DreamSweet

Some believe our dreams can manipulate how we feel or act, others don’t bother to look for an answer. Some dreams can fool us and we really think that dream is a reality. A dream can be so realistic we can feel, taste, and see what’s happening. Almost like if it were that we were really there. Is there a line between what can happen in a dream and what reality restricts us to. Is it really a dream or is it a parallel universe that we can make, mold and bend reality? What is the line between real life and our dreams? Can it be determined? When crossing into a dream can we ever just get stuck there? Dreams can be good or bad, but can it have a life all of it’s own? When we cross that line can we ever come back? What would happen in that dream, would it be a dream then, or are our lives just living one dream into the next…



As the sun beams through the blinds causing a comfortable and irritating light, the screeching of yet another early morning alarm clock buzzes through the house. A teenage brown-haired, blue-eyed boy lets out a moan screaming in sarcastic excitement that meant time to go to school. With squinted eyes he tossed his feet over the bed and stared at the ground for a few moments. He glanced over at the clock just to see if perhaps he had woke up too early and had time for a short, but well deserved nap.

He glanced back one more time, this time just to estimate how many more minutes he could waste lying around. He stumbled to the bathroom, glanced at the mirror once, and then again to make sure his features were in the correct alignment. He turned the faucet on and cupped his hands and splashed a nice awakening handful of water. Once he brushed his teeth and stroked his hair a couple of times he began to scrumage for clothes to wear. It was still dark so he decided to wait for daytime to see what horrible entourage he had selected today.

The five o’clock news had nothing new to say, not much has happened where he is from but when it does everyone knows. He laughed as a representative from some big wig company started getting overly excited about firecrackers and cherry bombs. Surely even someone of that status has to have just a little fun himself every once in a while. While flipping channels every once in a while he would stop on the weather channel or some news station to keep a check on the time. As he took a deep breath it was about time to start heading out, but maybe a short nap before…

The trees were gracefully flowing in the wind with their brightly colored leaves breaking off and falling almost perfect into a pile that was oh so hard to resist. As he jumped into the crunchy pile of leaves they seemed to poof outward in a shockwave scattering across the field. He was having fun, but his lips were seeming a little dry. Across from where the tree was a beautiful and most extravagant little waterfall poured into a stream that winded across the area. He cupped his hands and dipped them into the water. He drank slowly, for this water was like water that could only be found on top of an iceberg, and boy was it good. It had to be the most purest water that had ever been touched by human hands. The sky was perfect and swallows were singing. Why can’t school be like this…wait, school! The once bright skies and field of green turned into a grey and gloomy scenery. His head snapped to look at the clock, 6:50, just enough time to see how his 50-meter sprint was going. The door flung open and he leaped outside while slamming the door behind him. The sun was slowly coming up and it made him push his speed up a gear. The bus flew by him, but there was still hope. He jumped through yards, dodging bushes, fences, and anything else that came up in his path. He jumped out of the brush and flew onto the bus through the doors, and at that same moment the doors shut behind him.

Well, that was one part of the day completed, now for the next. As the lumpy bus drove on the chatter around him made his body sink into his chair. He wasn’t very sociable and didn’t want to be. The last time he moved up the popularity ladder the fall down was more than he could bear and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. No one could ever understand the hurt and pain he went through and it didn’t look like he was up for another round. School was almost over and it was just easier to finish and then during the summer phase out the ones who caused this pain in the first place, but wouldn’t let that get in the way of having a good summer. His only hope was to get through this one day without any stress. He did care for those who hurt him, but their pain was causing him far greater agony than they could understand. He wished there was some way to help them understand, but the skulls of the weak-minded and stubborn are much to thick to break down.

As he finished conversing with himself the bus pulled up into the school’s bus loop. Going through it you could already see the groups and clicks of people starting to form on the sidewalk. He walked through the clutter to his homeroom, but not before taking a look at the group he used to be in, and as he looked a stream of memories came to his head and were suddenly cut off by a glare sent by one of his former friends. Going into class he was greeted by his teacher with a warm and homely feeling smile, but his depressions overwhelmed the good feeling. He sank into his seat and began to count the long minutes before class began. It seemed as if time had slowed down to make him bored out of his mind. He thought to himself, if only it went this slow when he decided to take that nap earlier. Speaking of…

He laid further back and stared at the pinkish purple clouds, and where the sun stood it was an almost sherbet orange color. The waves on the beach were breaking perfectly so that the noise was soothing to his very essence. As the seagulls flew into the sky it made him think about the people who made him happy. His aura was glowing. The feeling was like when a butterfly spreads its wings for the very first time. He breathed in every second and closed his eyes. When he opened them again he found that the kids in the desks next to him had taken amusement in drawing and graffiting on his face. What a nice gesture. The teacher had sent him to the bathroom to wash the brandings off of his face. He began his journey down the hallway. As he passed the lockers beside him the numbers reminded him of the people who currently used them. Then he started to picture those people with their numbers labeled on them like Olympic runners. The thought of the dull and unemotional people standing in line for lunch made him laugh. As he did the guidance counselor seemed to catch him and with a raven’s stare, pushed him on. He observed himself in the mirror and snarled at the markings upon his face. Even though he scrubbed as hard as he could, leaving red spots on his face, you could still make out the random drawings on him. He dragged himself back to his classroom and sank back into his chair. The teacher was murmuring on about famous figures in history that the class absolutely needed to know. As she rambled on he began to picture himself as one of those figures, and slowly…

He stood tall on the front of the boat. It was a small sailboat about 12-13 feet, enough for six or seven crew and him standing one foot on the bow and resting his hand upon his sword. The small boat broke through what waves it could and the crew helped as much as possible by rowing. Finally, the boat crashed ashore the golden beach which went up about fifty feet before the tree line into what seemed like a never ending jungle begin. He hopped out and breathed in the land, looked around, and gave the okay to his crew. As he breathed in he unsheathed his giant claymore and stabbed it into the sand, thus claiming the land for himself. He grabbed his sword out of the sand and carried on through the brush, slicing and hacking the foliage that was in his way. As the sweat and dew trickled down his face, he noticed his crewmate poking at his shoulder to get his attention. The poking turned into a shoving and the shoving, pushing. He whipped his body around, as he did he blinked. Like one of those toys you click down and the picture changes, the conquest for land and glory had changed into his already discovered classroom. And the crewmate had faded into the person behind him. He glared at him as hard as he could to inform him that he was very agitated of his being awoken. The kid simply pointed up at the clock and went back to his business. It was almost time for lunch and every one was already packed and ready to storm out of the classroom. He heard a jingle of key chains on someone’s backpack and the bell rang. Like a rubber band had been wound up and was waiting to be let go the people in the classroom shot through the door.

The classroom had completely emptied and he was left behind the pack. As he calmly walked out the door his teacher gave him another smile, which this time was taken to heart. His stomach wasn’t feeling the best so he decided to skip lunch and sit outside and enjoy the scenery on a bench. Once again the groups that had formed around the bus loop were slowly gathering together, this time around the picnic tables outside. He set his books beside him on the bench and stared into the sky. His mind seemed to wander off into the clouds, then to space and further. The pictures in his mind were like the ambiance on a computer when a CD plays. Then as he thought of that his own music began to play. A sort of Celtic symphony with a jazzy touch. The feeling was unexplainable; he sighed and felt goose bumps crawl up his body. He was taken back to the small bench when a person sat next to him after moving his things. Not just any person, a girl, a girl who he had been avoiding because her beauty drove him mad. She stared at him and as she did he was taken, his eyes locked with hers and he could see the colors interchanging from brown to green, spinning like a galaxy. He began to look deeper, but was cut short for as soon as she had come she left him with an over the shoulder look that made him tingle even more. All the thoughts, the hate towards his ex-buddies, the fear, and the depression was all cleared out and he felt ecstatic. He was floating. Nothing could bring him down, except for the bell that had rang for the second half of his day. He picked up his bags and dragged on to the classroom. On the way through the halls he saw his sister. She was happy and jumpy to see him, much like a small dog. He simply gave her a look that shot her down and continued on through the crowds. As always when he walked into class his teacher greeted him with a smile and he grumbled on his way and left the teacher wondering what was wrong. He flopped into his seat and crossed his arms across his chest. With his head still facing down, his eyeballs looked up and glared at the teacher to begin and get over with it. The though of life made him sick. All the people in a line with their locker numbers posted on them like robotic drones, what a life. He tried to imagine the pink skies, waterfall, the beach, but the sounds of his life were drowning out that picture now. As the clock ticked on, so did his anger. When would it end? The rest of the day, along with the bus ride home were one long dragging day that was carrying on too far. He threw himself inside the door, tossed his bag into a corner and flopped down on the bed. If only he could bring the people around him to see what he sees. They would understand. There would be no more hate, violence, crimes, arguments, and no grudges between anyone. Someday they’ll see…

The horizon was glowing with the golden sun; the seagulls were flying into the east. The white shores were glowing more brilliantly now than ever before. It was almost as if he could feel, hear, and taste the surroundings. He began to run down the hill into a field of flowing lilies. The grass was as soft as the kind they use on golfing ranges. The water glittered in the sun as if diamonds and jewels were in each drop. You could see the water running over the pebbles and rocks smoothing them out into perfect form. While running he held out his arms to feel the wind blowing beneath himself. He dropped into the grass and landed slowly into the leaves. He starred into the sky and saw beyond the clouds beyond the moon and sun, beyond space. He saw…he saw…White.



The lights beamed and glared off the floor, the sound of the beeping gadgets were all around. A small whimpering came from the nearest room, and a little girl’s voice was muttered with tears. Suddenly a shriek came from the room and a nurse came pacing from the origin of the noise. As far as the doctors could say, the boy was under too much stress and pain lately and it had caused a blood clot in one of his arteries, causing his brain to swell up and put the boy in a permanent coma. The mother was left without a son, the sister without an older brother. In all the suffering, the hardest thing would be to get over the loss, the pain. For no one was to talk about the boy. He was to be left a blank memory, one long forgotten by friends, former friends, teachers, and all else who knew him. How can someone hide the human side of them? How do you go on without the emotions that make you, well, you? As the boy’s memory was forgotten a break in the line where the uncaring empty-numbered robots stood was made. A single person seemed to go from dull and grey to caring and colorful. That person began to reach out to the rest of the line, and soon there was no line, just a field where the children laid to stare and wander about the clouds.

The boy was never talked about, but still he was smiling, there was some part of him still lingering. It seemed as if when you look up at a cloud today you see him, and he will simply smile back, and carry on with his legacy. Who’s to say you shouldn’t start yours today?

THE END

Micah Adams
7/11/05