An insistent voice brought me out of the void and darkness. “What is your name? Where are you?” My eyes opened to see a...
Dreamers Creative Writing is dedicated to writing that is from the heart.
I’ve been waiting for you. Patiently waiting among the sepia pages and crisp black and white edges.
Instantly, the first chapter of Freshwater by Akwaeke Emezi introduces a peculiar, dissociative predicament, “By the time she (our body) struggled out into the world, slick and louder than a village...
Writing and love making have much in common. Through your imagination, you, Writer, caress your precious Reader and you are...
The call I was expecting came just after two o’clock on a blustery March afternoon. Instead of going home after my meeting...
Sometimes it comes in fits and starts and sometimes all at once in a deluge, but when you’re edging thirty years old, riding passenger...
“Your garden is like a park,” my mother-in-law would say when she came to visit us in Wisconsin from her home in Canada. It was a...
The doctor adjusts his glasses, tells me the news. There isn’t much else. I leave the muted-colored office and beat my hands on the steering wheel.
I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder (BPD) in 1991 at thirty years-old, following my second suicide attempt. Individuals who have BPD lack the ability to...
Book Review of Anne Lamott’s Almost Everything: Notes on Hope – Book Review by Catherine Lanser – A few months back I had an opportunity to see Anne Lamott speak.
I found in the pocket of the jeans I wore last night a yellow note: from the triple g&t...
David and I were still awake at 3 am. The moon wasn’t full, that wasn’t the reason, but the Perseids were doing their August trick, showering meteors like streaks of sleep dust from the sandman, mocking us.
Days shy of my fortieth birthday, attended a class with master writing teacher Laleh Khadivi: in San Francisco at Christina Garcias’s Las Dos Brujas. A new meaning emerged...
No people remain to lift their hands in farewell. Home does not speak. It does not call out our names as we move up the steps onto the plane. It does not call out as if to say...
Go down the gravel road past the farm where a family lived in a boxcar, past the field with longhorn cattle When you hear donkeys bray, you are almost there.
I have a piece of turquoise beach glass.The second rarest color, after orange. It sits collecting dust between...
