Suzette loved to write. Between classes at the university, she liked to take her journal outside and write poems or short stories under a tree while she watched the students interact with each other. Sometimes, she wrote about her dreams, both during her sleep and during the day. She was naturally quiet, and liked instead to watch and listen.
It was a rainy day, and Suzette could not go outside between classes. She considered going to her dorm room, but she didn’t want to be there. So, as she often did during bad weather, she went into a student lounge tucked away in a corner of the Literature department. The lounge was huge, and had a comfy couch and chairs, paneled walls and high ceiling. The room seemed to invite her to dream. As she had hoped, she was the only one there. Suzette settled on the couch and watched the rain fall outside on the trees. She was tired, then drowsy, and then falling asleep with her head down. So she laid out on the couch, her journal tucked under her arm, and let sleep overtake her.
She had a dream. She was sitting on the couch in the lounge, and her journal was in her lap. The journal’s cover sprouted two eyes, and the book opened, like a mouth.
“You used to write in me more often than you do now,” the journal said. The voice was like that of a man’s, low and slightly gruff.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I am just so busy now. My classes are more difficult and the pressure is pretty great,” she said.
“But I’m important, too. Your dreams are important. You aren’t even getting a degree in what you love to do most.”
“Yes, well, my parents said writing will never pay. And they want me to be able to take care of myself. That’s why I chose the major I did.”
“I can accept that. But I will always be here for you. You need me, so don’t forget me.”
“I never will, I couldn’t,” Suzette said, “writing in you brings me happiness.” She smiled and the book stood up on end.
“I contain your dreams so I will cover you with joy, and I will keep you warm at night,” the journal said, and then he grew very large, and covered her up like a blanket. She felt warmth and a deep happiness.

The image is from Getty Images.
The image depicts a green patterned couch with floral embellishments. The couch is in a room with wood flooring and a wood paneled wall with two doors. A woman is lying on the couch; the woman wears purple stockings and green striped flats. Her eyes are closed, and she rests her head on her arm on one of the arms of the sofa. A book or journal is opened and laid across her.
#FFFC
Great story about an intriguing image! I’m thinking it’s a bit autobiographical? Looking back, I wish I had pursued writing instead of engineering, but thoughts of living hand to mouth waiting for the response to queries sorta led me to a more marketable degree 🫤
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You are a great writer, Darryl! I agree it’s okay for us not to be starving artists lol
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And it’s never too late…….
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Very clever take. I find so much warmth and comfort in both reading and writing- I can actually picture it happening.
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Yes, I agree ❤️
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I love to read, more than once did I find myself waking up with an open book on my chest.
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Me, too ☺️
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I really love this Lisa.
We should never give up dreams.
And you know things happen that we never dreamt of either!
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It’s true! Thank you, Maggie ❤️✨❤️
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It is my friend 🌟❤️🌟
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A lovely story Lisa
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Thank you so much! 🙏✨🩷
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You’re most welcome
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Great story, Lisa!
Yvette M Calleiro 🙂
http://yvettemcalleiro.blogspot.com
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Thank you, Yvette! 💫🩵✨
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Lisa, this is lovely. I find it especially resonant, as I stopped doing what I love (writing) for many years. Grateful and blessed that it never left me, it is a faithful companion.❤️
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I am also grateful that your art never left you! Thank you, Melissa ✨🩷✨
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