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When Dreams TurnLoading...
To Nightmares...Loading...
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By Charlotte Geary
Fantasy. Such a pretty word. Defined as the activity of imagining things, especially things that are impossible or improbable.
Is it still a fantasy when it becomes real? Or does it become a dream, the next line of plausible but improbable. I know two things. I created this world. And it is no longer a fantasy.
How do I know this? A couple reasons. In the real world, butterflies don't grow on trees. In the real world, flowers don't bloom on their own. And in the real world, there are no wolves the size of houses, no horses that can fly, and falcons that can speak. I've dreamed of this world. Created it. Nurtured it. It has my hopes, aspirations, inspirations...It also has my fears, doubts, insecurities, and despair. How did I get here? Was I taken? Or was it something I did that bridged that final gap between reality and imagination?
I brush these thoughts from my head as I notice someone coming towards me. I tense up as they start to speak. I was not prepared for what this woman said.
"It's you...It's really you? After all this time?" The woman says in apparent disbelief and shock.
"I-I'm sorry! I don't think you're talking to the right person." I respond, trying to keep my ever increasing awareness and fear in check. I know where this is going.
"No!!" She whispered, grabbing my hands in a vise like grip. Her eyes are pleading with me silently. "No! You have come to save us." She leads me to the crest of a hill. "Help us..." She whispers in my ear and then she is gone, leaving me to watch in horror at the destruction beneath my feet. In unison, every head on that gory battlefield turns toward me. My breath hitches and I can't seem to think straight. I only know one thing as the crowd closes in on me.
I did this to them.
Is it still a fantasy when it becomes real? Or does it become a dream, the next line of plausible but improbable. I know two things. I created this world. And it is no longer a fantasy.
How do I know this? A couple reasons. In the real world, butterflies don't grow on trees. In the real world, flowers don't bloom on their own. And in the real world, there are no wolves the size of houses, no horses that can fly, and falcons that can speak. I've dreamed of this world. Created it. Nurtured it. It has my hopes, aspirations, inspirations...It also has my fears, doubts, insecurities, and despair. How did I get here? Was I taken? Or was it something I did that bridged that final gap between reality and imagination?
I brush these thoughts from my head as I notice someone coming towards me. I tense up as they start to speak. I was not prepared for what this woman said.
"It's you...It's really you? After all this time?" The woman says in apparent disbelief and shock.
"I-I'm sorry! I don't think you're talking to the right person." I respond, trying to keep my ever increasing awareness and fear in check. I know where this is going.
"No!!" She whispered, grabbing my hands in a vise like grip. Her eyes are pleading with me silently. "No! You have come to save us." She leads me to the crest of a hill. "Help us..." She whispers in my ear and then she is gone, leaving me to watch in horror at the destruction beneath my feet. In unison, every head on that gory battlefield turns toward me. My breath hitches and I can't seem to think straight. I only know one thing as the crowd closes in on me.
I did this to them.