Desk-topped dream
While I slept, an image appeared which reignited a passion. By Claire Guichard, 56
Hunched over an exercise book, I picked up my pen and began to scrawl. I loved writing stories and playing schools with my younger sister, Karina.
‘Look at this,’ I said to her later, handing her the book.
My imagination was brimming overthat day, after an earlier visit to see my dad. He lived out in the countryside and had a huge garden.
In the long grass, he’d discovered the grave of a horse called Taffy. And now I’d used this as a basis for a story about how Taffy’s ghost was striving to find its way home. ‘This is great,’ said Karina.
Time passed and, after I left school and began working, my passion for writing was forced to take a back seat.
I married Paul and was consumed with family life, raising four children. But I was intrigued by vivid dreams, some very disturbing which visited me during the night. What did they mean?
I visited a medium.
‘You’re psychic,’ she said, explaining that the dreams were all part of my gift. When the children grew older, I signed up for a writing course. Then one night, I had another vivid dream.
A bohemian lady with grey curly hair, a long, red-brown skirt and loose blouse floated before me. A shower of silver descended around me like a kaleidoscope, then the lady opened her mouth.
‘Awaken, doll,’ she instructed.
Looking down, I glimpsed a desk — a stylish, dark brown Edwardian one. A message?
When I woke, I knew exactly what the dream meant.
‘She’s telling me t
