Once there was this bright eyed and imaginative little girl full of stories and energy that many could just not fathom for her young age. It would take many around her to occupy her attention and her exuberance, and often it was said she was too spoiled, too self-centered. Yet, in her beautiful and complicated mind, she knew not how to temper her insatiable thirst for understanding. Often lonely and isolated, she searched for answers in books.
I dreamed a dream of compassion, love, heroism and acceptance.
Life has killed all she dreamed.
Ignorance of others would not rest until her own heart and mind shrunk from repeated attack. Only in the comfort of silence have the voices quieted and the taunts subsided. Few will ever truly understand the sacrifices made for the small tidbits of peace she finds hidden among the terror filled dreams.
I dreamed a dream of compassion, love, heroism and acceptance. I dreamed of a God who would be forgiving.
She dreamed of a life so different from the tortured hell in which she survives. Pleas for help, for understanding, for compassion found deaf ears, and in desperation, she fell silent to save the small flicker of hope left in a bruised and decaying heart.
Oh yes, Ms. Havisham, I understand betrayal so bright it snatches away the sunlight and leaves dreams to waste into perpetual suffering.
Emily, I have a rose for you, for your long suffering. Our dreams are not so dissimilar.
I dreamed a dream of compassion, love, heroism and acceptance
This house was built by my 5th great uncle Caleb Hall, Sr in Bourbon, Kentucky shortly after the Rev. War. The Halls did not maintain ownership of the home too long, and the family who eventually purchased it owned it into the 20th century. It is now abandoned and has been for over 25 years. I dream of living here, of retracing the steps of my ancestors.
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