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Mira may be a fictional character on a surface but she is very real in her heart. Her grammar may be imperfect at times but we wouldn’t dare to touch it, hope you will forgive us.

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I had an experience today. It wasn’t a big deal, but sort of was. So I have a friend, her name is Polly. I don’t think she is on the internet yet. I mean not much. You know how parents are against Facebook, which is good I think. Because Facebook sucks. But if you go and tell your parents that you want to have a blog, they wouldn’t mind I think. I mean all parents are different, but writing is sort of like reading, right? Even better. So give it a try and let me know how it goes if you have a chance.

What I was saying? The experience I had today, yes.

So Polly, my friend, couldn’t open a bottle of coke. You know sometimes they close the bottle like they don’t want anybody to open it. She tried and tried until her fingers hurt. And there was one guy, who I think likes Polly. I don’t think he is cool, but he thinks he is. So he said “Hey, need some help?” and Polly was a bit desperate already, but she said “No, no, thanks”, right? But he was like “Come on, let me help you out” and Polly got angry at him a bit, because when someone says “no” it means no. So she got angry and twisted the lid very hard and opened the bottle herself. And he had to get going. Now, imagine if he would open the bottle for her. First, they would become friends and stuff. Like in the movies. Second, the next bottle she would not even try opening. Because how would she know that she can do it by herself?

So, the moral is - do things by yourself and if you can’t do it, try again and again. And don’t let some guys helping you out unless they are really cool.

It reminds me of ballet, too. Fouette for example. You know what it is, right?

I couldn’t even dream of doing it before, but I tried and tried and now it’s not even a thing. I just do it without thinking. Same with reading. Remember how hard it was to read when you were like five? I don’t, but I guess it was. And now it’s so easy.

So, what I’m saying is that if you are doing things by yourself you can do them next time, and if you do them more it becomes easy. But if you don’t, then some not really cool guys will do it for you and I don’t think it’s a good thing.
— Mira

Tonight in my dream I was in elementary school, in a classroom alone. And I couldn’t leave. The door was locked. So I went to the window, and it was locked too. I wanted to call for help, but you see, I had no phone. I even thought in the dream “Where is my phone?” and actually felt it laying on a sofa. Don’t know how to explain. I was sort of having a second body, and it was the phone. So I went to get it somehow. A half of the classroom turned into the living room of my apartment and I took my phone, but couldn’t see the screen very well. It was like under water. And then I was in a whole classroom again.

I walked back and forth, and couldn’t make myself to yell for help. I felt shy about it. I mean what if nothing actually happened and I am making noise for no reason. Or maybe someone is joking and they locked me from the outside. I’m not going to make them happy. I know if I yell they would be happy for sure. So I thought “you can’t get me, I’m cool”. And sat on a teacher table. I heard a voice coming from underneath.

A woman said:

-How is it so tight?

I wasn’t surprised at all, because I’m cool, you know. So I said “Yes.” Now it sounds funny, but it was actually very strong at that moment. Just like “Yesss”. Not long, but very solid.

And a woman with a short blond hair crawled out from under the table. She looked like a teacher because she had glasses, and wore regular kind of cloth.

She asked me where is everybody. I said I don’t know. And I looked at her face very close. She reminded me of someone I knew very long time ago. Maybe someone’s mom, or like a kindergarten teacher or something.

She said she had papers to finish and extended her hand. I took her hand and it was very warm and wrinkled. It felt like an old ladie’s hand, but she weren’t old at all.

I asked what kind of papers she is talking about and she said that it’s school papers. She said there is an exam coming up. I asked something like “What exam? You are a teacher!”

And she looked at me and said “What do you think happens after you finish high school?” I tried to think about it, but it was a confusing question. Now if someone asks, I would say “go to the dancing school and master skills and become a ballerina”. But in the dream I am not myself a little bit. So I didn’t know what to say.

Then the woman took off her glasses and said seriously that after school there is another school and another school and it’s not a secret. I just never knew for some reason and everybody else knows about it. And I believed it. I had a weirdest feeling in my chest. Like it’s actually true that there are schools after schools and how can I forget. There was something else in that dream, but I don’t remember exactly.
— Mira

I forgot to tell you about my friend Lova. He looks like this:
I met him in a dream a long time ago. He is like a spirit. He can disappear and go with me anywhere. He also helps a lot. Lova is a dancer. Only not ballet, something else. I don’t know. I think he is making up his own kind of dance. I see Lova in my dreams very often.

So, today me and Lova were in a small house by the water. It was very early morning, before the sun rose. The mist was everywhere. I couldn’t see much. I mean, I could see the room and my hands very well, but outside of the window everything looked flat and one color. I never’ve been in such a house in my life. Not in a dream, not in a wake. So I just sat there looking out of the window for some time, and Lova was at my right, smiling as always.

Then he said:

-Mira, where are your pointes?

Don’t laugh here. I know, it looks like I’m crazy about ballet. So, I am, but I don’t see dreams about ballet every night. It just happened that the first dream I post is about ballet. Sort of. By the way, this is how I will make my comments to the dreams. Hope it’s okay.

So, he asked me where my pointes are. I thought about it for a moment and then got scared for some reason. I just felt that they were so important, and I lost them, you know.

Pointes actually are very important. I wouldn’t be happy if I lost my pointes in a wake. But I don’t think I would be that scared. I mean, in a dream it was so intense, like I lost something precious.

But Lova said:

-Why don’t you look in the box?

And I knew right away what he was talking about. So I went to the corner of the room. It was like a regular room with something red hanging on a wall. A carpet, I think.

There was a big box in the shadow in the corner. As soon as I touched it, I started to feel the air with my whole body. It was cold and like misty. I also felt the lid of the box. It was cold, too. I looked to my right and Lova was still there dancing with his feet a little bit. He moved his face up and down, too.

I knew, he meant to open the box. I felt the weight of the lid. It was heavy. I said to Lova “Can you help me?” or “How about to help me?” or something like this, and he flew back. He was like floating. I got upset about him, but I knew that I can open the lid myself now.

I tried again and it was so light and easy.

Now, I didn’t look much at what was in the box. I know I said that i remember my dreams very well, but this I don’t remember. It had things like clothing and stuff. There was also a smaller box, about the size of pointes. So, as you can imagine I took it and opened it right away.

And they were there. Only they looked very old, antique. And also, there was a little piece of paper, rolled like an ancient manuscript, only tiny. I looked into it and there was a name Mary and the year. This i remember very clear. It was 1632.

What does it mean?

I didn’t say it aloud, only thought. I turned around, but Lova wasn’t there. Something happened to the window. It grew in size and kind of had a different texture. I mean it kept the same image of the window, but it was like, I don’t know, like a sheet hanging with a window drawn on it, if that makes sense.

I walked to it, still holding a little box with pointes in my hand. It looked like an exit. Like I can step out into that mist. So I did, and I actually felt that mist very well. It was thicker than I thought it would be. I was walking into this cloud. The water was to my ankles. Very cold.

I don’t know why so many things in this dream are cold. Maybe i forgot to close the window before going to sleep. But that’s just a theory.

I walked through this mist for a very long time and heard voices, sounds like from a tv-show program with MC (very excited) and audience. Very quiet sounds. As soon as I understood what that was it stopped. And then I woke up. No, there was a small pause with no noise in that mist, for maybe like a few seconds, and then I woke up.
— Mira


My name is Mira. I am 12 years old and I’m a ballerina. I practice every day and I will become famous.

I see it like a picture in the future.

I am standing in a pose in front of millions of people and the music is playing.

I am going to be that picture. I know one day I will live it. The picture will become my life.

The other thing you need to know about me is that I often see very vivid dreams and I can always remember what I dreamed about. I asked my friends and they said they don’t remember any of their dreams, not even a little bit.

So I started to wonder if I was the only one that sees that kind of dreams, so I probably should start writing them down. Maybe it will become a book one day, who knows. And I will be a ballerina writer. Is that even a thing? I don’t know. I’ll have to make it, I guess.
— Mira