From the Pocket of a Dream
Fascinated by lakes, woods, moonlights and more or less everything else that has any kind of connection to nature, she is here again. At the edge of the beloved water surface. The dusk welcomed her into its open arms, glowing with the very last beam of the dying sunshine.
Right here, at the same spot she used to dream herself away and it always felt like she was swallowed by time, abducted to an unknown location, to a strange ground. Her whole life was a struggle for warmth, a search for love, only rarely rewarded with the tiny crumbs of joy. They were just as fireflies, alive only a few briefly moments before the light were quenched, leaving the throne to darkness again.
But here, inside her dream, she was a diferrent person. Each time she drowned into that magical world of illusions she was given a gift. Each time. It was like a drug that made her willing to go on. And wait. She was taught about patience and hope. She got to know the initial spark of joy announced from the distance. She started to believe.
But the awakening is always the hardest part. The hit of reality. It starts to corrode more and more. It weakens the strength. Fascinated by the lake and the reflections of light in it, she is here again. Resolute. Her hands are full of patience, hope, joy and love. Illusions. She is here to let go. Let go of them one by one.
© Eclipse 2011
Written for Tales Thursday
Image by Lucky Optimist