Sitting on the edge of a spacious white dreamscape with my feet dangling over. My legs clad in black slacks rolled up my calf, revealing my legs fading into a dimly shining frosted glass. My feet would tink lightly if I would walk. Im sitting with someone I used to consider a close friend, who hurt me deeply, as though it never even happened, and he raps me in the shoulder and chuckles as he corrects my broken reference to the wrong Doctor. Theres a claw-footed porcelain tub a few paces from our backs with the shower running silently and hot, but without steam in the white light. There are large, greyscale trees draping lazily over quartz pillars and skyline-shaped cliffs. The branches are gaunt and laced with white beams of focused light bouncing at right angles around the ends. Large objects of umimportance drift through the atmosphere and we parley over a few upcoming movies that we want to see together. I have on a white formal shirt tucked into my slacks, and rolled up my forearms how I like. My black, glass horns arch a couple inches upward from my temples and jut forward a foot-and-some before sharply angling and tapering forwards into a long, delicate, scythe-shaped curve. I flow as I lead our wandering left, away from the tub and the largest of the distant trees. Our voices fade from my head like the feeling of the rather weightless greyscale scarf around me, and I wonder if this means I forgive him.
Posted on: Fri, 23 Jan 2015 12:37:00 +0000
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