The Ghost Writer (4)

Yes, yes I know it has been a while, but that’s alright. You can always go back and read the last three installments. (Found under the category Fictional Thoughts)



Casidi didn’t want to fall asleep. The dream would come back, it would end up written up on her typewriter, and things would just be weirder.

She called Dean up.

“Baby it’s two in the morning. Don’t we have church tomorrow?” He answered.

“Yeah, but I can’t sleep. This dream thing is really weirding me out.”

“It’s only been two nights.”

“Well, yeah, a recurring dream is one thing. A recurring dream that ends up on my typewriter the next morning, complete with editing? That’s something else entirely. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Then put away your typewriter. You can’t type anything up if it’s put away.”

“Oh… that’s a good idea.”

“Get some sleep, beautiful. Coffee before church?”

“It’s a date, handsome.”

“Ok. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Casidi felt her body relax. Nothing beat hearing her man say those words.


Dean hung up and Casidi set to putting away her typewriter. It went in it’s case in the closet across the room. She pulled the sliding door closed and promptly fell asleep.


She and Dean were in a car. But his name wasn’t Dean here. It was Charlie.

“Where are we?”

“On our way to San Antonio. That’s where the answers are.”

“That’s hundreds of miles away.” Dream Casidi went with the bizarre scenario, hoping it would make more sense.

“Not anymore. We’ve been on the road for three hours. We’re getting close.”

“Dean did you do this?” Casidi gestured to her bandaged side.

Dean/Charlie glanced over. “No, you did that. We stopped at a gas station remember? And stop calling me Dean. I don’t know who this Dean guy is, but there better not be anything going on with you and him.” He looked rather put out.

“Sorry. I’m still light-headed from… blood loss.”

Charlie’s face softened. “Does it hurt baby?”

Casidi focused on her side and washed in mind-numbing pain. “Oh!” She gasped. “A lot!”

“We’ll get you to a doctor after we get to San Antonio. We just can’t risk going anywhere else.”

“Who’s after us?!”

Something smashed into the side of their vehicle.


Casidi shot out of bed as her alarm rang the beginning of Sunday morning. She hopped out of bed and got in the shower. Her mind was reeling. How was this dream continuing every night?

She didn’t feel rested at all. Her sheets indicated that it had been a restless night.

Casidi leaned against the wall of the shower and yelped in pain. Craning her neck, she spotted a large purple bruise on the back of her upper arm.

“What the-” Obviously she had been a bit more restless than she thought.

She dried off, put on a dress, and was on her way out the door to meet Dean when her peripheral vision caught something. Her typewriter was out of it’s case, by her bed, with two new sheets typed up cleanly.

Aardvarks and Asparagus

Pin by Carianna Klimek on Absolute Genius | Pinterest

It’s just time for another light-hearted post filled with funny, random pictures.

cartoons, asparagus, wise vegetables, floss | Now That's Funny ...

Life TIPS from asparagus.

Well duh. What else did you think it was for?

Saw this Tapir at Bristol Zoo - Album on Imgur

Tapir’s be so smooth.

Bahahahaha I know this is bad but it’s hilarious!

funny moose - Dump A Day

Here in Alaska I’ve seen my fair share of moose. But I’ve never seen one smiling…

Lemurs are kind of terrifying. Look at those eyes O.O

My cat missed me | Fun Cat Pictures

Ladies and gentlemen…. cats.

Since apparently NO ONE has seen this picture. Stop looking at me weird when I say “Whatever floats your goat!”

Oh…. :'(

Well that concludes today’s funnies. I hope you got a good laugh.

It’s Meet and Greet Weekend @ Dream Big!! 11/20


A great chance to find new bloggers!

Originally posted on Dream Big, Dream Often:

imagesIt’s Meet and Greet Weekend at Dream Big!!

Ok so here are the rules:

  1. Leave a link to your page or post in the comments of this post.
  2. Reblog this post.  It helps you, it helps me, it helps everyone!  So don’t be selfish, hit the reblog button.
  3. Edit your reblog post and add tags (i.e. reblogging, reblog, meet n greet, link party, etc.), it helps, trust me on this one.
  4. Share this post on social media.  Many of my non-blogger friends love that I put the Meet n Greet on Facebook and Twitter because they find new bloggers to follow.  This helps also, trust me.

Now that all the rules have been clearly explained get out there and meet n greet your butts off!

See ya Monday!


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Mockingjay Part 2


Well, I mean, technically they’re not spoilers if you read the book.

Ok, I watched this last night with my lovely Bohemian Hippie Goddess friend and her little sister, who doesn’t have a blog title yet, but she needs one.

I will think on that.

And this movie… oh my fluffy pink cotton candy.

I forgot how many feels I really had for this fandom.

It was beautiful. Francis Lawrence is incredible. He really brought the book to life and stuck to it very well.

Oh goodness, where do I start….



Seriously though, it’s great for the story, creates a lot of conflict, but I would be so much happier if Gale and Katniss were actual cousins and had more of a best friend relationship. Because Gale was likable in the first book.


Stop being curdled milk, Gale. Just realize that she is not yours.

Jena Malone is the perfect Johanna Mason and how does anyone look that gorgeous bald?!

I cried when Finnick and Annie got married. Real tears.

I cried a little more when Bogs died.

The sewer scene was literally the most stressful thing I have ever sat through.

I cried when Finnick died.

I cried when Pollux was crying because Castor died.

I cried when Prim died.

I wish I could express my joy at seeing Haymitch kiss Effie. It was just such a simple, innocent, pure kiss. I ship them so so so very hard. They are perfect together. I want to see their future together. Suzanne Collins, pleeeaaassseee??

And, of course, Everlark babies. Adorable-ness.

So… yes. It was most perfect.


Crimson Peak Review



Ah, the beauty of this Gothic Victorian Romance/Suspense.

Guillermo Del Torro outdid himself.

Not only was the cast perfect in their roles (Hiddleston KILLED as Sir Thomas Sharpe) but the set, the music, the lighting, the attention to detail was just all so breathtaking.

But let’s start with the cast. As I said, Tom Hiddleston made a perfect Good Villain. Mia Wasikowska effortlessly played the naive, lovestruck authoress.

And Jessica Chastain. Holy cow. Who knew someone could play an incestual murderess with such grace, elegance, and poise. She was ruthless as Lucille Sharpe and played the role so well I forgot she was ever anything else.

Charlie Hunman and Jim Beaver (Bobby Singer!!!) were wonderful in their roles as well.

And that murder scene!!!!! Poor papa Cushing never saw it coming. But oh, it was brutal. The entire theater cringed when the sink broke.

I could go on for hours about the waltz scene.

I loved when Alan tipped his hat to Thomas at Mr. Cushing’s funeral. Like a silent “You take care of her”.

I really could just keep going but there’s one thing that just won’t leave me alone about this movie.

The ghosts.

There were three different colors of ghosts. Edith’s mother was a black ghost. The ghosts of the murdered wives were red. And then at the end, Thomas’s ghost was white, almost transparent.


My theory:

Edith talked so much about how ghosts are linked to certain places and events. I think the color depended on how they died.

Edith’s mom was black because she died from sickness. The murdered wives, and Lucille’s murdered baby, were all blood red. They died gruesome, hateful deaths.

The confusing ones are Lucille and Thomas, who both died gruesome deaths yet neither one had a red ghost.

Lucille was black. She died from sickness. Obviously, she wasn’t right in the head. For pity’s sake she had sex with her brother and murdered her mother. She died because of it. Her mental illness haunted her and that’s why she was black.

But what about Thomas? Why wasn’t his ghost black then?

He wasn’t insane. The incest, that was all Lucille. Thomas grew up believing that was ok because that was all he ever knew. Thomas didn’t murder his mother. Lucille did. And it was Lucille’s idea to marry into rich families and kill the wives off.

Thomas died because of love. He saved Alan, he saved Edith, and he tried to save Lucille, even though he knew that what she had done was wrong. He wanted to change her, to save her.

He was just so innocent and loving and forgiving.

That’s why his ghost was white.

Yes, yes. I know. I’m obsessed. So sue me.

Anyways, I’m always up for a lively discussion about this masterpiece of a movie.

Psych Ward


It was hard seeing him like this. Being led through dreary halls, probed with needles, stuck in rooms with no windows. But I held his hand the whole time.

They couldn’t see me.

Whenever we would have a minute alone he’d glance at me, piercing gray eyes that didn’t belong in that grimy, unshaven face.

“This isn’t fair,” He rasped.

“I know.” I placed my hand alongside his face. My pale skin glowed against his rough exterior.

“I just want to be with you.” A tear made a visible path down his face.

“I know sweetheart. But I’m always here.”

“They won’t let me see you sometimes.” He started to get angrier. “They won’t let me talk to you. I can’t touch you!” He shook at the restraints he was in.

I kissed his forehead gently.

” I’m always here. I’m right here with you.”

The men came and got him again. They started leading him somewhere new, somewhere I hadn’t seen. I had to run to keep up.

“Where are you taking me?” His legs went limp, but the men dragging him along didn’t miss a step. They had dealt with this before.

“Tell me where we’re going!”

“We’re just going to help you Mr. Jones.”

“My name is not Jones!” He screamed like an animal, he kicked, he bit, he swore. It tore my heart into pieces.

“Maria?!” He called behind him.

“I’m here baby,” I said softly, tears choking me. “I’m here.”


“I’m right here. I’m always with you.” But as I said the words I knew something was about to happen.

They led him through a door and it slammed in my face. I reached for the knob but couldn’t grasp it. This had never happened before.

I rushed to a large window. The glass was too thick, the walls had to much padding. He couldn’t hear me. He couldn’t see me.

He thought he was alone.

The men hefted him onto a table and strapped his legs down. He arms were still stuck in that horrendous jacket. His chest was pinned against the cold metal.

I could see he was screaming, the veins popping out of his neck.

“I’m still here!” I screamed.

A long needle was presented to a man with gloves on.

“No. You can’t do this! He’ll forget me!” I wailed as I pounded on the glass. Nobody in the room noticed me.

The needle was inserted into his arm. Even as it was drawn out I could feel it.

I was the ghost inside his head. And they were forcing me out.

“I can’t leave him! He needs me! He loves me!” I hit the glass with my failing strength.

“It’s been so long since he held me,” I whimpered. I was starting to go and I couldn’t even tell him good-bye. It was the car crash all over again. I could see him, but he couldn’t see me.

“Don’t make me go,” Even I could hardly hear my own voice.

They were giving him some sort of medication. I barely caught the pills being forced down his throat as my legs gave out and I sank to the floor.

I tried to tell him that I loved him but the words wouldn’t come out.

My world became white.