Hopeful to Cynical_Confession_The Recurring Dreams of Victor Dumoure_Meditative State
Catalog Guide:
Hopeful to Cynical
I'm just a regular person working a pair of jobs that don't quite allow one to live without others paying a share of expenses though I live as if separate from them. I am not antisocial; quite contrary, getting me to shut up has always been the challenge once I get yammering. It wasn't always like this, though, hard as it is to see now, I once had a thing called "hope." For purposes of ascribing a name to me, most call me "Adam." I am 31 years old, and boy, was it ever an interesting three decades or so. The first memory I can recall but whether it was real or not is anyone's guess. The crib b...
Confession
"Hey, Mom, who's this with Dad?" Tommy got up off the kitchen floor, eyes on an unfamiliar photograph, and navigated the maze of cardboard boxes to his aging mother. She sat in the center of the chaos at the table. He flipped the picture over and read the date on the back: January 1st, 1993、 He handed the image to her. "Oh," his mother’s eyes widened behind thick glasses in recognition. "Well?" Tommy studied his mother's face. She had gone elsewhere, transported by the photograph. "Mom, are you all right?" Victoria’s eyes fluttered and she shook her head. "Just someone your father used to wor...
The Recurring Dreams of Victor Dumoure
On an August morning as the sun cast its rays through the window, Victor Dumoure awakened fromwww.onedoor.cc a dream. The handsome and successful singer got up, stretched, and crossed to his favorite chair, a Vintage from the Renaissance period. He sat down and crossed his silk clad legs. I haven’t had a dream like that since I was a young hard rocker, he thought. I was so terrified after that unforgettable performance, that I hired a private investigator to find out if someone had tried to kill me. How cunning my agent and Lenore were, slipping that drug in my drinks. It’s a good thing that since then, I’...
Meditative State
On the other side of the paneling, Laney could hear the low humming sound reverberating through the thin wall: “Ohmmmm.” Quietly, she opened her bedroom door and crept down the hallway, her bare feet tamping down the gummy green shag carpeting. She pressed her ear to the door and then lay down flat on her stomach to see if she could peer underneath.Suddenly, the hum stopped. Her sister’s voice called out sharply: “Laney, I know you’re there!”The younger girl scrambled back down the hallway through her own open door and then quickly closed it behind her. She laid on her bed for a moment and th...