Almost in silhouette, I see Winona Ryder stomping across a hilltop towards our barn. She is wearing a long, black dress and boots. I hear her furious thoughts.
"I HATE it when he hides in the other room," she thinks, "and pretends I've discovered him doing something!"
When Winona enters the barn, I make sure to stumble into view, looking harried.
"Sorry," I say, breathless. "I was just in the other room."
I gesticulate towards the other room,
On the other side of the room is an open door, which, even now, is closing its secrets to us - to her - in a slow arc.
Winona smiles warmly.
Dean's Dream Journal
My writing is sometimes inspired by my dreams.
"How to Remember Your Dreams" will help you with:
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