the color of the eye of Your soul

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic


This was a dream I had once. It may be a little weird.

Submitted: December 09, 2017

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Submitted: December 09, 2017

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The Color of the Eye of YourSoul


 

This is my story. This is my dream. Listen. Do you hear me? You can learn a thing or two from dreams.

Slirp the milk through the straw. Pick up skirts. Fill up cans of milk from orange cows. Get in a car with a teacher with your milk. Follow the nice lady who looks and smiles at you when you aren’t looking at her. She drives. We follow. Where too? I don’t know. Dreams are mysterious.

Her car caves in from the back. We pull over. When she comes out of her car, she is laughing at us. Why? Because she is wise. Where did her wisdom come from? Dreams are mysterious. She looks at me, not the teacher, and asks about the milk. My answer? Who knows. Dreams are mysterious. She asked if there was one who had caught the eye to my soul. I smile and said yes. She asks for me to pull out my silver serving spoon. I listen. Where did the spoon come from? Dreams are mysterious. She tosses me a golden ring. She says put it on the spoon. She says I would give it to the one who held the eye of my soul in his hand. She smiles and says to run away and cut down a christmas tree.

I don’t even hesitate. I go and cut down my tree. Two come and try to take my tree. I try to keep them from getting it, but then let them have it. It was what I had to do. I realize that one of the two who take my tree held the eye of my soul in his hand.

I wake up. Dreams are mysterious. Dreams are wise. They are even wiser than the brain they are feeding. They make us wise. I lay down to dream the rest of my dream. It was too wonderfully amazing to end. Not yet. Not yet.

My tree is gone. I remember both of the ones who took my tree. I know there faces. I knew one. I knew the other. Then, a soft breeze whispered what I was to do next. My golden ring attached to my spoon was not mine. It was the eye to the soul of the one I was seeking. He had found me, and I needed to find him. He needed his eye. His soul was not his without his souls eye. My soul was not mine without my soul's eye.

I see him standing in the distance, patiently waiting. I pull out my spoon, and take the ring off the spoon. The ring flies to my lips. I run to him, and him to me. The ring, my ring, my soul's eye, was on his lips as well. I kiss him on the cheek right as he kisses me on the cheek, for you cannot have two eyes without having a horrible life. Our eyes were returned. We walk away from each other. No words.

If we had kissed on the lips our souls would have united with two eyes. We would have been unstoppable, for two eyes is better than one. We would have been one. Stronger together than apart.

But we would have gone blind, for we cannot take care of another eye without taking care of your own as well. We left it at peace. Maybe one day we could have a chance at being strong.

But we knew better. We knew we needed to find the color of our own eye before we found the color of another eye.

-Selah Hageman


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