It was just a dream. I say this because I hate stories where, in the end, you find out none of it really happened. So I’m letting you know. It was just a dream. But still.
Somehow, I was back in sixth grade. There was a school trip to some museum or other. We had just come out of the building. The sun was still out, it was probably nearing summer, or not yet winter.
The museum was near the water. It might have been a river or bay or the ocean, even. But there was a low wall, with a substantial ledge, and quite a drop to the water below. Looking down, I could see the water slapping against jagged rocks, the spray bursting and falling.
Then we were on the ledge, my friends and I. You know how dreams are, you just sort of end up in places. You don’t really travel.
So we were on the ledge. Sitting. Our backs to the water.
Incredibly amazing work of art – watch how the story unfolds with just a few simple lines. (Also, the music is beautiful.)
Walking along in my dream
Living my dream
At twilight, more towards night than day
Walking among the clouds
Because they’ve fallen from the sky
To trap me
With their long, chilly fingers caressing my skin
As tendrils of miniscule droplets roll past the burning street lamps overhead
And headlights from passing cars pierce the gloom, or attempt to
They say to be careful what you wish for
And ain’t that the truth
Ever since I’d seen Aladdin and Jasmine holding fluffs of clouds on their magic carpet ride, I wanted to hold clouds too
Well, I got my chance
And the air was cool and chilled
And I had goosebumps on my arms and legs
And I walked ever so slightly faster
To escape my dream