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Dream, Sweet Dreams of You
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DREAM, SWEET DREAMS OF YOU NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR: 1976 I was twenty-five when I wrote Dream, Sweet Dreams of You. I had just returned from a failed opportunity on the East Coast. My parents were living in Los Angeles, and they opened their doors to me to stay with them until I could figure out my next journey. My Grandmother, who was 80 years old, also lived with my parents. One late night, I was watching Johnny Carson, I was trying to get myself tired to get a good night's sleep. Because of my recent employment, I pretty much quit the job and lost all the self-esteem that I ever possessed. I ...
DREAM, SWEET DREAMS OF YOU NOTES FROM THE AUTHOR: 1976 I was twenty-five when I wrote Dream, Sweet Dreams of You. I had just returned from a failed opportunity on the East Coast. My parents were living in Los Angeles, and they opened their doors to me to stay with them until I could figure out my next journey. My Grandmother, who was 80 years old, also lived with my parents. One late night, I was watching Johnny Carson, I was trying to get myself tired to get a good night's sleep. Because of my recent employment, I pretty much quit the job and lost all the self-esteem that I ever possessed. I was depressed and didn't have any idea who I was. One night, I heard a back bedroom door open. During those days, everybody had carpet. However, my parents had original wood floors. I heard slippers shuffling, heading for the living room, It was my Grandmother, Rafella. She was wearing her fake silk pink bathrobe and came and sat next to me on the couch. I smiled at her and noticed that she was crying. I asked her why she was upset. She told me that she had a favor to ask of me. Of course, I told her anything. She started crying again and asked me if I would write her story. I smiled and told her that a good story must have diversity. She was way too lovable to have a good variability. She wiped her eyes and told me her life was full of diversity. It was a story of survival, love, and forgiveness. I loved my Grandmother, and of course, I told her I would write her story. It took us two years to come up with our first draft. The following novel is Rafella, Botiller, Vasquez, Ramirez's biography. It is a tale of love, survival, heartbreak, and, most importantly, forgiveness. She gave me her life, a basis for my identity, by introducing me to my past relatives, allowing me to love them, explore their success, and become a genuine family member. Because of my Grandmother, I have a legacy, hope, and a real sense of who I am.
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