I wanted to write a little intro to this story and explain why it is the way it is—but first, and intro to the intro: When Rachelle asked me to write as a guest blogger for her blog, I had absolutely no idea what to write about—trust me, my life is not as interesting as Rachelle’s, nor am I as charismatic as she is, but at some point she suggested that I could write a short story, something that I have done before and that I enjoy doing. So short story it was…Now, short stories are always weird, but I think this one is a little more bizarre, and that’s because it is based off a recurring dream I had a few years ago. The bizarreness is not so much the content in it, but the form itself. There are a lot of shifts and abrupt transitions like real dreams. The idea of writing a story based on a dream is not that original—I think Stephanie Meyers said she based her books off a dream she had, and G-d forbid this is anything like Twilight—but the reason I chose to write a story like this is based on the idea that some of our dreams really tell a story of our lives, of what we’ve been through, or what we are currently going through at the time. Now I say SOME dreams, the dream you had dream of playing tennis with a giraffe in someone else’s body could just be random brain scrambling, but I’m talking about those peculiar dreams, the recurring ones, the ones that you still remember—the fear, the love, and the sorrow you felt in those dreams are as real as the memories you have of reality; those are the dreams I am talking about. These dreams are our stories, making us all storytellers in one way or another, and like all stories, whether or not it was the author’s intent, they mean something; they speak on the human condition that we all share. I believe others have had this dream, have written this story, but only with a different pen. So, by writing this, it is not my main intent to try and write an entertaining story, but instead to put a small part of my humanity on paper in its rawest form: the dream.