The city was enormous, and unusual at that. Everything seemed to slope up to a point, and there was no better centerpiece than a massive skyscraper. The sun setting just right behind a purple mountainous cloud balancing on the edge of the horizon cast a red sky over the city. I felt a weight on my back, as if one wrong step would send me flying overboard backward.
But my fear was not the fear of falling, it was the fear of being impaled by one of the enormous beams jutting from the belly of the glass-paned building. It was a strange construction: half of the building was completely finished, while the other half was left exposed, its innards poking out. Veins of wires hung down the sides and bones of steel beams extended far into the air.
The rest of the city looked relatively small from this height. The top of the building that I stood on reached so high that it felt if I stretched my arm high enough, my fingertips would scrape the moon. My lungs even felt the wear and tear of the altitude.
I scanned the rooftop that I stood on, the gusty wind distracting me from finding an exit. It urged me toward the edge of the building, but I strangely felt no fear of falling from it. Suddenly the wind tore across the roof and I stumbled and lost my footing, finding myself a mere second later dangling from the roof of the building by a single hand.
Then, something strange happened: my fingers unfurled and I fell. I reached out a hand instrinctively, and my body swung around to grip the glass panes below like suction cups. I crawled up and down the sides of the building, scaling every which way of it, enjoying it while I could. Then, another breeze ripped me from my comfortable place clinging on the side of the building, and tossed me into the air, churning my insides. I couldn't tell the difference between up and down, left and right, forward and backward. My heart and brain seemed to stop, and all I could think was: GROUND!
Suddenly, my arms began to flap, but when my eyes took a second glance, my arms hung limply at my sides. No, not my arms- a second pair of arms, a pair of wings- filled with air like enormous sails, propelling me into the air. The wind lifted me up and down, sending me circling around the building effortlessly. The wind caressed my skin, from the nape of my neck down to my toes, and I watched the sunset in the reflection of the heavily tinted blue panes.
Suddenly, the sunset was ripped from my eyes and I was thrown into an apocalyptic battleground, dodging fiery smolders and sparks from the construction, and diving, dipping and tumbling to avoid protruding beams and wrecking balls that swung angrily. This portion of the skyscraper was under construction. I watched molten material dump from a bucket down to the ground, disappearing like light in a black hole, smothered by the dark and devoured into nothingness.
I lifted myself carefully to the top of the building, overlooking the other half of the city as the sun completed the last of its descent. Yellow eyes opened within the black bodies of the buildings, and they seemed to follow me with the movement of the people inside. Night fell at last, and I stood over a beautiful lighted city overlooking a sea, and a valley, and the crest of a sandy oasis set aflame.
YOU ARE READING
Dream Journal
Random"Dreams are the illustrations of the book your soul is writing about you." - Anonymous.
