Lois Lowry's Blog



Posted by Lois Lowry
Lois Lowry
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on Monday, 14 September 2009 in Uncategorized

I returned from San Francisco Saturday night, arriving home yesterday morning, which meant a lost day yesterday as I napped and dozed while watching the US Open.  In SF, a favorite city of mine, I ate too much, in wonderful restuarants, with good friends and also with my daughter and her friend Steve,  Eat eat eat.  And I went shopping for things I didn't need, with my friend Janet, an artist who knows all the most interesting stores. Spend spend spend.

The reason I mentioned eating and spending is because I came home to find the packet containing information about the Afghani woman whom I have agreed to sponsor through the organization called Women for Women International.  (www.womenforwomen.org)

Fatima  is 36 years old. Married. Four children, one of whom goes to school.   She herself has no education whatsoever.  She cannot read or write. She lives in a house with no electricity or water.  She has no medical care for her children.


I will keep her photo on my desktop so that I look into those eyes every day as I consider whether to click the "BUY NOW" button on various bookmarked websites. The world is so unfair in ts disparities. I hope I can make a small difference in this woman's life.

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Kristi Monday, 29 November 1999

I prefer Jung for dream interpretation. In a boiled-down, condensed version, Jung has a few basic ideas: (1) Every character in the dream (and even significant inanimate objects, for example the church) represent an aspect of yourself. (2) You are the most qualified person to interpret your own dreams, though turning to others for help with symbology makes sense because (3) dreams speak to us symbolically. In my own experience, dreams speak to us with emotion as well, so if you have a dream and wake very happy, it would have to be interpreted differently than having the same dream and waking from it very anxious or sad. Your dream sounds like it was fun.

Rockinlibrarian Monday, 29 November 1999

Oh, this post just calls for me to tell you about the dream I had about YOU last summer. I dreamed that you were my 11th grade English teacher, and you assigned me to write 2000 pages about life in outer space, fruit bats, or college students-- possibly they all fit together somehow, but I'm not entirely clear how. No, I haven't written those pages!
But dreams are what inspired me to start writing my own stories in the first place: between the ages of 7 and 12, practically everything I wrote that wasn't a school assignment was based on a dream I had. Nowadays I keep an occasional dream journal for all the times I wake up thinking that I'd just dreamed a wonderful book, and of course it never is as wonderful once I try to write down what was so great about it, but I do have a collection of cool little ideas that I think COULD find there way into a proper story someday....

Dorothy Menosky Monday, 29 November 1999

Well, the first part of your dream novel had me hooked. I liked the lady living in the church and putting together a newspaper for the congregation. I thought the weekly stories of different members would be lovely. (Kind of like the Mitford series). But when she turned into an Enquirer reporter, you lost me.
I still think you have the beginnings.

Lois Lowry Monday, 29 November 1999

Mitford! Yes! I couldn't remember the name.
But didn't even they have a few mild scandals?

ojimenez Monday, 29 November 1999

In the dream he holds a rifle, he aims, he fires. The instant he fires, he wakes.
The morning headliner is an explosion with hundreds killed.
Two weeks go by. He dreams again. he aims, he fires, he wakes.
Headline: Plane crashes, no survivors.
A week goes by. Same dream, he fires, he wakes.
Headline: Gunman on rampage at a mall.
Every other day now, he dreams. He fires, he wakes,
and unusual tragedies happen.
He sleeps, he dreams, he fires, he wakes, people die.
He fears his dream causes death. He's afraid to sleep.
Four days go by with sleep impeded by narcotics.
The fifth day he surrenders to sleep. He dreams, he fires, he does not wake.
The headline:
"Man jumps to his death from four-story window"
..... his mug is on the page.
"..for in that sleep of death what dreams may come"

libraryhungry Monday, 29 November 1999

This exact same thing happened to me. I had a dream that would have made the BEST movie. In it, Kevin Costner is a man on the run, and he's protected by this pack of about 20 mongrel dogs that follows him everywhere, often overwhelming gunmen by sheer force of numbers (ie. puppy pile, no biting).
Yes, that's it. In my sleep, this was the best idea EVER. I'm glad I'm not the only one whose sleeping self has very low standards.
I will say, though, I have also dreamed some pretty good stories, too. I keep them tucked away for a rainy day.

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