2 May 2024
Dream
I stand alone on a cold grass hill. My bare-feet slide to anchor themselves, but i don’t look down. All around me, far below my cold hill, are cities. The skyscrapers and Towers lean into a horizon glowing as embered dusk, the sun burning across their spires and features. The sky is warm and peaceful, it’s golden and red hues a welcome contrast to my cold hill. As i watch, though, Suddenly, the sun is not the sun, but a fire, blazing across the buildings, the skyscrapers. As the fire touches the city, the homes, I think, ‘They will burn away.’ Rather, though, they freeze under scorching flames, for the fire turns them to glass. I see the white and gold and red flames blanket all that the world is made of and bend the sky, freezing the cities eternal it its horizon. As it nears me, i believe it will do the same to me. But as it touches me, I peel away, not to glass, but to ash, and i am devoured by the flames. For I am not made of the same as the city is of.
