Dreams, my child, are treasures deep, Cradled in your heart where they safely sleep. While coins and jewels swell with rust, Your dreams are the riches that defy all dust.
On a tree of wishes, tags swing high, Soft tears whispered to the everlasting divine sky. Gold may glitter, diamonds may gleam, But nobody can ever steal a sweet childhood dream!
Health is wealth, the wise declare, Yet, dreams have wings beyond compare. So dream your dreams, chase them far, A priceless gift—a magical shooting star.
Your dreams are fires that never die, A beaming lighthouse—guiding you through the night. So dream big, dear child, the world is wide, Open your heart, let your dreams soar with pride.
Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to write a passionate scene, even though, in my opinion, romantic plots are often overdone. Still, many horror stories I’ve read miss something… that subtle romantic subplot showing the soft and vulnerable side of the character. I needed to make sure my story didn’t overlook this aspect. True and authentic love is incredibly hard to find, right? Maybe that’s why we turn to books, hoping to glimpse and experience its magic through the characters we follow. Yet, if you’re lucky enough to experience the perfect kiss even once in your life, you’re truly fortunate. It’s worth the wait! On that note, as a self-proclaimed romantic, I had to weave this delicate thread into my dark story, obviously. 🙂
Here’s a glimpse of that moment from chapter 14 of my project, without giving too much away. ❤️
He put both hands firmly on her face, preventing her from slipping away. There was no way he would let her go this time. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”
Before Nayah could respond, his lips found hers, soft and gentle at first, but full of hunger and intensity, waiting for her for far too long. She realized in that instant how much she wanted this—wanted him—more than she had ever admitted. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand sliding into his drenched hair. Her fingers dug in, feeling the tenderness of his skin. It was soothing and addictive—his warmth against the cold rain.
His hand shifted to cradle her neck, drawing her closer, as though he would never let her go. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the way his entire body leaned into hers, every movement charged with meaning. His chest pressed against hers with desire to fill the spaces she had kept hidden from the world. Nayah responded, releasing a soft sigh. Her knees buckled slightly, but she shifted closer, seeking more of him. The kiss wasn’t just physical; it was an unraveling, a collapse of the last walls between them.
For a moment, nothing else existed—no haunted houses, no missing journals, no demons or keys—just this.
But the passionate kiss was interrupted when a sudden, loud crack of thunder reverberated beneath their feet. They pulled apart, both gasping, startled by the sound.
Nayah stepped back breathless. “What… what was that?” “I don’t know,” he said, his voice tight with unease. The sky had darkened even further, thick clouds rolling in, casting the town square into a dark twilight. But something else felt off. Nayah sensed it—a prickling fear crawling over her skin.
I always wanted a house. It was my sweet dream, like it is for many people. In our society, a house is seen as the ultimate benchmark of success: the bigger the house, the more prosperous you are believed to be. But is that really true? Can the size and appearance of your house truly measure your wealth? We often see only the surface, valuing material accomplishments. But what if there’s more? How do we measure happiness, quality of life, or success? Perhaps we should look deeper to see the hidden dimensions of fulfillment.
For years, I dreamed of owning a house. Like a blindfolded person, I focused on it without questioning why. I never thought about the location, layout, or design. I just wanted a house. Why? Maybe because, since childhood, I heard my parents talk about building a house (they never did). I didn’t want a mansion—the bigger the house, the more mess to clean up, right? But I wanted more space from my kids, and for them to have space from each other. So, while I had a place to live, I also had a dream. Until one day, I actually thought about it.
During a recent trip to Poland, I had to spend five days in Warsaw. A relative offered us one of her houses just outside the city. It was newly built and still unoccupied. We accepted the offer.
The house was perfect. When I walked in, I could smell the polished wood floors. The hallway led to an open living room, dining room, and kitchen—a grand-royal dance floor where I could glide between the counters. Warm light spilled into the space through enormous windows. In the living room, Victorian windows with elegantly folded beige curtains overlooked the backyard. The stairs led to four bedrooms upstairs. Then there was the attic—the coziest space in the house, filled with the owner’s musical instruments and boxes of books. It was small, with slightly slanted walls to accommodate the roof, yet warm and inviting. Golden sunlight spilled into both rooms through small skylights. I immediately thought about sipping warm tea on a cold winter evening.
The next morning, I got up at dawn. The world was still asleep. I quietly made a cup of coffee and stepped outside onto the wooden deck. The air was cold, moist, and refreshing. A thin fog sat on the soft grass like a carpet out of a Shakespearean play. The sun was rising behind the hill. I took a few lazy steps and soaked my bare feet in the dew-covered grass. You don’t get that in LA. It was peaceful and quiet, but not silent. A few birds kept me company from a distance. I wished my kids were there to see it, but I didn’t want to wake them. I sat on a chair and enjoyed the magnificent morning. The cold was getting to me, but strangely, I didn’t mind. I curled my legs, hugged my knees, and had another sip of hot coffee. That was enough to keep me warm.
As I sat there, I thought about the amazing house and the gorgeous view. This was a perfect house—ideal size—just what I wanted without realizing it. I was literally living in my dream! Just a few miles away from a big city. What else could I want?
Yet something was missing. I thought of my tiny, cluttered apartment in Glendale, and morning visits to Panera. It had been many days since my last workout—I missed my gyms. I thought of my people. Instinctively, I picked up my phone and texted my friend, “Greetings from Poland.” She immediately replied, “Please, come back soon, we miss you.” My heart jumped. I hadn’t realized how close we had gotten over the past few months. I missed them too. Here I was, about 100 miles away from my parents and brother— my immediate family. Yet, I missed my friends. Pathetic, I thought. But my mother hadn’t called me in years—not once—to ask about the kids. Yet, she’s my mom, and I love her. She had a heart attack over a year ago and I had been looking forward to seeing her since. Now, when I am finally here, I couldn’t wait to go back home! I missed those tiny glimpses of my boring everyday life I disliked so much! But somehow, this is the world I have built for myself. I could do little things I enjoyed, even for a few minutes. This beautiful house I was in was far away from everything. No gym within walking distance, no coffee shop to work at, and definitely too far from friends and the beach!
A dream house is just that—a dream. It’s an illusion and distraction that blurs our present. While it’s important to have dreams and pursue them, it is far from living in the moment. My dream house was an idea I loved in my head. However, reality has both sides. Unfortunately, in our dreams, we only see the positive. And that is not real.
I still want a house, but I now see it through the prism of life, bending my perspective on its value. The dream house is just one color of the dispersed light, while the other colors represent the many aspects of life. If you focus only on one color, you miss out on the beautiful rainbow effect. So, cherish the things that truly matter and bring meaning. Make each smile count because, after all, the tiny moments make up our life, just like many colors make up the rainbow. Value those moments and remember them. After all, true prosperity is measured not by the size of our homes but by the richness of our lives and the memories we create.
Wolverine Lily 