To make a long story longer.

One year ago I convinced myself to start a blog. A domain name and a dream was all I could muster—it was as far as my courage would let me go. In the 11 months since, I have found reason after reason against putting my words on a public facing medium—after all, I’m not a writer. You see, twenty-two years ago, I acquired a degree in journalism, but never practiced it because another dream was born.

Jenny Castle has a knack to make a long story longer—spin a story to put a smile on your face. These are the tales of an extraordinarily ordinary life of a dreamer, a feeler, and sometimes make believer. In a little over one month I, Jenny Castle, will turn 45, and age has finally pushed this “late bloomer” into believing that I AM A WRITER—and this is my page.


It has been months since it last rained, and although the weather forecast did predict rain, I really didn’t expect it.

At about 3:00 a.m. I was woken out of a deep sleep—flashes of light through the window intermittently illuminated my bedroom. And commotion—there was definite commotion outside. This commotion is what had me in so much fear, why I was jolted out of sleep. My bedroom is in the back of the house—my back yard protected by locked gates. The sounds I heard are not all together foreign to me. I live on the west side of town and whirring helicopters are no strangers to my hood. I was deducing that this was an invasion, a person outside in my yard running from authorities. I needed to close the blinds, I needed to shelter myself from the view of a potentially armed and dangerous person. I jumped out of bed and pulled the cord of the blinds to release and lower them. At that precise moment I saw. In the flashes of helicopter spotlight a man was looking up at me from outside my window. Immediately, I hit the floor, scared for my life…

It was all a dream. From what I can guess, the lights and sounds of my dream were only the thunderstorm. I had all but forgotten those sounds in the increasing time between rain events due to the drought we have been having. It felt so real. I even heard the police demanding that the suspect put his hands up. That last part may be dialogue from the old COPS show I was bingeing the night before. Bad Boys. What are they gonna do when cops shine spotlights on them in Jenny’s back yard. What are you going to do when they come for you?


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