DreamConcepts

Si votre imagination prend fini et vos rêves commencent ... ……………

Regardant par la fenêtre alors que la pluie tombait. Le vent a fait signe, alors que la musique emplissait la salle, avec les émotions des touches qui les soulevaient. Les larmes ont commencé à bien que les visions floues, sont devenus des souvenirs déformés. Souvenirs qui sont venus avec le vent et ont disparu sous la pluie ...

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Perles d'Asie

Immerger dans un monde pour en faire surface. L'ancienne culture de l'Asie renaît. Alors que le vent fait passer d’une vie à l’autre, un nouveau départ, la vie montre de nouvelles façons de survivre. Une jeune femme, après avoir perdu sa famille, est envoyée vivre avec le plus proche parent. Se retrouver dans un monde différent de celui qu'elle connaissait, une fois plongé dans le monde sous la surface de l'eau. Trouver sa vraie maison. Un endroit était immobile, juste assez longtemps pour qu’elle ait un vrai moment de paix. En lui donnant une chance de perdre la famille. Les courants portent les marées, apportant un amour des deux jeunes avec la tradition. Comprendre des profondeurs aux pics aimer pour la première fois ... …………

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Sharing your thoughts?

par Annette Shaw • 01 juil., 2019
The story (House of the Pouring Rain), is a story that I channeled from deep in my mind. A place that comes to me in my dreams. I know the characters because I am a part of them. Mainly the pianist. A ghost that lives in a shell, a place that is home, yet a recurring stagnation in time. 

House of the Pouring Rain

par Annette Shaw • 06 juin, 2019
Looking out the window as the wind and rain beckoned, the notes, from the keys they left. Filling the air around me. Lifting me from the somber state, were all the emotions welled. Thinking about the moment that it happened. Hearing the wood crack as the bridge gave away. Feeling the suspended slow motion of the car as we slid through the opening, down to the rocky bottom. How the ice cold water entered the car window. Knowing that all the moments were locked in time, somewhere in the cold of winter.  Wanting my dreams, that started the journey from the beginning. The moment I first met him, to the moment we saw the house, out in the country. The first time we drove through the area, seeing the autumn leaves with all the colors, reflecting off the waters edge, put me into a note, I never played before. All the old Victorian homes, gave the town a quaint appeal. It was the old wooden covered bridges, that really made me want to live and make memories, that I would savor.  Tears, started to send burred visions, as the thoughts left. Turning my attention back to the keys on the piano, letting my feelings reach each one, with the emotions I felt. The music was like the wind and rain, it lifted with them, then slowed as they did. Flowing with the emotions, on the winds of the seasons. I knew that if I really stayed focused, that I could call him to me. Hoping that he would feel the beckoning, the longing for him to be home again.  Not understanding why, after we died, that I was bound to the home that we bought after getting married. A home that was perfect, for the life we wanted, with each other. The life that so many dreamed of. One day a moment of happiness the next a shattered window, that could once be looked through, looking into your dreams...…………..  
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