The Death of Dreams (Pain: Part I)

There once lived a girl who hated dreams.

Not the dreams that one might have while slumbering through the night, but the dreams that burrow into a heart and fill the soul with ache.

She hated her dreams.

They were merciless and unrelenting. With all of her strength she would capture and eliminate one, simply for another to burst to life...showering her mind with electric sparks and new ideas.

She hadn't always hated her dreams. As a child she had loved them, even helped them grow. Her dreams had responded to her ministrations and grown very strong. At first they had thanked her by filling her heart with beautiful gifts. She saw colors that others could not, heard music that had never been written, and witnessed all the wonders that were yet to come to pass. The girl was grateful, and she continued feeding and nurturing her dreams. She read them stories filled with adventure and fantasy and the whole wide world. She sang them songs that flowed along the surface of her skin. On warm nights she would take them dancing under the stars, which they would wrap into themselves until they became living streams of universe.

But with time her dreams grew powerful and tall. Soon they were so far beyond her reach that she could no longer feed them. They towered above her, giants made out of stardust and wonder. She called up to them to reach down to her so that she could care for them, but their ears were deaf to her cries

High above her, the dreams were feeling the first pangs of hunger. They called for the girl, and grew angry when she did not come. Soon their hunger became ravenous, and they began to pull at their roots. The girl clutched at her chest as the breath was being torn from her lungs. She frantically grabbed for the tallest of the dreams, attempting to climb up high enough to be heard. One by one she felt the dreams tearing loose of her and collapsing, screaming as they disintegrated into earthen dust and fell dead upon the ground. Still she climbed, even as her heart tore piece by piece.

Soon there was only one left alive. She clung to it, blood pulsing from her open heart and her hands torn from the effort. She poured every ounce of her love and hope and strength into one final song, calling up to the coursing nebula that raged above her.

Turning to face her, the dream turned dark. With one final tug, it ripped itself free of the girl, turning from light and stars to wind-battered dust as the girl went crashing down to the earth.

When she finally opened her eyes, her body broken and torn, she saw that she was covered in broken earth and there were no more stars in the sky. She thought of the dreams she had tried to save and how they had torn her apart trying to survive. Then she thought of the dream she had bled for, and in her mind's eye she saw it turn toward her before dealing the death blow.

And she hated it.

Photo by Bryan Goff on Unsplash