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September 25, 2023 by in category Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as ,
Photo by Tom Barrett on Unsplash

This is a true story.

Two nights ago, I had a dream I could fly. I opened my arms wide, pulled the wind toward me and felt my feet lift off the ground. It was glorious. With my engineering-trained mind I quickly sought practical applications.

First, my husband and I went out at night—so the neighbors wouldn’t see—and I picked all of the apples, red and ripe, off the top branches, dropping them one by one into my husband’s waiting hands. Next, I inspected the flat portion of our roof. Never buy a house with a flat roof. We worry about that 10 x 10 section constantly. Then I decided to fly out to Seattle to visit my son. But about three minutes into the flight—I was traveling at approximately 10miles/hour—I realized that Seattle is 3000 miles away. That’s a 300 hour flight.

Hearing a roar overhead, I decided to fly into the clouds and hitch a ride on a passing jumbo jet.


Those things travel at 600 miles/hour. My head would get blown off.

I suppose even flying has its practical limitations.

In the final image of the dream, I was in the future and my son had a three-year-old daughter. I had volunteered to watch her for the day. As the scene opened, we were gleefully jumping on my son’s bed. Then I taught her to fly. “Open your arms, like this.” I opened my arms, “and pull the wind to yourself.” How quickly she learned.

“Flying is so much fun, Nana.”

When I woke, I immediately understood the dream. I can do the impossible. The choice is mine.

Last night, I had a second dream. I was agitated and rushed. I slipped the car into reverse, stomped down on the accelerator and backed out of the parking space so recklessly that I plowed into the car behind me one row over. Crying and distraught, I called the police and reported the accident. My silver Chevy Malibu—a huge tank of a car with bench seats and a V8—was undamaged. The next morning, again jittery and overwrought by . . . whatever . . . I backed out and hit another car. That night I hit a third vehicle in exactly the same way, this one belonging to Omar, a guide who had been helping me by showing me around town. “You totaled my car!” He grabbed his head in distress. “How am I going to get to work!”

I was taken before a judge.

“I’m so sorry. I was stupid. This is all my fault.”

She took away my driver’s license.

“I don’t know why I did this. I was just so upset and angry.”

I was sentenced to counseling. “You could have hurt someone,” she said. “When I’m satisfied you’re no longer a danger, I’ll give your license back.”

I woke. Immediately, I understood the dream. I am powerful. I can use my power to destroy things and hurt the people I love.

The choice is mine.

My power is my creativity. Most importantly my power is my writing. With my stories I can reveal truth to those who would hide from it. I can comfort the soul of a hurting person. I can unveil oppression. I can say, I understand, and I stand with you. With my stories I give my heart word-wings to fly where I cannot go. And on these wings my readers soar to longed-for futures.

Or I can ravage tender souls with hate and lust and violence.

The choice is mine.

~ Kidd Wadsworth

Kidd’s Stories are in the following anthologies

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Dreams in Writing

July 25, 2023 by in category Infused with Meaning by Kidd Wadsworth tagged as , , , ,

I woke at two in the morning from a nightmare in which I was being hunted by an assassin. In the dream, desperate to get away, I hid on the third floor of an abandoned building. I remember looking out the dirty windows and seeing the assassin below in the parking lot looking up at me. He was tracking my cell phone.

I removed the sim card and, just for good measure, smashed the phone.

Two days later, he almost caught me hiding in a bakery. The owner, an old friend, came rushing into kitchen whispering, “The man you described just walked through the front door.” I ducked out the back and hid on the fire escape. As he left, I saw him glance up at the street cams.


I hitchhiked into the Indiana countryside. I figured I was safe among the endless fields of ten foot tall cornstalks. I was wrong. As I turned and ran, he shouted after me, “You’ll never get away, I’ve tapped into the satellites.”

That’s when I woke up. Everything was familiar: my bedroom, my sweetie softly breathing beside me. I wasn’t afraid; I was curious. How would I evade an assassin? I turned to that great fountain of wisdom, the TV. As my husband slept, I searched Netflix and Amazon Prime for a movie that would show me how to escape.

Click. Click. Click.

I clicked almost as many times as Indiana has ears of corn. Then I discovered a Bruce Lee movie! Yes! Surely, Bruce would know how to evade an assassin.

Guess what? Bruce Lee never evades. He never hides. He confronts his enemies. He turns to face them, looks them straight in the eye, and kicks butt.

That’s when I knew who the assassin was. My assassin was a family problem. Yes, I wanted to hide. And yes, I definitely wanted to smash my cell phone, but I couldn’t get away. I had to become Bruce Lee. I had to face my problem head on. I needed to look it in the eye—and kick butt.

So, why did I tell you this?

I recently read a fascinating book called Dreams: God’s Forgotten Language by John A. Sanford. I believe dreams can add depth and, strangely, genuineness to a story. But there’s a catch, and it’s a big one. You’ve got to get it right. Dreams follow certain patterns—unobvious patterns—that we all instinctively recognize. So, if you want to put a dream sequence in your story, read an authoritative book about dreams and common reoccurring images in dreams, first. Otherwise, the dream won’t read as “real.” Rather it will seem contrived, a way too convenient plot device, and pop the reader right out of the story.

BTW, I did actually dream about being hunted by an assassin, and I do think my subconscious was telling me to stop running away from my problems. I’m currently working on becoming Bruce Lee, but he’s a difficult act to follow.

Happy Writing!

Kidd Wadsworths Has Stories in the Following Anthologies

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Snow Angel by Neetu

December 26, 2020 by in category Poet's Day by Neetu Malik tagged as , , , , ,
a woman making a snow angel

Snow Angel

I shaped you in the snow
the last time it descended
from the misty sky above

gentle flakes fluttered
settled thickly upon barren earth—
forming soft cloud comfort

I carved a dream
with my happy soul, smiling,
my eyes searched the universe

there were no stars that night–
just a crystalline radiance, in which
I molded the dream.

© Neetu Malik

Some of Neetu’s Books

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November 10, 2019 by in category Charmed Writer by Tari Lynn Jewett tagged as , , , ,

I’ve wandered down the rows of bookshelves in libraries and bookstores so many times in my life, fantasizing about what it would feel like to see my book on one of those shelves, hold a book with my name on it in my hands, sign books for readers, and maybe, just maybe get fan letters.

Last year my first book was published, and this year it was released in print. I’m still excited to see my name on the front of the book…and inside. And, I’ve signed books. Yes, it’s true! I’ve signed dozens of books this year. But a couple of weeks ago, I got my first fan letter…from an unexpected reader.

#PleaseSayYes is book 1 in the 6 book #HermosaForTheHolidays series. It’s a sweet romcom. I wrote it for adults of all ages…think Hallmark movie. Sweet, light, hopefully a heartwarming read that might even make you laugh. And adults of all ages have read it, young single women, young mothers, a few men, and grandmothers into their 80’s have read this story, but what I didn’t expect was  kids reading the book after all it is a romance. I’ve had a review from a 12 year old, and my first fan letter was from a 9 year old girl. She wanted to share the book with her class.

So, of course, I’m sending her 6 books, so she can keep her copy. And what she doesn’t know, is that in the upcoming release of book 2 #SilverBracelets, she is a character in the story. I had so much fun including her, and I hope she enjoys it as much as I enjoyed receiving her letter.

One more fantasy to fulfill, to see my books in bookstores. I’m feeling pretty good about the dreams I’ve checked off, but I think the one I’ll treasure most is this letter from my young reader.

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I Want a Red Front Door

July 20, 2018 by in category A Bit of Magic by Meriam Wilhelm tagged as , , ,

I want to paint my front door red, or peacock-blue or maybe even black. I want to hang a swing in the middle of my office. Not one of those old, boring, wicker egg-shaped deals. I want a swing with a wide wooden seat that’s painted Tangerine Tango Orange. Oh, and the swing has to be suspended on long, thick oatmeal colored macramé ropes that are soft to the touch. Of course, my swing must be hung in a fashion that allows me ample room to pump my long legs so I can stretch my toes up towards my ceiling. And speaking of ceilings, I also want to add a skylight or two to my office, so I can see the stars while I’m enjoying my evening swing.

While I’m heading through my list of wants, I want to create the perfect fashion line that will of course be featured in the next Vogue Magazine and worn by Oprah, Emma and Reese. I wish to build a massive teak table for my office that’s big enough for me to lay out yards of fabric and tons of books I’ve yet to read by authors I’ve never heard of. I want to speak three more languages, be known as an expert on healing crystals and travel to Australia.

For a woman in her sixties I still have a lot of wants, desires and dreams. But my front door will probably remain white, my office is too small for a large table, let alone a swing. And since there is a second story comfortably resting on top of my home office – the sky lights are out. I’m creative and I do sew, but not well enough to ever be featured as a designer in any magazine. I speak English and a bit of Spanish, know a smidgen about healing crystals and have never been to Australia.

So how do I not despair and continue to power through my life with such a big list of unfulfilled dreams? I imagine, envision, research, fantasize, visualize and then… I write. In short, I give life to my dreams when I tell my stories.

When I write, I control my whole world. I have the power to bring life to any desire, curiosity or interest I might have. My characters can be fashion designers, carpenters or creative entrepreneurs. They can be rich, curious, beautiful, provocative, engaging, powerful, sarcastic, brilliant, silly or any other quality I might wish to paint them with. I’m not confined by financial restrictions, time, geography, ability, language, knowledge or skills. All of these can be addressed with a some hard-core research and quick run of my fingers across my computer keyboard. My only limitations are those created within my mind.

That’s one of the reasons why writing sometimes makes me feel giddy with power. I can do or be anything through the manipulation of words. I can paint my front door any color, have my own swing, become a famous fashion icon or anyone else that my imagination so desires. Rather than growing frustrated with my earthly limitations, I simply find the words to experience my desires through the stories I write. Even if I can’t actually physically have it all, I can imagine what it would be like.

I love to pick out something that seems totally unattainable and bring it to fruition through the plot, setting and characters who live in my stories. And since I write about the paranormal world, I have even greater freedom to pretend.

It’s all rather magical and I love it.

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