Dreams Lend To Reality

I had a dream last night. I have tried to so hard to stifle you and bury you that you have entered my subconscious mind and now I have had my first dream. Isn't that the way the world works. Just when you think they are out of your mind the have entered an entire different realm.

The clouds were low in my dream. Like, right by my window-low. They were puffy and thick and I was sitting on my window ledge hanging my legs out the window letting the thick fog of the clouds run over my legs leaving a murky film over my shins and calves. I heard my name. I couldn't see down to the street through the thick and cumulus clouds to see who was calling me. But, when I heard my name it was as if it was softly whispered in my ear, even though I knew it was coming from five flights below. My name kept being called, so I stood on the ledge of my window and dove into the clouds using them as cushions and bouncing from one to the other until I landed on one cloud right above the sidewalk. There you were. It was you. You were calling my name. But why? You looked up and tried to swipe away at the clouds to get a better view of me. You told me to fall into your arms. I began to panic. I didn't know how I was going to get back up to my window five flights above. I tried grabbing on to clouds but no luck. I tried leaping onto one above me. But, every time I landed on one it made the cloud sink a level lower. The last thing I wanted in this dream was to fall into your arms. You stood there. In your postman sort of outfit. Pressed shorts and a nice polo. You smiled but it could have passed for a cynical sneer. You kept telling me that I could fall into your arms. But, the thing was, you weren't holding your arms out. I started to call to you to hold your arms out. I knew I was falling. I knew there was a chance that I might not make it up to my window ledge. You still didn't throw your arms out. You stood there. Stoic. Sneering/Smiling. With your hands in your pockets. Whispering my name and telling me to trust you. But, you didn't lift your arms. I was so tired of fighting the clouds. I laid on my back and sank into one. My dream moved to slow motion. I passed by three clouds on my way to you. I passed by you. You didn't catch me. You stood with your cynicism in tact and your hands wringing in your pockets. I sank into the ground which seemed to be made of a soft slate colored sand. It was moving so slowly. The sand began to wrap around my legs, my body, and soon my face. I blew at the sand to keep it from my mouth and when I did, I created a strong enough wind that you blew over as if you were made of paper. The deterioration of your reality inspired strength in me and I began to sit up and wade out of the sand until I could grab a cloud and rest on it. You were a paperdoll. I made another blowing gesture and it was aimed right at you. You picked up and were whisked away in a moment. I sat with relief and comfort at the fact that you were not real. I made it back to my window ledge determined to never again to fall for a paperdoll just because they can be beautiful and joyful.

I thought I was first.
But I also thought you were real.
I can admit to being wrong.
You will never have this privilege.