Of Dreaming

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A taste of what will never come.

Submitted: January 12, 2012

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Submitted: January 12, 2012



To Dream

I am in an unfamiliar place. I know where i am, but I have never been here before. I hear the crackling wood of a fire, but I cannot see it.

There is fog in all directions. With each step I take, the fog becomes more dense. I feel the fire's warmth and am overcome with a longing to see it. It consumes my thoughts.

I begin to walk faster, escalating into a run. I hear my breath and feel afraid. I stop, but the feeling persists. The fear births a sharp ringing I am unable to bear. The crackling fades into the ringing. 

I close my eyes tightly.

The fire's noise slowly returns. The warmth is now radiating from inside of me. I feel the fire comforting me. I need to see it. I must. I must.

My eyes open. There is no fire. It's warmth and noise are foreign to me now. With my fog's abandonment I clearly see what was \"hidden\". There are walls without doors or windows. Cold. Dead. Real.

I am alone. I can no longer remember the fire. It could not have ever been here. This is what is. All I want is the fog to blind me once more.

I dream of dreaming.

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