The phrase ‘Dream Farming’ came up in conversation this morning, so that’s what today’s prompt is. I am going to India in a few hours so this will be the last story I upload for 2 weeks. I’ll still be writing, and will take a photo of me and my story wherever I am on my travels to upload when I get back. See you soon!
The giant bags under her eyes looked as though they were carrying her guilt. The past year had been hard for Rosie. She was a dream farmer by birth. It was a meticulous craft only mastered by the finest artists. Her grandmother had taught her how to produce the finest quality crops. They had been the most prosperous farm in the district.
Imagination and ambition grew in excess on earth back then, but last year had been so barren Rosie’s crops had spoilt. She had scraped through the year by selling off the nightmares to a dodgy looking spirit.
Rosie had never imagined she would be in the nightmare industry. Wild nightmares would creep in through her windows at night and she would dream of the poor restless humans who had been given her spoilt crop.
One night, after a particularly haunting nightmare involving her grandmother, Rosie decided she had to change things. She forced herself to write down hundreds of cheerful and wondrous thoughts. It was slow work at first, but eventually they came naturally. She cut them up and planted each one in the rotation cloud beds.
To her surprise they began to grow. Word slowly spread, and rich spirits began to flock the farm, bidding ridiculous prices. Rosie took the highest bid and used the money to run classes for the neighbouring farmers. The more farmers she taught, the easier it was to farm good dreams. And the more good dreams they sold to earth, the easier it was to find imagination and ambition.
freyawrightbrough 