October 25, 2010


I was panicking. Running away from what I had done, I couldnt stop even for a while to catch my breath(This time I had murdered my sister :| ). I ran and ran until it came into view : A big, beautiful, white house with royal blue windows that stood alone on the sandy shore of a sea. In my mind, I knew it was my house. I stood on a flat hill that overlooked the scene. A cold wind blew in my face and I wrapped my arms around myself. The scene was breathtaking. I felt relaxed and calm. I felt saved.

One more time I had this dream. Yes, I am a dreamer. But unlike most of my dreams, this one was clear. My escape for the mistakes I have made is always my home. Not that I dream of murdering my sister or doing it and running to my house but for every mistake I make, I have a home where I can go to and I have people in it (with or without my sister ;) ) who are ready to help me out. Home is where I can be myself and still be accepted. My home is my escape.


  1. good humor....love it..u remind me of the blessings..thanks)

  2. Glad you realized it while still living there .. for some people, there is no escape called home ..