In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Just a Dream.”
A nightmare, three doors, I choose one, and what happens?
Out of the many dreams I have had recently, the one that stayed with me is being on the ambulance, going on a call, one of the supervisor’s is driving the ambulance. Yet in the dream, we show up and then nothing happens. Blackness. Nothing.
For a long time I had the picture of a yellow door tacked up and underneath I had written: what door will I go through today? Some days I would look at it and remind myself of all the things I do do, whether or not I think about them all of the time.
What is behind all of the doors we go through each day?