The Dream

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by Mikelgard

by Mikelgard

So I recall a few specific dreams from that past that were reoccurring, so it got to the point that i unintentionally began lucid dreaming. As usual, I was still constrained by most physical laws (mostly), but that didn't take away from the fun in the least. I remember going to a camp and being able to freeze things by touch, I remember trying and failing to save a girl from falling into the lake I'd frozen over, I remember watching her fall deeper and deeper as the surface froze over where we'd broken through, I remember drowning. I remember being as a dragon, soaring as fast as I could through colored rings like some psychedelic Sonic. I remember a time where I was still in elementary school here in Texas, and I would start to sprint as fast as I could and jump, arcing through the air, frustrated that I couldn't quite fly. I would run faster and faster and faster, but could never really get enough momentum to fly. Thinking back, that's where my love of running came from. Not from running as fast as I could, but wanting to fly. That's still why I run so much nowadays. I run when I'm sad or angry, when I'm feeling trapped, as running is my freedom. If I can move, I can make a change. I can change my environment, my drive, my life. Not so much as a great white that must swim to stay alive, but as a bird upon the ground, hopping and stepping about, itching to take to the skies once again.

Now, all the inspiration aside, something a little more personal. I see a house, and I know that it is my own. I've awoken in a bed, and I know that it's missing someone. I step through the house on a hard floor, chilled from the morning air. I know I'm on the second floor, and I go down the steps. I walk through the kitchen and onto the deck, to the yard. I smell the salty air coming in from the shore, feel the morning chill nipping at my toes. I walk up to a hill where I know stands a rocking wooden bench, where I know in my heart a figure will be stood. I ascend the hill step by step up the grassy rise, seeing her come into view with each successive step. She's got one hand to her chest, the other loose at her side. She's staring out at the waves as the sun filters through wisp of cloud and crest of wave, and I'm a ways behind her. I say nothing, she says nothing. I remember her wearing the color red, and I remember that she begins to turn around just as the sun peaks the hill, her face hidden by the glare of the sun behind her, framing her in a heavenly corona of light, warmth, light; she is mine, and I am hers. I can tell by the edges of her face that she's smiling, and I know she's as awed by the sunrise as I am.

I've never seen her face, and I remember no further details outside of the architecture of the house and the surrounding area. This is a dream that I want to realize. One day, I will wake up, go outside, and gaze out upon the morning, occurring like every other, but unique like every before it. Just like the woman I see and know to be the one I am destined to hold in my arms. I don't say that lightly. Destined. Foretold. I'm not one to particularly buy fully into free will or fate. I believe that situations will come as they will, as shaped by the actions of those before and those afar, and that each individual in existence has a choice in every instant of their being, and yet, I know in my very core that this dream will come to pass. Just as sure as the sun will rise day after day, each different from the last, each dawn unique to every viewer from their unique position, their unique eyes, their unique perspective.

This is the dream I will never forget. This will come to pass. I know it.