes from within. It lacks rhythm, it lacks power. My heart, my heart is
beating. Fear reaches inside my heart and steals its rhythm. I can't move, I can't speak, I can't think. I'm standing in there in a
conscious sleep as my dream begins.
The darkness is chased away by light, blinding, powerful, warm. The warmth brings life to me, flooding into me through my skin and
into my veins. My heart regains its rhythm; adrenaline has freed it now from fear's grasp. Thumping, pounding, racing, my rhythm
grows stronger. Feeling comes back to my legs. I can feel the hollow floor beneath my feet, echoing silently as I tap my foot with
the beat to come. Feeling comes back to my arms. I can feel the cold steel underneath my fingertips. Six of them, strung side by
side, like soldiers ready to do battle with the silence, vibrate in concert with my heart. I can feel the flexible plastic in my other hand,
ready to command the humming steel. Feeling comes back to my head. I become aware of it now, the voice in my ears.
The voice does not whisper to me, it does not speak to me. The voice deafens me, roaring with the power of not one, not one-
hundred, but ten-thousand souls pouring into the air. Ten-thousand hearts beat together in unity. Ten-thousand voices unite as
one, calling to me. My lips quiver as my chest rises, collecting the power to answer. Muted with anticipation, the world is silent as
my lips meet with the cold steel mesh erected before me. Once again the only sound is my heart and the fear begins to take hold.
This time it's different. This time I have the power to fight. My fingertips grip the strung steel in preparation. My hand holds firm the
pillar that will carry my voice to ten-thousand souls. It's time to share the dream.
Are you ready to rock?
Daniel Mai, San Jose, California
Flying is Freedom
My dream has finally come true; I’ve finally left this place that I call home
I soar through the sky, feeling the wind rapping against my face
The air runs through my hair, through my clothes, sliding across my skin
So this is what it feels like to be on top of the world
I can’t stop glancing at the sun, knowing that that’s where she lives,
And where our eyes will never meet
I’ve learned from Icarus’s mistake, I won’t get too close to the sun.
The earth grows smaller than a speck of grain as I ascend to the heavens,
What is this light I see, shimmering so brilliantly in the distance?
So bright that I must shield my eyes,
Yet so beautiful I can’t seem to stop myself from coming closer
Is it her that I see, flying so gracefully ahead of me?
I flutter my wings with all my strength to be by her side
The sun beats against my face, hammering its rays against my very body
Cover your eyes, you’ll be there soon
Look at what your greed has done
You fall faster to the earth than you came
How foolish of you not to heed Daedalus’s warning to his son
Now your dream of becoming free is nothing
But a light in the distance that you’ve once sought
Buu Lieou, San Jose, California
Dream comes and goes. One end as the other start
Or maybe they come all at once, conflicting one other.
I had have many dream
I dreamed of myself falling into the water
Falling down the mountain
Falling out of an airplane
Reality
I fell out of my bunk bed.
Dream about my family and friends
Randomly dream
Being chase by unknown stranger, creature, snake, lizard, shark
Fire and bomb, school bus
Death; mine and of others
Dream to be rich, to be a successful person.
I dream to be a photographer, a traveler and to fly to many places, a flight attendance
All at once
I met my “Mr. Right” while being a flight attendance.
Dress in my uniform, I wear my hair nicely tied back into a bun,
A navy blue cap with golden logo in the center front
Navy blue and gold suit with a golden trim on the collar, sleeve, and down the center topcoat, on the bottom of the skirt
Wearing a white blouse inside, black heels
Walking with my suitcase trailing behind
Ready to take off
Please put on you safety belt. Enjoy your flight.
Pushing a cart down the aisles
Severing drinks and food
How can I help you, would you like to have drinks?
I had
Have many dreams.
The second before I wake up from my dream
I told myself to remember what I had dreamed.
Woke up
What did I dreamed about?
What a weird dream!
I dream about dreaming,
Sometime trap
Unable to escape
Matt Sullivan, Berkeley, California
I awake with a syrupy substance clinging to my face, my hair is matted down across my cheek, sticky. My vision is blurry. I can
make out a blue public mailbox, a street light flickering and a concerned couple leaning over me asking me something desperately
important. I can’t make my eyes focus. I can see the woman has long dark hair and wears a blue dress, but other than that the
people are faceless blurs, as if they were normal people who’s colors began to melt in the rain. The mailbox swells with the beat of
my pulse in my cranium. I fell down a staircase. I remember now. A staircase with snakes at the top, squirming and slithering over
each other in a great ball of twisting, cold, scaly muscle. I had stepped backwards, realizing my error when I felt nothing below my
heel but air. But my weight had already been committed; now I lay confused on the concrete at nighttime covered in something
sticky. The couple keeps asking me something. It’s really important. I can see that they want to touch me but are afraid. Am I hurt
that bad? They’re probably asking me if I’m alright. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I say. But wait. Am I okay? Am I qualified to say that right
now? I can’t even get my eyes to focus; I’m covered in something sticky. I hope they don’t believe me. I want to throw up.
The woman reaches out to touch me. She caresses my head, wiping the hair sticking to my cheek. Mom, it’s my mom! The man is
gone, but honestly he never mattered anyway. My mom is concerned, she’s scooping me up. This makes no sense. My mom
wouldn’t do that. She’d stand over me. She’d ask me if I were okay. Even if it were obvious. She wouldn’t wipe my head, she wouldn’
t scoop me up. The snakes don’t make sense either. Shit, I’m dreaming! If I’m dreaming then I’m God! I can make anything happen.
My head is still pounding, I still can’t see. Why can’t I see? I’m God here! I strain to focus my eyes. Everything stays blurry. Can I at
least turn this sexual? I will the woman to do something sexual to me, to entice me, to seduce me, to pleasure me. Is this weird? I
know she’s not my mother anymore. She holds me. Now she’s confused. She’s like a mannequin, a robot with not enough
programming. I’m telling her to execute something she’s never been taught. She reminds me of a dog, like I’m telling her “sit” but all
she can do is look eagerly and confusedly at my finger pointing at the ground. I feel bad. She’s a sad creature. So eager to please
but can’t figure out what I want from her. All I want now is for her to be happy. I feel bad. My head pounds. Rhythmically. Like a
drum beat played backwards. Whump whump whump. I wake up. My head feels like a concrete slab. I’m totally sick.
Kimberly Satterfield, Emeryville, California
Sliding Through
Who knew dream
tending would begin at the movies
Return Of Adolescence -
too thin, too shy, too much.
Demetri star of
my longing. my Universe.
meteor shower shattering
awkwardness
why are you hovering?
What piece of me
are you haunting?
Your body still young and tight
your smile wide enough to swallow me
after thirty years.
You are not alone
a light skinned woman,
two small girls with braids
ask you questions
that you avoid.
The movie theater
is emptying
my chair has slipped
out of its slot
and is moving toward you
I am embarrassed
when you recognize me
sliding by in a brokedown seat
past your curious eyes.
In the parking lot
You ask me for directions
Follow me it’s too complicated to explain
I lose you at the second intersection.
To the right:
a well lit speed bump laden street
To the left:
a steep dark straight away.
I fly left.
Jerlo Serquina, San Jose, California
M a e r d
Day-in, day-out, the day starts anew.
Remembering the time with old friends, that embarrassing and silly fads we shared. Now, confusing or not, rethinking about
what the heck to do with life. Just hoping for the best in an inevitable, unpredictable
future.
Exhilarating was this feeling when wishes come true. Exhausting it turns into vice versa.
Awe as this turns into a deep dark secret, the one that should never be found out.
Mysterious this is becoming. Being chased by a monster? Being a role model for children the next? But then I see it
somewhere in the background, so close yet still blurry, the thing that might lead me
somewhere. My mind goes blank — till we meet again, maybe — I wake up to another day.
Jeff Barrington, San Jose, California
Six Strings
I'm there, in the darkness. I wait. I can't feel a thing. My legs are numb, my arms are numb, my head is numb. I'm cold. Chills run up
and down my spine. I'm still waiting. The only movement comes from within. It lacks rhythm, it lacks power. My heart, my heart is
beating. Fear reaches inside my heart and steals its rhythm. I can't move, I can't speak, I can't think. I'm standing in there in a
conscious sleep as my dream begins.
The darkness is chased away by light, blinding, powerful, warm. The warmth brings life to me, flooding into me through my skin and
into my veins. My heart regains its rhythm; adrenaline has freed it now from fear's grasp. Thumping, pounding, racing, my rhythm
grows stronger. Feeling comes back to my legs. I can feel the hollow floor beneath my feet, echoing silently as I tap my foot with
the beat to come. Feeling comes back to my arms. I can feel the cold steel underneath my fingertips. Six of them, strung side by
side, like soldiers ready to do battle with the silence, vibrate in concert with my heart. I can feel the flexible plastic in my other hand,
ready to command the humming steel. Feeling comes back to my head. I become aware of it now, the voice in my ears.
The voice does not whisper to me, it does not speak to me. The voice deafens me, roaring with the power of not one, not one-
hundred, but ten-thousand souls pouring into the air. Ten-thousand hearts beat together in unity. Ten-thousand voices unite as
one, calling to me. My lips quiver as my chest rises, collecting the power to answer. Muted with anticipation, the world is silent as
my lips meet with the cold steel mesh erected before me. Once again the only sound is my heart and the fear begins to take hold.
This time it's different. This time I have the power to fight. My fingertips grip the strung steel in preparation. My hand holds firm the
pillar that will carry my voice to ten-thousand souls. It's time to share the dream.
Are you ready to rock?
Daniel Mai, San Jose, California
Flying is Freedom
My dream has finally come true; I’ve finally left this place that I call home
I soar through the sky, feeling the wind rapping against my face
The air runs through my hair, through my clothes, sliding across my skin
So this is what it feels like to be on top of the world
I can’t stop glancing at the sun, knowing that that’s where she lives,
And where our eyes will never meet
I’ve learned from Icarus’s mistake, I won’t get too close to the sun.
The earth grows smaller than a speck of grain as I ascend to the heavens,
What is this light I see, shimmering so brilliantly in the distance?
So bright that I must shield my eyes,
Yet so beautiful I can’t seem to stop myself from coming closer
Is it her that I see, flying so gracefully ahead of me?
I flutter my wings with all my strength to be by her side
The sun beats against my face, hammering its rays against my very body
Cover your eyes, you’ll be there soon
Look at what your greed has done
You fall faster to the earth than you came
How foolish of you not to heed Daedalus’s warning to his son
Now your dream of becoming free is nothing
But a light in the distance that you’ve once sought
Buu Lieou, San Jose, California
Dream comes and goes. One end as the other start
Or maybe they come all at once, conflicting one other.
I had have many dream
I dreamed of myself falling into the water
Falling down the mountain
Falling out of an airplane
Reality
I fell out of my bunk bed.
Dream about my family and friends
Randomly dream
Being chase by unknown stranger, creature, snake, lizard, shark
Fire and bomb, school bus
Death; mine and of others
Dream to be rich, to be a successful person.
I dream to be a photographer, a traveler and to fly to many places, a flight attendance
All at once
I met my “Mr. Right” while being a flight attendance.
Dress in my uniform, I wear my hair nicely tied back into a bun,
A navy blue cap with golden logo in the center front
Navy blue and gold suit with a golden trim on the collar, sleeve, and down the center topcoat, on the bottom of the skirt
Wearing a white blouse inside, black heels
Walking with my suitcase trailing behind
Ready to take off
Please put on you safety belt. Enjoy your flight.
Pushing a cart down the aisles
Severing drinks and food
How can I help you, would you like to have drinks?
I had
Have many dreams.
The second before I wake up from my dream
I told myself to remember what I had dreamed.
Woke up
What did I dreamed about?
What a weird dream!
I dream about dreaming,
Sometime trap
Unable to escape
All text and images Copyright © Kelly Lydick, 2007-present.. All posted winners entires copyrighted by their respective
authors. Entries and works my not be re-printed without written consent from the authors. Images may not be re-printed or
re-used without expressed written permission.
authors. Entries and works my not be re-printed without written consent from the authors. Images may not be re-printed or
re-used without expressed written permission.
Door Prize Winner
Amanda Tull, Schaumburg, Illinois
I was 15 when my Grandma Cooper passed away. We had moved her from Clearwater, Florida, to an assisted living facility in
Elgin, Illinois, where she lived for the last 5 months of her life. My dad and I would go over during the week to see her and she
would stay with us on the weekends. I was too young to understand what old age can do to the mind and body. I kept my
distance from her because she was ‘different’. She wasn’t the same grandma that I knew before.
My dream took place two weeks after the 13th anniversary of her death. I don’t recall ever dreaming about her.
It was bright; I wasn't sure if there was an artificial light, or if it was the sun behind her. I had to squint to see her. I was
apologizing to her for not being around more when we moved her up here. She put her arm around my shoulders and then
gave me hug. She said it was okay and that she was okay. She said she understood and that I was around as much as I
could be. Then I woke up.
I didn’t know I was harboring guilt for that time. Thank you Grandma for relieving me of that feeling and letting me know that
you are okay. Hopefully it won’t be another 13 years before you visit me again.
Amanda Tull, Schaumburg, Illinois
I was 15 when my Grandma Cooper passed away. We had moved her from Clearwater, Florida, to an assisted living facility in
Elgin, Illinois, where she lived for the last 5 months of her life. My dad and I would go over during the week to see her and she
would stay with us on the weekends. I was too young to understand what old age can do to the mind and body. I kept my
distance from her because she was ‘different’. She wasn’t the same grandma that I knew before.
My dream took place two weeks after the 13th anniversary of her death. I don’t recall ever dreaming about her.
It was bright; I wasn't sure if there was an artificial light, or if it was the sun behind her. I had to squint to see her. I was
apologizing to her for not being around more when we moved her up here. She put her arm around my shoulders and then
gave me hug. She said it was okay and that she was okay. She said she understood and that I was around as much as I
could be. Then I woke up.
I didn’t know I was harboring guilt for that time. Thank you Grandma for relieving me of that feeling and letting me know that
you are okay. Hopefully it won’t be another 13 years before you visit me again.
| Thank you again to everyone who submitted their 'Dream' or 'Reality' to the contest. It was a difficult deliberation, as there were so many quality entries to choose from. |
| With special thanks to Jasan Fujii of Fremont, California and Tom Heilemann of Bartlett, Illinois. |
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