Another dream last night, just as odd as the last. This time I was a bird, drifting slowly towards a frozen lake. I let my self be carried by the light clouds. White tuffs like blankets on that cold morning. For a second, I stepped onto a cloud, and there I stood, ecstatic. I lept off and flew towards my joyful youth below, down on the icy shores between massive twin pines. There I stood, ready to hunt, my father’s rifle by my side. I saw the look of wonder in my young eyes sparkle, even from a distance. Yet soon the wind changed, and with it my joy left, replaced by sadness for all I had let slip away. I looked back down and saw myself lying silent on the snow covered ground, as the laughter blew faded into the cold breeze.
