Saturday Short: To Dreamland

photograph of hillside outside Waitomo, New Zealand

Do you ever dream in color? What do you see?

I see a far green land. The greens look too vivid to be believed. If I showed you what I see, you won’t believe me. The green grass and leaves and trees look like I could touch them and my fingertips would come away stained.

It is beautiful. I see a sky so blue that it looks like it goes on to infinity. I’m not even sure what infinity means. Does anyone? I mean, I know what it means, but what does it look like? How does it feel? Like slipping into a dream where everything is so beautiful that you scarcely don’t want to breathe—but am I even breathing—for fear a puff of breath will blow it all away.

And there are flowers, so perfect and pure and poisonous, I’ve started wondering if this really is a dream. In dreams nothing is supposed to hurt you, right? Everything should be peaceful and innocuous, but the flowers, they are still here.

But I’ve found I don’t care, as I slip into dreamland, but I don’t remember falling asleep.

I’ve heard the ringing of a trumpet, off behind the ridgeline, but I haven’t seen anyone else. But it calls to me, it calls me to come. Perhaps today I will stand up beside the flowers and begin walking down the hill to see what there is beyond.

But I wonder, as I feel the warm breeze on my cheek and look at my fingertips, still unstained,

How do I tell if this is my dream?

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