I had a dream once.
I was flying.
With wings opened wide and eyes closed tight to remember the sensation: the feeling of cold winds above the clouds brushing against my skin; the feeling of damp water droplets embracing me as clouds.

I was flying.
Very high.
I was flying so high that eventually, in some dreary times, I thought I was flying too high.

There was no land beneath my feet, nor rivers or mountains at the end of my sight. I was one with the winds, the clouds, and the light that was the sun. Soaring as if I could just touch the entire sky with my fingers, envelop it with my palms, and make it my own.
I was happy then. There was nothing that could bring me down. My wings were strong, my conviction was firm. My belief grew still, and what other people said was meaningless before me. It was as if I was crowned with the ocean as my tiara, and I could rule the world if I really wanted to.

I had a dream once.
Until I woke up.

Alicia Lidwina – July 2014


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