Free Essays on A Dream Come True

My nights consisted of sweat beads falling down my fore head and fears of drifting back into sleep. I don’t think that my parents really ever understood how frightened I was when I woke up from one. I can specifically tell you how it smelled in some of my dreams, or what I might have been wearing. But every nightmare was the same, a dark bridge I’d fall from into murky rapids underneath. My hands would become clammy when I drove over a bridge. I’d clench onto the steering wheel and pray that I didn’t lose control. I wouldn’t dare change the direction of my eyes; for a single glimpse of the muddy waters below would fire pains to shoot threw my chest. Flashbacks of those thoughts swelled in my throat and the air passing through my lungs would become thinner and thinner. I would never consider myself a wimp. Ever since I could walk I had bruises and band-aids decorated in an assortment of colors on my legs, elbows and arms. I was a tomboy at its best w hen I was young, and still have a tendency to walk away from a game with the most amount of dirt on them. But when it came to a day on the river, I would have rather given a limb than surround myself with its terrifying pressure. It took a lot for me to give in to the invitation, but I decided to finally tag along one Sunday afternoon. I knew as soon as we got there I had overdressed. I had my swimsuit on underneath my wrinkled-free clothes, even though I was hoping a miracle would occur so that it would never saturate in river water. As we got closer to the dock, the sounds of rushing water rocked against the river bank. Just crossing over the walkway into the dock had my heart beating like a hollow drum. My friend’s hands held securely onto my own as I slowly, balanced my way onto the boat. Shocked by its swaying tranquility, I proceeded to find my seat and hold onto dear life, since Russ was known for showing off in his boat. As the day continued the pre-mature sunburn was ... Free Essays on A Dream Come True Free Essays on A Dream Come True My nights consisted of sweat beads falling down my fore head and fears of drifting back into sleep. I don’t think that my parents really ever understood how frightened I was when I woke up from one. I can specifically tell you how it smelled in some of my dreams, or what I might have been wearing. But every nightmare was the same, a dark bridge I’d fall from into murky rapids underneath. My hands would become clammy when I drove over a bridge. I’d clench onto the steering wheel and pray that I didn’t lose control. I wouldn’t dare change the direction of my eyes; for a single glimpse of the muddy waters below would fire pains to shoot threw my chest. Flashbacks of those thoughts swelled in my throat and the air passing through my lungs would become thinner and thinner. I would never consider myself a wimp. Ever since I could walk I had bruises and band-aids decorated in an assortment of colors on my legs, elbows and arms. I was a tomboy at its best w hen I was young, and still have a tendency to walk away from a game with the most amount of dirt on them. But when it came to a day on the river, I would have rather given a limb than surround myself with its terrifying pressure. It took a lot for me to give in to the invitation, but I decided to finally tag along one Sunday afternoon. I knew as soon as we got there I had overdressed. I had my swimsuit on underneath my wrinkled-free clothes, even though I was hoping a miracle would occur so that it would never saturate in river water. As we got closer to the dock, the sounds of rushing water rocked against the river bank. Just crossing over the walkway into the dock had my heart beating like a hollow drum. My friend’s hands held securely onto my own as I slowly, balanced my way onto the boat. Shocked by its swaying tranquility, I proceeded to find my seat and hold onto dear life, since Russ was known for showing off in his boat. As the day continued the pre-mature sunburn was ...