My Writer Self in a Dream
How
I describe MY writer-self, how work looks and feels like if I were living the dream?
Well, first I sit on a roll-a-coster, then jump off onto a flower which bobs up and down. I slid off and land on another flower with spider webs tangled around the petals. I manage to slip through the petals and sticky web and jump to a leaf, another leaf joined others in jumping here and there; finally, I fall into a large pond of water. I float, relaxing. The sun shines, people laugh. Then boom the water begins turning around and falling into a funnel, which becomes a long tunnel which twists and turns around and down. I plop out on soft mulch staring at bright lights. Then I hear shouts of joy and hands lift me up, bells rings, and whistles blowing, shout of 'hurray' echo. Balloons are handed to me. I hear, "Great novel!"
I stand thinking writing that story was worth my efforts now time to begin the next.
Well, first I sit on a roll-a-coster, then jump off onto a flower which bobs up and down. I slid off and land on another flower with spider webs tangled around the petals. I manage to slip through the petals and sticky web and jump to a leaf, another leaf joined others in jumping here and there; finally, I fall into a large pond of water. I float, relaxing. The sun shines, people laugh. Then boom the water begins turning around and falling into a funnel, which becomes a long tunnel which twists and turns around and down. I plop out on soft mulch staring at bright lights. Then I hear shouts of joy and hands lift me up, bells rings, and whistles blowing, shout of 'hurray' echo. Balloons are handed to me. I hear, "Great novel!" 
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