My Dreams: A Short Story: The Visions Of Dreams

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As a kid I had massive dreams. They were bigger than me, bigger also than that horizon that kept me suspended between its straight lines and green fallows. That same horizon teased me more often than not with its borders, taunting me to run beyond the fire breaks, to bury my favorite memories in its wrinkles, to peddle past the grave yard, take those gigantic leaps, kick up that dirt and go in search of the magic that promised itself to the wild and unruly. Yet suspended I remained for some time, not held captive yet not set free, waiting for my dreams to grow so big that they would just burst me right out into a bigger world, blowing me beyond that skyline with such a speed that nothing would see me fly past. The big dreams only started…show more content…
When the silence came, so did my big dreams of escape and one day they really did just burst me right out of orbit and into a bright new world that was full of possibility, just like I’d wished. I lived, I laughed, I built, I broke, I ran, I stumbled and I got back up and I did everything that I dreamed of doing but I never loved like that again. It seemed like it would be a betrayal to do so, as if I even had a choice. The flowers just never really grew the same way again, if they even grew at all. My soul cried often for a love that was lost but it never bled again for anyone else. The palette of colors dried up and no canvas ever presented itself to me with the same level of thirst. I never thought I would ever see my field of flowers fill my heart again. I never thought the paint on my palette would suddenly spring to life and run like rivers, gushing and flowing, through the valleys that hid themselves from me for all those years. But suddenly there I was, brush in hand, nudging a sleeping giant to the surface of my wonderland, begging her to come out and feel the flowers and smell the pollens and petals of a long lost
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