good times never seemed so good
Usually I don't remember my dreams. Two nights ago, though, I dreamed for the first time of flying, the real kind. The kind that appears in books about dream analysis, and movies with dream sequences. Only, it wasn't like that at all. At first I was as landbound as I am in real life, moving around inside a building like an old Gothic cathedral or the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and the other kids there with me all had some kind of magical powers, but not me. Then, for some reason, I needed to get something from one of the ceiling beams - maybe balloons? And I looked at the balloons high above, and then at my feet on the floor, and I made myself light. I floated a little. Just a little, but I did it. Of course I promptly overbalanced out of surprise, but it didn't matter because I couldn't fall. I was light. I started spiraling up, in fits and starts, learning not to reach for the balance I didn't need any more, and by the time I reached the rafters, I could swoop. So I swooped all the way down to the floor, and back up again, and around and around the room, and finally I stopped at the highest point of the ceiling and just floated there, being light. Being exactly where I was in space for no other reason than that I wanted to be there.
If I thought for one second that I would ever be able to replicate that feeling in real life, I would never stop chasing it.
Immediately thereafter, because my subconscious does not believe in letting me be happy, there was some kind of crisis. I believe it featured tiny invaders who wished to take over people's bodies, or maybe just kill them. Anyway, they could only be staved off if we proved that we were better than they were in some kind of individual contest. Each person got to pick what their contest was, but if they lost, they fell down very slowly and silently, and when they got back up their eyes were empty and their cheeks were hollow. But even if you won the first contest, you had to choose another, and another, until almost everyone was gone. I woke up when I realized that I couldn't win forever.
If I thought for one second that I would ever be able to replicate that feeling in real life, I would never stop chasing it.
Immediately thereafter, because my subconscious does not believe in letting me be happy, there was some kind of crisis. I believe it featured tiny invaders who wished to take over people's bodies, or maybe just kill them. Anyway, they could only be staved off if we proved that we were better than they were in some kind of individual contest. Each person got to pick what their contest was, but if they lost, they fell down very slowly and silently, and when they got back up their eyes were empty and their cheeks were hollow. But even if you won the first contest, you had to choose another, and another, until almost everyone was gone. I woke up when I realized that I couldn't win forever.