Dreams can come true
You're dreaming, but inside you know you're awake.
You're near a small airpline, maybe some flight school because there seems to be a group of your peers around you, and the instructor, some figure in the background, tells you that you're up. You're in the cockpit, the driver's side, the one who's flying this damn winged creature.
Fear, of failure, of crashing and sinking beneath dangerous waters, freezes your soul and you decline quietly, resolute and firmly entrenched in fear that holds you down. Passenger side, you mutter. I'm ok with that.
People around you shrug their shoulders; someone else takes your place, takes your flight, and soon everyone is soaring on the sky, and you're still sinking somewhere, maybe inside yourself, in the seat next to the pilot.
Not long passes when you're not crashing within anymore with the things you create inside yourself; it's happening now, fast. It's real, falling from the sky into the waters. The plane, the passengers, there's silent screaming. Who would have known that perhaps you were supposed to prevent this.
And then, something else amid the panic of real sinking, of the waters pulling you and the plane and the people down. This...sea creature asleep on the bottom of the ocean floor. Gigantic, slumbering, anciet. Ravenous upon it being startled, the struggle for survival is on.
You rally the folks left, the plane somehow is still afloat. Grab what you can, you shout. STROKE. Get to the shore. STROKE. WATCH OUT FOR IT!
It's all a dream, you realize, the moment the creature swallows you and the others almost whole. Inside it's mouth you still fight. Don't let it close on us! You struggle to keep it open.
Why are you fighting now, preventing this, when maybe you really didn't have to in the first place. You ask yourself this and you remember. Eyes shut, you're awake and feel the fear tremble. Evaporating outside of your body. As if you were so full of it, it had to erupt.
This is your dream.
It must be true.
You're near a small airpline, maybe some flight school because there seems to be a group of your peers around you, and the instructor, some figure in the background, tells you that you're up. You're in the cockpit, the driver's side, the one who's flying this damn winged creature.
Fear, of failure, of crashing and sinking beneath dangerous waters, freezes your soul and you decline quietly, resolute and firmly entrenched in fear that holds you down. Passenger side, you mutter. I'm ok with that.
People around you shrug their shoulders; someone else takes your place, takes your flight, and soon everyone is soaring on the sky, and you're still sinking somewhere, maybe inside yourself, in the seat next to the pilot.
Not long passes when you're not crashing within anymore with the things you create inside yourself; it's happening now, fast. It's real, falling from the sky into the waters. The plane, the passengers, there's silent screaming. Who would have known that perhaps you were supposed to prevent this.
And then, something else amid the panic of real sinking, of the waters pulling you and the plane and the people down. This...sea creature asleep on the bottom of the ocean floor. Gigantic, slumbering, anciet. Ravenous upon it being startled, the struggle for survival is on.
You rally the folks left, the plane somehow is still afloat. Grab what you can, you shout. STROKE. Get to the shore. STROKE. WATCH OUT FOR IT!
It's all a dream, you realize, the moment the creature swallows you and the others almost whole. Inside it's mouth you still fight. Don't let it close on us! You struggle to keep it open.
Why are you fighting now, preventing this, when maybe you really didn't have to in the first place. You ask yourself this and you remember. Eyes shut, you're awake and feel the fear tremble. Evaporating outside of your body. As if you were so full of it, it had to erupt.
This is your dream.
It must be true.