Slumber

I had a bad dream last night.

I was playing with a balloon that went away up in the air. It was bright and pastel as I looked up to try to grab the balloon, I noticed Brian holding hands with someone with waist-length, shiny black hair. They were talking, laughing ...

I smiled. It was me, I thought.

But then I realized that wasn't possible because I was right where I was, trying to get the balloon that I was losing, and there she was, with hair like mine, holding the hand that belongs to the one I love,

but ... not me.

I tried to run up, but for some reason, I couldn't. My body didn't allow me. I could only watch them walk away, walk away happily, hands held tight.

There, I stood, in disbelief, alone, stabbed in the heart.

I woke up, and the dream just felt exceptionally light. Not the kind that would drag you down with thick and dark smug of monsters, but crisp and light and fair like late spring. So peaceful. So unexpected but natural. So heartbreaking. That's what scared me.