The Perfect Property Dream

“So erm… this one then?”
We were at a house viewing, and this one was just perfect. I’d never been in a more beautiful house: pristine white walls and ceiling, a plush white fluffy carpet beneath us; a gorgeous wrought iron spiral staircase with intricately carved dragons winding up its bars; a traditional piano besides the stairs, and a ridiculously tall sofa upon which we were sat. Like seriously, my feet were a metre off the ground…
The lighting was fantastic too – grand chandeliers tinkling droplets of light down the sides of the open plan room. There were lights shaped like Calla lilies facing down from the heavens. It was perfect.
But it was a seven bedroom house. We counted a list in our heads and we didn’t have five other people who wanted to live with us. But we didn’t want to lose this house.
“Ooo, does it have a pool?” I said aloud. I jumped off of the sofa, and could see through the big glass doors that there clearly was. This too, was beautiful. Clear, pale blue water in a large decked pool. I stepped out onto the decking to get a closer look.
Something stirred. I turned to see a figure beneath a duvet on a sun lounger. I heard the words, “1.1 million.” The woman sat up and stared at us. I started backing up towards the house. The house that was supposed to be empty for our viewing. Then I saw the gardener looking at us too. He looked odd. Not a normal kind of odd, but a pale, ill, about to keel over kind of odd.
I went back inside. “Let’s look upstairs, shall we?” I said. We climbed the spiral staircase until we came to what felt like an entirely different house.
A diary entry came into my mind: “Before I’d even ascended I could smell the sweet scent of apples.”
And I could. I could also remember the fate of the famous hand that wrote the diary entry.
The upstairs of the house was like the barn conversion before the conversion. It just looked like the upstairs of a barn. Except instead of bundles of hay, there were crates upon crates of Golden Delicious apples.
Two women in 1950s style uniforms were painting the apples. In a mixture of paint and apple juice, they were painting the green apples greener. It made them look more like the fake fruit you find in furniture shops.
The estate agent clambered up the stairs to see how we were getting on. The women offered him an apple, smiling cruelly.
He thanked them and took a big bite out of it. We held our breath.
But nothing happened. He said it was delicious, that it tasted more like an apple than any apple he’d ever eaten. We facepalmed.


Happy Birthday To Me!

Or rather, happy birthday to my blog. Yay! I didn’t know, but WordPress just informed me:


Thank you to everyone who has viewed, liked, followed and commented on my blog over the past year. It may seem like the smallest of things, but it truly is the encouragement I need to keep posting! So with all my heart, a big thank you to you all.

I’m now nearing the middle of my third year at University, and I’m starting to get into panic mode. By this blog’s year and a half anniversary, I shall be free to write anything I want again. How scary is that! But that means I’ll have more time to work on ClaireBearThoughts, so watch this space (though don’t watch it yet, you’ll get bored. I said a few months, damnit).

Anyway, for now I’m going to leave you with my personal favourite #FPs from the past year. Enjoy!

Much love,
Claire ❤







The Struggles of a Businesswoman Dream

I was at the forefront of all businesswomen. I changed jobs regularly, but I was always amongst the best in my field.
Some days I was one of the best estate agents. Whilst looking around a posh, snobby woman’s house, apparently to take pictures and help sell it, I ended up in her bathtub, playing with her expensive Bodyshop products.
She had literally every product of each set. I decided if I was as rich as her I’d have all the Bodyshop products too. Just because I could.
I started applying some of the eyeliner, which was more difficult than it sounds because it was in a massive tub. No brush. So I applied it with a finger, right into my eye.
Another product was simply called “Fudge,” and its slogan was, “good enough to eat.” So I did. I ate it. And fair play, it did taste like fudge.
The woman came into the bathroom to see me eating her make-up and bath products.
Needless to say I was fired.

The next job I secured was the head of a crab meat distribution company. They needed my signature on the contract, but I wasn’t sure… there were way too many boxes of live crabs in my garden for me to feel comfortable. We were meant to deliver a box per company… and I had three thousand boxes. And the numbers were still rising. No matter where I went, I was surrounded by box upon box of crustaceans.

I threw down the contract and ran away.

As I was running, I was practically rugby tackled by this huge guy. He was wearing a bloodied butcher’s apron, was bald and dirty. I recognised him instantly. I had already killed him three times.
Clearly my professional businesswoman disguise hadn’t worked, because he was here to try and kill me again.
I didn’t think I’d have a fourth time lucky. He already had his instrument of torture in his hand; a pizza cutter. He started running it over my skin, drawing blood. I started crying.
“You ain’t gonna trick me this time, no Sir.” he muttered, more to himself than me. He listened to my pleas as he carried on cutting up my skin. “Actually,” he grinned, and put the pizza cutter into my hand. “You can cut yourself up.”
I thought he was being stupid again, but I knew I couldn’t do much damage to him with a pizza cutter. He guided my hand, drawing red lines all over my body.
It was lucky that at that moment my PA stumbled across the scene, a box of crabs in his arms. He threw the box at the guy on top of me, who fell over with surprise as he was covered in angry crabs. The crabs began to pinch his skin and he yelped. They didn’t hurt me. They saw me as their queen.

The Living Crystal Dream

Double whammy of dreams! I had two last night. The first one involved Zombies of a sort. The second involved me being a maintenance Squib in Hogwarts. Here is the first:

We were in a sort of laser quest style sci-fi building. It was dark and eerily quiet in there, but there was a big group of us, so I felt safe. I had a real laser gun in my hands, the only one of us in the party with laser charges left. I was shooting at the grills in the walls as we were supposed to. One had a light blue crystal forming over it. I shot it and it smashed, giving me a bonus.
I wasn’t quite sure what that bonus was until I started hearing the others. They were talking without moving their mouths. I could hear their thoughts.
They looked at me questioningly, waiting for me to tell them what I’d received. I shrugged and said it must have been a points boost. I think they believed me.
We wandered around aimlessly for a bit, but this place seemed to be deserted. Nothing to fight at all. This was a strange level.
We came across another crystal. This one was purplish black, and it throbbed with energy over the air vent. I shot it as usual, but nothing happened. The laser bounced off the crystals and rebounded back over our heads.
We looked at the crystal. Steve, one of the taller guys, reached up and touched it.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Part of the crystal disappeared, but a purplish black crystalline scar seared his side. He screamed in agony. The last scream he’d ever utter, but I still heard his pain in his mind. We saw the crystal mutating his flesh, purple lines winding themselves up his neck until his eyes flashed purple.
The man who looked at us wasn’t Steve anymore.
He grabbed the arm of the nearest girl and squeezed. The purple lines shot up her arm and she too screamed. The girl’s boyfriend tried to pull her away from the monster, but now his flesh was connected too. The rest of us stared in horror at such a quick turnaround. We’d been winning…
Our now dwindled number ran. We ran until we reached a large, open room. Already some of the crystallised dead were roaming in here. And they had seen us.
But I’d seen something else too. Straight ahead was the winning crystal. Unlike any of the previous ones we’d destroyed or consumed, this one was a diamond. The prize for beating the map, and our ticket to getting the hell out of here.
I looked at the others and we nodded in silent agreement. We ran. It didn’t matter about teamwork now. It was every man for himself. I saw two of our party go down instantly, but they were only stragglers. I only cared about two of them, and wanted them to make it with me.
But they had been taken to.
I was the only one left.
Only now I was surrounded by a room full of zombies. I closed my eyes, accepting defeat.
Until I heard them thinking. I heard what each and every zombie was thinking, and what they were going to do. I smiled. I ran at the crowds blocking my path to the exit, and elbowed the first in the face. One lunged at my throat, but I anticipated it and dodged. More and more attacked me, but each time I punched, elbowed, kicked and rugby tackled my way out.
I broke free. The crystal was right ahead of me. The zombies picked up their pace now, scrabbling frantically to touch my exposed flesh. But they were too late. I reached out, and felt the hard, smooth edge of the diamond…

The Omnipotent, Magical Signpost of Protection Dream

When mum and dad when on holiday, mum didn’t come back. For weeks I hated my dad, blamed him for her refusal to return. But then one day she walked through the door as if nothing had happened.
Even my nan was there to be angry with her for abandoning us. Mum just shrugged her shoulders a lot and said she’d needed a break. To be fair she did look a lot better. But after that I blamed her.
I went back to Uni once I knew she was home and safe. There was this huge Halloween party, and I had gone all out on my costume. I was covered in sticky black spider webs, a purple banner with ‘Happy Halloween’ written on it, and a poofy black dress.
The party was mediocre. But then I’ve never really been a party person. I left early and began peeling the webs off of my skin. I stuck them round a signpost, then put the banner on top. The signpost began to glow like it had fairylights on it when there weren’t any. I stared at the sign for a while, but thought nothing of it. Kind of an, “oh that’s cool” moment.
I sat in my room and stared into space. There was a knock on my door. My flatmate walked in. She said, “can’t you hear that?” I listened. I heard the sound of a roaring fire and alarms not far from us.
“It sounds worse than last time,” she moaned. I sighed and nodded. I got up and started pushing all of my possessions through the window. Luckily we were in a ground floor flat this year.
People walking past my window looked at me in confusion. “Don’t you dare,” I warned them, and surprisingly they carried on without taking my stuff.
My room was completely empty by the time the fire claimed the building. But it didn’t have to be. My room, surprisingly, magically, remained unburned. Don’t ask me how, but the signpost I had absent-mindedly decorated on my way home, had been grateful for the sprucing up. It had loved its new outfit, and so given my home protection from the oncoming fire.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the omnipotent, magical signpost of Protection!
…My dreams aren’t usually this weird, are they? Even I admit this one’s odd…

(And I don’t know what it is about me and fire/explosions occurring in my halls of residence. This is the third dream I’ve had where it happens. I’m not an unconscious arsonist, really I’m not!)

#FP Volume 7

The past three weeks of #FP, with themes such as ‘Tweets from the Bar’ and ‘Descent into Depravity.’

Theme my rubbish memory has forgotten:




Tweets from the Bar:



Descent into Depravity:



Follow me at @ClaireBearKH, and find other awesome writers with the hashtag #FP.
To see the themes for each Friday, visit