a dream

             Dreams are a most extraodinary thing. They can be happy, sad, scary,
             or even deadly, you never know. They are so unpredictable, and yet so
             ratifying. No one knows where they really come from. But if they came from any
             place, I think it would have to be the stars. I believe there is a star in the
             sky for everyones dreams, and a twinkle for everyones thoughts. Here is one
             of my dreams, one of my thoughts. Here is my star....
             I am in the forest, and I can see a long narrow trail leading to
             nowhere. I try to look ahead as far as I can, but the forests mass canopy
             forbids it. I then start to walk, not knowing where or why, I just walk. I
             can start to hear faint sounds of a birds chirping. I listen closer, and the
             chirps start to sound like a childs voice. The child is singing a song, a
             beautiful song of joy, and good times. This moment of peace is short lived
             though, and the childs voice stops. The trees start to whisper as they dance
             in the breeze. It is almost as if they are mocking me. They make me feel
             like I don't belong. The wind picks up, and the trees start to laugh, at least
             it seems. I continue to walk as autumn ridden leaves cross my path. The
             already low sun begins to sink behind the hills, even faster than before. I
             start to worry and begin to run. The darkness is chasing me. I speed up, but
             it isn't fast enough..... Everything is dark, and the shadows call out to me. I
             come back to reality. I find myself in a field, near an old grey, half shingled
             house. It is too dark to tell, but I can almost make out a small figure near
             the house. I walk towards the figure, and when I get there, nothing. The
             darkness makes me feel lonely, I am scared. My emotions overcome me, and
             I fall to the ground. The grass is wet, like a morning dew. By now the wild
             ...

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