FicWad

Dream Come True

Dream: “an idea or image in the mind during certain stages of sleep; an illusive or fantastic plan; an urgent desire; something that is exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful.” Everyone’s had dreams, right? The person of their dreams, the dream job, but has anyone had a dream come true? That’s fairy tale stuff, right? Allow me to tell you a fairy tale then. Once upon a time, there was a girl. Actually, she was technically a woman, but I’m still calling her a girl. I can do that, because she’s me. Once upon a time, there was me. I was a girl of average build, dark hair, brown eyes, and very usual and common beauty. I figure if there’s beauty of the other kind, there has to be a more generic brand, too. Heck, we live in a capitalist society. That means choices, right? In a way, I’d like to say my life’s been interesting enough to warrant fairy tale treatment, but that would also require evil stepparents, magical spells, and bloodshed, if you go by the Grimm Brothers. My parents are normal, that kind of magic doesn’t exist, and blood makes me queasy, so that’s out. I will tell you the kind of magic I found does exist, though.

I was having a normal day -- classes, friends, homework, the like -- and it had its ups and downs. I woke up several hours before I should have and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I lay in bed, trying to daydream or night-dream, or anything to occupy me until I could move around and not worry about my roommate. When sleeping beauty finally ended her centurylong slumber, I got dressed while she was in the bathroom, got my stuff together, and headed out. After breakfast and English, I was in an okay mood as I switched my books and headed back out for Math and Logic. Then, lunch, then nap. I had a lovely dream -- I was on a deserted beach as the sun was setting. I’ve never actually seen the ocean, but this was good enough for me. Mine was the only shadow that darkened the sugar sand as fire turned the deep blue water to a sea of rolling flames. As the orb sank lower in its pastel sky, striving more valiantly to extinguish itself for the night below the horizon while making the ocean more hospitable, it cast its rays upon the cave around me. The cavern, which I just now noticed for the first time, was filled with crystals. Each glowed with its own unique and brilliant hue of light. I then rose and skipped forward to let the darkened surf kiss my toes. I let my feet play among the mellow waves while I turned to watch the ghostly moon claim his realm -- the sky. Just as he was about to climb above the trees, and take his dominion over the sky, I awoke.

I felt cheated as my eyes now took in the cinderblock walls lit by fluorescent bulbs with their unbroken, sterile luminescence. It was really rather sickening. Like I wasn’t where I should be. I did do some homework before dejectedly hauling myself to dinner. My mind’s eye was still scanning for the moon as I zoned out on the conversation. After I’d eaten what little I’d taken, I felt restless. Walking back to my dorm, I wondered what I should do now. I still had a paper I should be working on, but I was definitely uninspired. Which was odd for me. My side of the room was already pretty neat, but I straightened up and rearranged some stuff out of sheer need for employment. I listened to music, impatiently jogging my foot through the slow songs, but skipping the faster ones all together. I tried reading the Shakespeare assignment, but my mind refused to remain on the page. After rereading “No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then there was a star danced, and under that I was born.” for the sixth or seventh time, I decided to throw in the towel and go for a walk.

I hummed scattered refrains from Phantom of the Opera, for some reason known only to my unconscious, as I paced the tree-lined paths in the dying light. I heard a fountain, in my wanderings, and approached, for lack of a better thing to do. I sat down on the ledge, watching the submerged lights frolic among the ripples, mesmerizing and tranquil. I started to realize it was getting dark as I at last tore my eyes from the liquid and looked over the lights of the city. A fountain on a hill. It should be a poem or something. Then, I saw the most magical thing of my life. I looked slightly to the right of the twinkling, false stars among the sea of trees, and was awed. There he was, protecting the dreamers from his cloud-shrouded den among the true celestial pin pricks. The moon sat back, the hazes of the night weaving amethyst strands delicately into his usual silvery robes. It must have been near a full moon, for the gentle illumination formed a nearly perfect sphere, suspended in gold-dappled, silky indigo. I don’t know how long I sat there, listening to the ripples wave at me as they kissed the stone beneath my feet, or how much more of his domain his majesty claimed before I at last looked away. I hadn’t really thought of anything. Not my assignments, not my songs, not my stories or poems. I’d just sat, and let the beauty sink into me, taking notes from the seas patient acceptance of the sun. I walked back, undressed, and got ready for bed, then slipped under the covers, and had a wonderful dream. It was about a magical fountain on a hill and the life giving moon. I can’t say I lived happily ever after, I haven’t gotten that far yet, but don’t feel gypped. Here comes the moral: some dreams are just magical enough to come true.