Running through golden fields of wheat, a glittering city, grey-green suburbs, the edge of a forest, and finally into a smoldering jungle thick with prowling red cats, she scrambles up a banana tree, disappears behind the fruit, and discards her silk pajamas. She is alive, tingling with vitality, blood sparkling.
The sky patterns shift above gathering black clouds. Her long hair tangles, catching behind her as she drops from the tree onto the softest surface. Eyes, tails, claws flit about, alert, watching from the shadows.
Pressing on, she runs ahead onto the white-sugar sand of a wind-swept beach and squats to inspect a seashell; tiny life leaking out, barely hanging on. She is jolted from her dream.
“Kelly… Kelly… you need to wake up now, it’s time for your evening meds.”
A clear liquid is pushed into her vein; the fluid nature of her present life: reality after a tragic accident. Once again, she trembles at the foreignness of the sensation and closes her eyes.
Every now and then she wakes up– but it is never where she was.
Thank you for reading. I hope you have a lovely Sunday! xo