Chrys
thewolvenhall
- Created
- 1 year, 11 months ago
- Creator
- AndyPelusa
- Favorites
- 39
Profile
Chrys
When I was a kid, I knew a guy who spent every recess picking clovers, looking for the ones with four leaves. He'd trade them for yellow 2B pencils. But only for special ones with termite grooves and worn down tips. I wonder where he is now.
"I had this vivid daydream yesterday where I lived in an old house with a ton of cats."
Everyone dreams. You can seldom find a person who doesn't dream. In sleep, the brain spins little worlds until, of course, you wake up. The average person goes about their day forgetting their dreams until the next time they find themselves dreaming. But that extraordinary one who doesn't?
Dreamland is a marvelous place where reality is dreams. Peaceful places where you are ever so alone, but your soul rests inside your weightless body. You've never quite gotten lost. It goes on and on and on, memories of your childhood unspooling before your feet. Go ahead.
A dream is a memory, burnt golden on the edges and tinged with yearning nostalgia. All the places you see in Dreamland no matter how fantasical, are out there somewhere, waiting for you. These are yours, made for you.
You roll into a duvet. Fall asleep safe and sound. And now, you dream.
Sunlight dapples your thick fur. The wind rushes through your loping gait. You tear through the trees. You are wild and free and innocent. Your first dream of breathing in the clear mountain air kisses you gently.
You've been here before. In person and out. Laying on your stomach, sand between your toes. The tide's coming in. Ocean waves lulling you away and away and away. You close your eyes.
There is no immediate danger. Nothing is there. Only you, and the water, and the soft sunlight. The cool water wavers over your bare feet. You can leave, but why would you? You're at peace here. You're at peace here. You're at peace here.
