me pueden escribir un cuento en ingles con phrasal verbs que sea de fantasía, por favor muchas gracias, si me colaboran.
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The museum of dreams
This story will surely have others who will follow the story: you will guess why when you have read it.
That night I dreamed in the clouds: that was a good sign. The days I dream in clouds always happens something exciting and fun. At lunch, Dad gave me the big surprise that this weekend we would go to my grandparents' village. What fun!
On the drive I thought about what I was going to do first: take a bike ride, go to the bar with my cousin ... There were so many options ... Actually, the first thing I would have to do was undo the suitcase. In which the clothes that had appeared to have been compacted by the tread of a giant. I still do not understand how I could put the last clothes.
After storing everything in drawers, I went to my cousin's house. She waited expectantly on the fence of her garden.
"Hello, Alberto," he said. "Did you know they opened a museum in the village?" He announced. I was surprised at how quickly I opened the subject. She was usually more introverted. She must be willing to visit him.
That same afternoon we were walking towards the museum. When I reached that great door, I saw above it a sign that read: "Museum of Dreams". What did they mean by that? I took the latch and hit the door. Instantly a very small man opened the door.
That place had something magical. The lamps looked like atoms of colored lights. There were windows on the walls that did not open to the outside, but a landscape that could not exist seemed to emerge from them, very different from what it should have been. All of them were framed by frames and none had any glass. Underneath that was a name (of person) and a date on a gold poster.
I watched the animated pictures without much attention, until I decided to do what everyone did. I stuck my head in the landscape and appeared in a factory where there was a terrifying battle of science fiction, like Star Wars. I watched as a boy gave him a sure hit with a club on the head of a huge beast. I went back to the painting and went back to the museum, which I was beginning to like.
The question he had asked me to see the poster had been answered: those were the dreams of a multitude of children of the present and the past. I, in particular, had been in that of Michael Tubbs, who dreamed on March 10, 1982. That resolution made me ask another question: would there be any of my dreams?