Dream Mountain

Set in the early 50’s, the Cole family lives in a way that most lived at that time. Money was scarce, and most folks just had the necessities. They were country to say the least, but that’s not where it stopped. Elizabeth (Lizzy) Cole, the main charactor of "Dream Mountain," had a dream. Looking up at the mountain that was clearly visible from her rickety front porch, she believed that colossal mound God created, was nothing less than magical. Oddly enough, instead of picking out a star from the sky to wish upon, she’d look up at that massive hill, and wish over and over for things she didn’t have. Then, little by little, day after day, she didn’t have a clue what would happen next.

A mysterious stranger walks into her life, unannounced, but still, to Lizzy’s liking. After that, it seemed one wish after another began to come true, except for one. She’d found someone who loved her, whom she loved just the same, but her clothes were still ragged and she still lived in an old cabin they had all learned to call home. Then again, what has money got to do with anything? With many surprises, and totally pure as in the ways of that time, Lizzy learns one lesson she’ll never forget. That mountain she gazes at each night just might have some power, but there’s something that has even more power than that...the unknown. In the end, she realizes, along with her family, what a dream really feels like as it becomes a reality, and no matter what, to Lizzy, that amazing sight she looks at constantly, would always be her dream mountain... nothing more... nothing less

Born in 1968 in Arkansas, Tammy D. Thompson always had two dreams. One, was to become a singer, the other, was to become a published author. Even though, as a young adult, both seemed impossible, her determination never stopped. As far as the singing went, she would sing here and there when she could, but writing came even more natural. Sometimes it would take something extremely happy or extremely sad to get her juices flowing to where she could put powerful words on paper, but she never stopped doing that. There was no middle of the road when it came to the emotional aspect of writing.

After years of writing, finishing her first novel, knowing it wasn’t her best piece of work, she jumped in once more, to write "Buried, But Not Forgotten." Again, failure seemed to follow her. Feeling almost worthless, she gave up on all of it. Then one day, she got the news that a friend of hers took the liberty in finding a publisher who would take her work. To put her happiness into words, would be literally impossible, but, she once more tried to make it work.

To her surprise, "Buried, But Not Forgotten," did far better than she ever imagined, and in the process, she finished another novel, so very different from the first, called, "Dream Mountain."

Letting quite a few people read it, the input she got was massive, so much, that she started on a sequel to that book.

Ms. Thompson let depression from rejection get her down for a while, but in the end, she learned something. Any talent you were born with, is worth giving your all to, and if there was anything in the world she was talented at, it was putting words together to create something powerful, something emotional, and something everyone wants to read. That’s where it stands. Still wanting to help anyone who could use her help, she has vowed never to get discouraged again, but instead, try even harder. "If you believe, it’s possible."

At night I never could seem to tear myself away from viewing the beautiful mountains that surrounded my home. The sounds of the countryside were so uplifting. The crickets chirped almost continuously and you could hear the owls from a distance playing their own little melody of the wild. It was hypnotizing to the soul. At least that's the way I always looked at it. I don't know. Maybe it's the way the trees looked all clustered together like they were just running into one another. Or maybe the white tops of the mountains helped keep my focus on things. Neither here nor there, it was my place. It was my dream mountain.

"Elizabeth Ann. What'cha doin' out there darlin'. It's gettin' chilly out. Ya best come in and get ready for bed before the mesquitos try to eat ya up. And you know they will," Ma said.

Glancing out once more, I answered, "Comin' Ma. Be there in a minute."

Stepping off the front steps of our small, rundown, four room shack we called home, I closed my eyes and pretended I was dressed in a beautiful, white, lacy evening gown, walking down a huge winding staircase. The breeze brushing across my cheeks was soothing and almost went clear through my body, taking me away to how I wished things were. I was tired of being a poor country girl. That's why I let my dreams wander. It was the only thing that made me smile-the hope that one day those dreams just might come true. Then I heard Ma yell for me again, "Lizzy get in this house. Now you know how I hate to tell ya somethin' twice."

Hesitating no more, I quickly ran inside to join the rest of the family. Pa was sitting on the couch with a beer in one hand and a cigar in the other, while Douglas, my youngest brother, was begging to go out. It was almost like I could hear the fight coming. It was a constant battle between them two. One minute things would be so calm, and the next, them two would be at it again.

Then there was Luther, my other brother. He was sitting in the corner of the room trying to ignore the bickering going on between Pa and Douglas. Him and Douglas were nothing alike. In fact, if you ask me, it's hard to believe them two were even related. Douglas was wild as a march hair, and Luther was the quiet intellectual type, if you know what I mean. He read all the time and spent most his weekends writing short stories and poetry and stuff like that-a bookworm I guess you could say. To be honest, Luther was probably the most sane one in the family--next to me that is. We always seem to relate to one another in a strange sort of way. Maybe we were both dreamers. And maybe we knew deep down inside that if we stuck together, we'd get a lot further in life than trying to figure things out all alone. So that's what we did-stuck together.

With all the commotion going on, I started to my room, well, I guess you could say it was my room. I shared it with my two brothers and my sister Betty Jean. Douglas was a little hard to live with-always making crazy noises every night just to annoy us, but Betty Jean, Luther and I, were kind of alike. Betty Jean was probably most like me. She was a year older than me. She had graduated the year before and she worked every day after that as a car hop at a local burger place so she could go off to college. She didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life at the time, but she used to tell me constantly, "I'm not gonna live with Ma and Pa forever. I'm gonna be somebody one day Lizzy...not just some ole' country girl with no money, no education to speak of, and just a plain nobody." And I believed her. I had no reason not to. Her confidence was inspiring. I knew she'd never give up on her dream just like I knew I'd never give up on mine.

I always envied her. She had brains, no doubt, and her looks didn't hurt none either when it came down to getting what she wanted. Her hair was golden as pure honey, and those eyes of hers attracted boys from here to yonder. I never did understand how she did it. She never tried to get anyone's attention, but she didn't have to. People always seemed to notice her no matter what. I always seemed to be the one who was literally invisible. Maybe that was one of my biggest worries. Popularity never meant that much to me, but at the same time, every once in a while, it would've been nice to be noticed. My confidence, unlike Betty Jean's, was certainly lacking. That's why I so enjoyed having long talks with her. Somehow it gave me a feel of belonging, as if someone really needed me. Well, Betty Jean needed me, even if no one else did. That meant a lot to me, more than she ever really knew. She was my sister, but more importantly, she was my friend.