powerful ancestors in our lineage, including Netta’s line. I don’t know why people continually test us, when everyone knows how bad our house is. When will they learn not to mess with the Williams women?
“Challenges fortify us, Jayd. And when we stand up and face them—scared or not—we get stronger.” My mom’s right, because right now I feel invincible, even if it’s only a dream.
“I pay homage to you, Queen Jayd, and to all of the queens before and after you,” the man says, almost whispering, he’s sobbing so hard. “Now get out of my head, please.” My adversary’s pleading softens my heart and my gaze. I didn’t want to break him down and make him look like a punk. I just wanted him to leave me the hell alone.
“Ashe,” I say, acknowledging the spiritual energy flowing through my veins. I soften my visual grip, but not before I catch my reflection staring back at me through his weakened eyes. I look like a straight-up warrior woman, reminiscent of the pictures I’ve seen of our ancestor, Queen Califia. My samurai attire is gone and I’m now wearing a cutoff skirt and sleeveless shirt, my tattoos and scars from battle and other initiations prominently displayed. My most striking feature—other than my glowing eyes—is my crown. Made of peacock feathers, it sits boldly on my head, similar to the ones that the Native American dancers wore at the school for last year’s culture fest. What the hell?
“Jayd, wake up, girl. You’re talking in your sleep again,” Mama says, shaking me awake. Ever since my sleepwalking incidents not too long ago, my grandmother has been more watchful of me while I sleep. I look around our dark room and come to, ready to talk about the experience I just had in my spiritual dreamworld. But Mama quickly returns to her bed to sleep. I guess I’ll have to wait until daylight to get this dream off my chest.
I’m so glad it’s Friday I don’t know what to do. This has been one of the most challenging weeks I’ve had at South Bay, and that’s saying a lot, considering all of the drama I go through around here on a regular basis. And today was no exception. I turned in all of my Friday assignments and tried to stay as quiet as possible in my classes for the entire day. It worked well, but I’m sure I lost a few participation points here and there, especially in English class.
Mrs. Malone didn’t take too kindly to me bowing out of our discussion on John Updike, which I was so passionate about in Monday’s class. But I said all I had to say for the week about rich bitches thinking they own the world, including Charlotte, the one I sit across from in second period. Mrs. Malone can read about the rest of my thoughts in my paper abstract, which was also due today.
Mrs. Malone did bring up a valid point, which I may argue with my pen instead of my mouth. Charlotte spoke again about the validity of dreaming and, as usual, she pointed to her daddy’s work for evidence that dreams are the imagination’s way of staying active while asleep. I damn sure wasn’t going to admit out loud to finding any truth in her argument, but she did have a good point. My imagination gets quite a workout when I dream.
Since I awoke from my dream this morning, my sight has been tripping. I’m used to having very vivid dreams, of course. But being able to again see as Mama and Maman see, scared me a little. Being able to conjure the powers in my lineage was something I thought had been reserved for my forced dream-walk through Misty’s mind on Valentine’s Day. With Mama’s help and my mom’s guidance I was able to walk through Misty’s dreams and undo all of her evil wishes. I unwove the twisted reality she created with the help of my ancestors and their collective vision powers, especially Maman’s. But I don’t think I’m supposed to be able to still use their powers, whether I’m dreaming about them or not. I’ll have to ask Mama about that when I get to Netta’s
“Challenges fortify us, Jayd. And when we stand up and face them—scared or not—we get stronger.” My mom’s right, because right now I feel invincible, even if it’s only a dream.
“I pay homage to you, Queen Jayd, and to all of the queens before and after you,” the man says, almost whispering, he’s sobbing so hard. “Now get out of my head, please.” My adversary’s pleading softens my heart and my gaze. I didn’t want to break him down and make him look like a punk. I just wanted him to leave me the hell alone.
“Ashe,” I say, acknowledging the spiritual energy flowing through my veins. I soften my visual grip, but not before I catch my reflection staring back at me through his weakened eyes. I look like a straight-up warrior woman, reminiscent of the pictures I’ve seen of our ancestor, Queen Califia. My samurai attire is gone and I’m now wearing a cutoff skirt and sleeveless shirt, my tattoos and scars from battle and other initiations prominently displayed. My most striking feature—other than my glowing eyes—is my crown. Made of peacock feathers, it sits boldly on my head, similar to the ones that the Native American dancers wore at the school for last year’s culture fest. What the hell?
“Jayd, wake up, girl. You’re talking in your sleep again,” Mama says, shaking me awake. Ever since my sleepwalking incidents not too long ago, my grandmother has been more watchful of me while I sleep. I look around our dark room and come to, ready to talk about the experience I just had in my spiritual dreamworld. But Mama quickly returns to her bed to sleep. I guess I’ll have to wait until daylight to get this dream off my chest.
I’m so glad it’s Friday I don’t know what to do. This has been one of the most challenging weeks I’ve had at South Bay, and that’s saying a lot, considering all of the drama I go through around here on a regular basis. And today was no exception. I turned in all of my Friday assignments and tried to stay as quiet as possible in my classes for the entire day. It worked well, but I’m sure I lost a few participation points here and there, especially in English class.
Mrs. Malone didn’t take too kindly to me bowing out of our discussion on John Updike, which I was so passionate about in Monday’s class. But I said all I had to say for the week about rich bitches thinking they own the world, including Charlotte, the one I sit across from in second period. Mrs. Malone can read about the rest of my thoughts in my paper abstract, which was also due today.
Mrs. Malone did bring up a valid point, which I may argue with my pen instead of my mouth. Charlotte spoke again about the validity of dreaming and, as usual, she pointed to her daddy’s work for evidence that dreams are the imagination’s way of staying active while asleep. I damn sure wasn’t going to admit out loud to finding any truth in her argument, but she did have a good point. My imagination gets quite a workout when I dream.
Since I awoke from my dream this morning, my sight has been tripping. I’m used to having very vivid dreams, of course. But being able to again see as Mama and Maman see, scared me a little. Being able to conjure the powers in my lineage was something I thought had been reserved for my forced dream-walk through Misty’s mind on Valentine’s Day. With Mama’s help and my mom’s guidance I was able to walk through Misty’s dreams and undo all of her evil wishes. I unwove the twisted reality she created with the help of my ancestors and their collective vision powers, especially Maman’s. But I don’t think I’m supposed to be able to still use their powers, whether I’m dreaming about them or not. I’ll have to ask Mama about that when I get to Netta’s
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