Blue Dreams

By L.A. Wolfe

All the swimming pools in Vanessa's neighborhood join to make the ocean. There's a beach and people play volleyball. She is a cheerleader and there is a boyfriend. The something horrible never happened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L.A. Wolfe
• Release date: Mar 20, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370555086

L.A. Wolfe

“We're all characters.” – Marianne from "Blue Dreams"L.A. Wolfe is a freelance writer living in North Carolina. When she's not working on a story, she enjoys doing Pilates with her husband. (She counts her blessings to be able to walk after a sixty-minute class). The Avocado Grove Emily is a collection of short fiction available on smashwords.com. Blue Dreams and Fanciful Friends are short stories. She currently writes flash fiction and has a collection due out next year. She blogs at The Avocado Grove, www.theavocadogrove.blogspot.com.

Book preview

Blue Dreams

By

L.A. Wolfe

Blue Dreams

By L.A. Wolfe

Copyright 2017 L.A. Wolfe

Discover other titles by L.A. Wolfe

The Avocado Grove Emily

Smashwords Edition, License notes

Thank you for downloading this e-book.  You are welcome to share it with your friends.  This book may be reproduced, copied, and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.

To Marty, Ashley, and Noah

Table of Contents

Blue Dreams

About This Story

The Avocado Grove Emily by L.A. Wolfe

The Avocado Grove Blog

Dreams/Nightmares/Dreaming Nightmares

It’s hot outside.  Maybe I’m delirious.  I don’t live in a house anymore.  We’re in a condo.  All the swimming pools join to make the ocean – the beach and seagulls too.  People play volleyball.  The breeze is good here. 

August 15

Powers Cross Resort

8 a.m.  Hungry

My name is Vanessa.  You don’t need to know my last name.  Plus, if anybody I know ever found this journal, I’d have to change my whole identity.

I used to be fit and eat wheatgrass for breakfast.  This morning I stuff down two bacon and egg breakfast sandwiches.  I’m still a natural blond, but it’s been almost every color except green.

This is my first day at Marianne’s.  She doesn’t understand I’m a few frames behind, since prom.

When she talks about Don, I shove my purse across the countertop in her kitchen away from a tangled mess of stuff – kitchen gear and cartons of what look like last night’s take-out.  She stops talking about men.  But I have a separate conversation with another mom, Waterpark Mom.  And I can’t smell the beer Marianne had for breakfast or hear about what almost happened with Don last night.  Waterpark Mom asks about the kinds of food we’re eating on our lunch date today and about the English class I’m starting at the college in a couple of weeks.

And where did you get that bag, at the fair?  Wasn’t it last weekend? She asks.

I see what she means about the bag, it looks handmade with a denim