Dreamer - February 11, 2011

 I’m bobbing off. Letting my head sway from side to side. Now floating into the darkness. No, not floating, not anymore. Just falling. A piercing sound fills the air, it’s coming from me. It makes me feel like I’m drowning. That’s when it hits me, I am drowning. I panic, and start swimming for the surface, thrusting my arms out in front of me. I don’t know which way is up, and I am running out of breath. Losing consciousness… water is filling my lungs. But water can’t be filling me up, or drowning me. Because there is no water. I sit up straight, and look out at the desert around me. I drop back down into a lying position and roll over, hitting a cactus with my arm. Another piercing sound comes from me, this time full of pain, instead of fear. It makes me mad, and I thrash out at the sand in full-blown fury. But instead of hitting the sand, I hit a tree. Clunk. My arms miss the tree and I hit it with my head instead. The crash causes me to fall down, onto the crackling, dying, leaves. I groan and look up, expecting to meet the blinding sunlight. But the forest canopy is protecting me. I shake it off and stand up, ready with the urge to run. I rear back and then shoot forward, bolting ahead so fast; I would have thought I was beating time itself, in a race. With my arms flowing out behind me, I resemble a ribbon, caught in an autumn breeze. I look around me, while the world shoots past. Despite my tremendous speed, I manage to focus on all the beautiful oranges and yellows surrounding me. I skid to a stop, spread my arms out, and start twirling in place. Making the world a very dizzy place, with blurred colors. I hit a rock, and lose my balance, causing me to land face-first into the pure white snow. This makes me smile; I love winter. I roll onto my back and begin to make a snow-angel. But as I just found out, it’s kind of hard to make a snow-angel on a carpet. The carpet feels fuzzy and I roll around on it, laughing with delight. I like the softness of it on my bare feet. I eventually start to get up, and get hit with a killer headache. I ignore it, and look around at the room I’m in. That’s when I realize it’s my room. I sigh from exasperation and plump down onto my bed, curling up. I rest my head on my knees and shut my eyes. I wish to go back into the wonderful, irresistible, and enchanting world of dreams.

-Vera Willemsen