Author Archives: dreamingever

About dreamingever

Lover of chocolate, builder of kingdoms, and ever a dreamer I have always loved a good story. In 2002 I decided to follow my dream of becoming a serious writer. I love fantasy, mystery, and humor. Currently I'm immersed in a trilogy, Dark Lords of Epthelion. Book 1, Warrior Queen of Ha-Ran-Fel, has already been released and is available in paperback and Kindle at http://www.amazon.com/Warrior-Queen-Ha-Ran-Fel-Lords-Epthelion/dp/1491216336/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1387937505&sr=8-1&keywords=Warrior+Queen+of+Ha-Ran-Fel. Book 2, A Dark Moon Rises, will be released in January.

You Teach Others How To Treat You

Dr. Eric Perry

Written by Dr. Eric Perry
Image Credit: Pixabay


“You teach people how to treat you.” ~Oprah Winfrey

Many of us are living our lives repeating the same heartbreaking and unhealthy patterns. We appear to be stuck on replay unable to move forward while continually duplicating the chaos that caused us to leave our last relationship. Perhaps there is a belief that we have a “type” that we attract. We seem to get involved emotionally with the same type of person that inevitably turns out to be Mr. or Mrs. Wrong.

Looking at our past, we may realize that we are often at the center of a chaotic or unhealthy situation. Our belief may be that these situations keep happening to us. But, perhaps the real truth is that we are helping to create these situations by planting the seed of the behavior and nourishing its growth. Our subconscious beliefs about…

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Beware of These 8 Coronavirus-Related Scams

Truth2Freedom's Blog

As if the coronavirus pandemic itself isn’t bad enough, there are lots of scammers out there taking advantage of it — at our expense. Many websites, including government ones like the Federal Trade Commission (FTC), the Internal Revenue Service (IRS), and the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB), are listing scams to be wary of.

Source: Beware of These 8 Coronavirus-Related Scams

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Random Acts of Kindness

Random Acts

Something happened today I have never experienced before.  It left me reeling—not from shock, horror, or pain but with a genuine warmth I’ve not felt in a while.  No, I didn’t meet Mr. Right.  But the incident’s impact, if nurtured and shared, could prove just as long-lasting and perhaps more fulfilling. It all started out routinely enough.  I ran to U-Haul for one last box and then pulled in behind a white pickup truck at a McDonald’s drive-thru to grab some lunch.  Listening to the radio while mulling over what still needs doing before the movers show up next week, I didn’t notice much else.  Pack this box. . .call the utilities. . .clean, clean, clean!  Now, what have I forgotten?  Meanwhile, the line inched forward.  I fumbled through my purse, finally pulling out a wrinkled ten-dollar bill as I reached the pick-up window.  The clerk appeared with my food but waved the money aside.  “You’re fine.  The guy ahead of you paid for your lunch.”

“What?”  My hand holding the crumpled sawbuck still hung out the window.

“You don’t owe anything,” the clerk repeated.  “The guy in that white pickup paid for your lunch.”

I stared, dumbfounded.  “Why?” I blurted finally. The clerk shrugged.  “I dunno.  Guess he just wanted to make your day better.”

Even then it didn’t quite register.  I stared after the departing truck and offered a hesitant wave as it turned onto the street and disappeared into the traffic.  “My goodness.  That’s never happened before.” Feeling strangely light, I thanked the clerk, took my lunch, and drove away.  The upcoming move had me stressed to some degree but not overly burdened; nevertheless, that gentleman’s kindly act seemed to lift a weight off my shoulders.  I wished I could have thanked him properly.  He probably hadn’t seen my wave.  At least, I decided, I could pass his generosity along.  My face relaxed into a broad smile as I drove to Dutch Brothers for an iced tea. Nick, the barista, greeted me with his usual grin and a hearty, “How ya doin’?”

“Great!  But you’re not going to believe this.  I still don’t,” I answered. Nick’s smile never waned as I poured out my tale.  “Actually,” he said, “I hear of that happening quite often.  A guy even did that for me once, and last week the paper had an article about a mom who takes her kids to a drive-in and tells them, ‘How about we do something nice for that man (or that lady) behind us?  Let’s buy them lunch.’  And she does.” Wow!  What an example to set for your children!

As we talked, a woman pulled up to the opposite window.  I gestured toward her.  “Know what?  I’m going to share that guy’s good deed and buy her drink.  I think that’s the best way to thank him.” Nick agreed.  Crossing to the other window, he took her order and brought me the bill.  I paid and then, tea in hand, headed back to the office.  I felt really good.  As I drove, however, I got to thinking.  No stranger had ever bought me lunch before, but several have done thoughtful little things over the years, like opening doors when I’m struggling with a package, holding the elevator, or offering a compliment or cheery greeting.  While they might not seem significant, such small acts uplift the other person’s spirits.  These simple courtesies tell a person, “You matter.” Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.  Having grown up in a Christian home I had heard those words of Jesus many times; yet how often have I withheld common courtesy because I am having a bad day and can’t (or won’t) look beyond my own issues, or because I am just plain Kopping an attitude?  Maybe I can’t afford to buy everyone lunch, but I can certainly extend kindness.  I can say by my words and deeds, “You matter.”

In that light I’ve decided to make the following my daily prayer:  “Lord, help me treat others the way I would like to be treated, regardless of how I am treated in return.  Help me to look for at least one opportunity for an act of kindness today.”  And by living that way, mightn’t I make someone else’s day just a little bit better?

© Everthedreamer, 2020 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

Hiking to Fish Dam Island at Eno River State Park

Oh, this takes me back! I can’t wait to get hiking again!

Mark All My Words

Sometimes it’s the little things in life that escape our notice, and sometimes it’s the big things.

When it’s the little things, it’s easy to make excuses. “How was I supposed to know?” is a common refrain, especially when dealing with things so intricate as to be inscrutable — like the tax code or the instructions for putting together Ikea furniture.

But when it’s the big things, it’s harder to make excuses. “How was I supposed to know?” doesn’t seem to hold water when you’re talking about something big enough to be considered a land mass in its own right.

Yet, despite its seeming absurdity, there are times when big things do escape our notice. For instance, when things are so big that they surround us, overwhelm us, or exceed the limits of our senses, we are necessarily beholden to them. Like becoming accustomed to the smell of cow droppings…

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Three simple rules for Successful Life

Some food for thought. And I think the biggest message is: Work hard and DON’T GIVE UP! Thanks, Rising Star, for some good advice and a great post!

It's all about Inspiration

Life is the name of difficulties and struggles. It requires a lot of efforts and strength to live it happily. We require a lot of motivation and inspiration to live it happily and fruitfully. Inspirations play a vital part in the success of our lives. Many a time we exhausts and loose our motto but at that time Inspiration brings all the energy back and we start our journey once again with a new power and new hope.

If you follow the three rules, you will be able to get more and more success in your life. These are the three Secrets of Success in life.

Rules for Successful Life

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A Walk in the Enchanted Forest

Forest Gateway

I never had much interest in trees.  Growing up in southern Idaho’s high desert, I viewed them as little more than windbreaks shielding farms from the howling gales so prevalent in our area.  While I loved the roar of wind in lofty branches and even climbed a tree or two in my younger years, the arboreal realm held little fascination for me–until I bought my first digital camera.  Roaming about our yard one afternoon desperately seeking photo ops, I aimed the lens skyward through the branches of a quaking aspen, clicked the shutter, then opened the viewer to see what wonders I had wrought.  An exquisite pattern of emerald lace against the clear blue sky, more beautiful than I  imagined, filled the tiny screen.  Captivated, I took more shots and now noticed the twists and turns in trunks and limbs and the configurations of the bark and leaves.  I had discovered a whole new world!

A writers’ conference in Canby, Oregon brought me to my Enchanted Forest.  Between seminars and workshops I wandered well-worn paths through seventy acres of pristine woodland, gazing in awe at ancient trees robed in moss and ivy.  Some huddled together as though whispering among themselves.  Filmy veils cascaded from branches and floated on the fragrant breeze.  Sunlight filtered through the branches, bathing a nearby glen in ethereal light.

Ethereal Light

The warm, piney aroma I smelled upon first entering the woods turned sweet/sour as I passed a rotting log and then into a very pleasant fragrance I could not identify as I rounded a corner.  Indeed, the fragrance changed with every step and I thanked God for the senses He had given me to enjoy this scene.  The timing for this walk could not have been more perfect;  I was writing the section of my novel, Warrior Queen of Ha-Ran-Fel, where the heroes hunted the Dark Lord’s beast in the deep forest of San-Leyon.  This quiet little wood became a wilderness kingdom inhabited by rugged woodsmen and the Little People.  Magical creatures in the trees and shrubbery emerged and retreated in the scattered sunlight and shadow.

Twister

One trunk resembled a serpentine, leaf-wrapped tornado, and as I rounded another bend–wow, could that be Treebeard strolling by?  (For anyone unfamiliar with Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Treebeard was an Ent, or tree creature.)

Treebeard

Rounding still another bend, my vivid imagination spotted a spidery form peering through the gloom.

Forest Sprite

Another Ent?  Or perhaps a forest troll or woodland sprite.

Not far beyond that, I encountered what first resembled giant talons, but as I looked closer I thought I saw the head of a miniature pony and its tiny form sprawled atop the gnarl.  It’s rather hard to see in the shadow, but the way the moss drapes off the closest “claw” reminds me of a horse’s mane.

Pony or Claw

At any rate, I took dozens of photos, far more than this post can accommodate.  And what’s really neat (I think) is that, when I look at them again, each photo reveals something I hadn’t noticed before.  Each one became a building block in constructing my story.

I will always cherish this excursion.  I felt as though, in this picturesque little wood, I had entered the fictional world of my book.  And I didn’t have to travel far to find it.

2 Never fear shadows

© Everthedreamer, 2020 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

Ocean Sunset

Ocean sunset 7

I’m staring at the most beautiful scene: A northern California shoreline at sunset. The sun hovers just above the waves, staining the heavens with brilliant shades of crimson and orange as it settles in for the night. Foam-topped waves tumble shoreward, churning and swirling among the smooth stones before pulling back for another run. Farther out, a jagged monolith juts out of the sea, black against the fiery backdrop, a lone gull perched on its top.

It’s only a picture, torn from last year’s calendar and tacked to my den wall. But I hear the ocean’s timeless roar, feel the brisk breeze on my face, and I remember a time when I stood on such a beach watching the sunset after an exhilarating day flying kites and running barefoot in the sand. For three glorious days I’d thrown off the shackles of adult obligations to embrace childhood again, reveling in the crisp autumn air of a nearly-empty beach and casting aside cell phone, laptop and wrist watch to commune solely with wind and waves and to hear my Creator’s still small voice.

That evening aroused many emotions: tranquility, serenity, awe and breathless wonder, and even some silliness as I contemplated the cloud of steam that should have erupted when the sun hit the ocean. As a child I actually believed that—until my parents finally told me, very matter-of-factly, that the sun does not drop into the ocean. A basic science class explaining the true nature of the solar system later confirmed their words. But I still think one needs to entertain some silliness once in a while. Everyone needs a little humor and levity. I certainly do.

That meeting of sun and sea made me consider another aspect of life: How often does it seem we tread dangerous waters while heading straight into a fire? I know that feeling, as do countless others. Those pounding waves and raging fires can crush and consume—or they can refine and strengthen. Fire and water play leading roles in my fantasy novels as both destroyers and refiners as, literally and figuratively, my heroes pass through both. What determines how you emerge? Partly who you are: your attitude toward life and people, and how you deal with circumstances. Mostly it is what—or Who—you worship. Years ago I chose to worship Jesus Christ. Does he remove the obstacles? No. Do bad things still happen to us? Yes. Does he intervene in our behalf? Yes, sometimes in ways we don’t expect or think to be right. And does he walk with us in trials, offering grace and comfort? Absolutely!

Sometimes as I gaze at that picture I envy that gull which, unfettered by schedules, deadlines, and the demands of life simply takes to the heavens at will. But there’s a place within me where my Creator lives, where I can lay aside my burdens, collect my thoughts, and talk to Him—and listen when He speaks to my heart. Likely I’ll never live near a beach—but Christ has prepared a place for me more wonderful than any place on this earth. And someday I may even revisit that beach, kick off my shoes, launch my kite and watch it soar among the gulls. In the meantime I cherish the truth that, whether in crushing waves or searing fire, my Savior is always with me.

Ocean sunset 4

© Everthedreamer, 2020 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

A Small Ant Dream

Absolutely love this! Thank you, Adwin, for a great post.

(Metanoia)

I too had a Dream. A small ant dream.

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#newyear #dreams #life #poem #poet #author #blogger #faith #story #wish #pray

Most of the time i miss the whole story of my dreams…., soon after waking up. I always try to remember my last dream. And misses the middle part. Ahhhh…. it’s like…, missing major part of a film. But its okay. Soon.. am gonna miss rest of my dream too..(the whole movie)😉

Every dream i seen expire fast from my memory. And i found one way, to recover my dreams. So i started to note down my dreams in a white paper with pencil, in early mornings. The strange thing i found was.. continuity in some of my dreams. But still not clear about those dreams. Some dreams are nightmares & lucid types.

All the dreams made me damn confused. Real world is so so so far compared to dreamily…

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Reawakening Creativity

 

Reawakening

One Friday, in response to my company’s Summer Education challenge, I logged into their web portal to peruse the classes offered.  A taped SkillSoft seminar entitled, “Unthink:  Rediscover Your Creative Genius,” presented by Erik Wahl piqued my interest and I decided to give it a listen.  (Mr. Wahl has written a book by the same name, which I think is worth checking out.)  The seminar addressed reawakening the imagination and passion we possessed as children until, first school and then life constricted our creativity into “logic” and, in some cases, caused us to simply fold our wings and refuse to fly.

It certainly applied in my case.  I never wanted to be cooped up in an office, but the competition’s fierce, regardless of your chosen profession.  Self-employment proves especially tough, which is why I took the “safer” route writing computer code instead of fantasy.  Thirty years ago, “data processing” was the up and coming thing.  Computers still posed something of a mystery and required specialized teams to maintain them.  They were locked away in sophistically air-conditioned rooms because the machinery put out so much heat that, without a cooling system, you’d suffer major damage or even a fire.  I still remember my first visit to the computer center of a local trucking company while enrolled in an introductory computer class.  The computer itself was the length of the wall and sounded like an idling tractor.  Four people manned keypunch machines (this was in the 1970’s) while others walked around carrying big trays of cards.  Tape drives lined another wall, two big printers hammered out reports, and another machine trimmed the perforated edges off the fruit-striped paper the reports had printed on.  The flurry of programmers and technicians surrounding this beast made me think of worker bees attending the queen.

Barren Waste

Yes, computers were the Next Big Thing and should provide a steady paycheck.  Programming, however, demands LOGIC and holds no tolerance for anyone who colors the sun red, the sky yellow, and the grass blue (as I did back in the first grade).  I had to grind down the corners and rough edges of my thinking in order to cram myself, a square peg, into the round hole known as “business logic.”  It took a lot of work, but I somehow succeeded.  My creativity, however, suffered and thus I was eager to hear what Mr. Wahl had to say.  While these are not his words exactly, I think I caught the gist of what he said:

1)  Don’t be afraid to take a risk and don’t be afraid to fail.  To illustrate, he asked his audience how many could draw.  A few hesitant hands went up.  Mr. Wahl noted that, were he to ask a group of first-graders that question, every hand in the room would shoot up.  Instead of thinking, Oh, I can’t even draw a decent stick figure, children are eager to show what they can do.  But by adulthood we have suffered failures and encountered people whose abilities surpass ours.  In our eyes we pale by comparison, and so we’re embarrassed to display what we perceive to be pathetic or even ridiculous efforts.

2)  Become engaged.  Why do children pick up new languages faster than adults?  Many adults try to translate word for word, while children simply think in the new language and don’t realize how difficult it is.  Children adapt more easily than adults.  I have been especially constrained in this area.  My profession changed radically over the last thirty years.   We used to be “data processing.”  Now we are “information technology.”  As an IBM midrange programmer I worked on a “dumb terminal” until 1997, when I took a job at a company that interfaced its IBM midrange with windows servers.  Talk about culture shock!  But I had to adapt, and even attempted to learn “object oriented” languages, which is when I discovered what a migraine headache was.  These languages do not even resemble RPG.  Frustrated, I gave up and thus did not engage.

Neither had I embraced social media which, given what I want to accomplish, is absolutely necessary.  Writers need to network.  They need to market.  Social media enables both.  Facebook. . .Twitter. . .Pinterest. . .to me they look complicated and so I balk.  However, I must adapt in order to one day break out of programming and into full-time writing.  I must learn how to use the powerful tools available to me.  An honest assessment reveals that my lack of engagement stems partly from intimidation and partly from laziness.  This week, therefore, I resolve to sit down one evening, take a deep breath, and then log on and take the time to acquaint myself with at least one of these tools, after which I will dive in and set up an account.  In other words, stop thinking about how hard it looks and just do it!

Fear:  False evidence that appears real.  Fear kills performance.  Mr. Wahl made that point loud and clear.  We’ve all heard the story of the whipped puppy tied up in the back yard who, even after a rescuer unties him, continues to sit, cowering, too paralyzed with fear to move.  I think a lot of us get that way.  We hate our situation but, even when presented with the means to break free, don’t use them because we have settled into a dead-end rut that became our comfort zone.  Freedom requires change, and change makes us uncomfortable.  But did you ever notice that those who embrace change flourish?  They’re the folks who go places!  They’re the folks who soar!

Personally, I believe that a life without risks is never fully lived.  Engaging change involves risk, and while at first it seems disquieting—even frightening—change can also prove exciting and open the door to a vibrant, fulfilling life.  So. . .to quote a famous starship captain:  Engage!

Fantasy

© Everthedreamer, 2020 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.

Living the Dream

Mt. Hood

I once believed that ‘living the dream’ meant acquiring all you ever hoped and yearned for, along with all the abundance life could offer.  The struggle was over.  Your ship had come in.  You had arrived!  But I discovered making that dream happen requires a lot of faith and work. It is a journey, not a destination.  Yet even though I don’t own a country estate or drive an expensive Land Cruiser I am loving the ride!

It started slowly: scattered ideas pecked out on my home computer every evening. As a 30-year computer programming veteran, one would think that, by the end of the day, I’d have had my fill of those temperamental beasts. Co-workers often asked why, after eight hours of crunching code, I would want to burn precious leisure time at another computer grinding out a story. At first, I answered (only half-jokingly) that I didn’t have a life and had decided to sit down and dream one up. But the truth is, I’ve always been a notorious daydreamer with a vivid imagination. Writing is fun!  It’s an escape.  Like a time machine, a good story sweeps writer and reader alike to a whole different world.  And when the Muse starts talking I start typing.

Early in life I knew I would become an author. Between grade school assignments I penned stories, and to my delight was often asked to read them to the class. In a second grade operetta, my character was the only one that didn’t have a song, so I composed one.  High school, however, brought other interests and my dream took a back seat.

Then in 1988 the bug bit hard. I started a western based on an incident in my dad’s life when he was ten.  Too often when I sat down to write, however, my mind became as blank as the page I was staring at.  A community college writing professor provided the solution.  The first ten minutes of every class we HAD to write. If no ideas came, we were to write, “I can’t think of a single thing, but the prof says we have to write about something for ten minutes.”  Ideas would come, he promised, and he was right!  I sat down at that computer every evening, and soon what should have been a short story became a 300-page novel. The plot posed some problems, so I put it aside for later. A new story had presented itself and I eagerly set to work.

AllCoversBlack

Lord of the Rings had just come out on DVD. I loved the books, but found the movie SENSATIONAL (AND packing a lot more action)! Somewhere between The Two Towers and The Return of the King I envisioned a young woman in a blue cotton dress standing outside a ramshackle cottage. Dry grass surrounded her, and behind her an old dead tree raised gnarled white branches to the sky. She stared into the sunset, contemplating where she could go. Danger lurked along every path, and none of the surrounding kingdoms welcomed strangers. I didn’t know whether she was simply unhappy or in mortal danger. But as the plot and her character developed, I discovered the tragedy she had endured and how desperately wicked were the demons assailing her.  A story of human resilience, faith, and victory emerged, set in a beautiful enchanted world full of intriguing characters. Two other novels completed the DARK LORDS OF EPTHELION trilogy, and then I wrote two others, ghost stories arising from the arson fire of a local landmark. (I even became an integral part of that landmark’s restoration.) The true account of my struggle and recovery from crippling panic attacks followed, and now I’m working on a children’s series and another novel.

I’m learning a lot on this journey and am grateful to friends, family, and fellow authors for their help and encouragement.  It hasn’t come about quite the way I’d hoped but I am living my dream and I’ve learned some valuable life lessons. If I could offer one bit of advice it would be this:  Don’t be afraid to tackle something you’ve yearned to do. Whatever your dream, pursue it!  You’ll be amazed by what you accomplish.

Timberline Trail1

© Everthedreamer, 2020 Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without written permission from the author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given.