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Dream Journal

22nd March

He comes into my dreams every night. I've become much better at remembering my dreams since the last time I wrote something about it. Burning that piece of paper didn't help, but what bothered me doesn't anymore. The dreams have stopped scattering away into wisps as dandelion seeds in the wind ever since I wake up. Even if I may not remember how they start, I always remember the dreams ever since he comes into the picture. I notice him right away. 

He's a part of my imagination, but in the dreams he feels so very real. He has his own personality, and he has the handsome, mysterious thing going on with him. I do remember him being handsome, but I can never find the words for it. As much as I focus to engrave his features in my memory, spending what seems like hours staring at him in the dream, that is one thing that never stays concrete.

Yesterday night, I dreamed of being a princess in a tall tower. I had been reading to children at the hospital so that's where it might have come from. But I didn't have any ridiculously and convenient long hair to let down for my prince to climb up. I had been panicking at this point. And there he'd appeared, in the middle of the stone bricked room standing leaning against the four poster bed as if he'd always been there. 


He smiled. He had the most beautiful smile. Not that I could ever tell him that, I don't believe a guy would like to be called that. That praise seems to be reserved for the fair sex. 

"You do know this is a dream, and you're not really trapped?"

"Yes, well, I know now." 

"You're welcome," he said, striding towards the window which he climbed. He stood on the windowsill and beckoned me. 

"What are you doing, you'll..." The protest faded from my lips as I realized the silliness of my fear. 

"You can die in a dream," he said. "But you can't die when you're walking on air" 

He walked forward, and he didn't fall. He floated. 

"How did you do that?" I rushed over to the window and leaned out, looking down. There was still quite a distance between us and the ground. Just looking down made me dizzy. 

"Anything's possible in a dream," he held his hand out to me. His eyes told of the unspoken challenge. 

Sure, I'd do that. Sure, I'd walk out into the air. 

"Believe," he said. 

I climbed up, feeling the cold on my cheeks. There wasn't much for balance, just the sides of the window that I held onto tightly. I closed my eyes, and tried to imagine what walking on air would feel like. Exactly like walking on a surface, just this one's made of glass. 

I held his hand. I took a deep breath, the cold air inside me. I stepped forward, and I didn't fall. I couldn't even tell that there was just air beneath me.

"You can do anything, if you just believe." 

Michael, because that seemed to be his name, he'd never told me, but once in the dream I'd just known his name was Michael, had suggested me to write down the dreams. He said this will improve my dream recall. I think it's a good idea too. 

I'll be eagerly waiting for night, when I can sleep and talk to Michael.  Maybe I'll fly to the moon in my dream tonight. 

The End

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