Lately I keep having the most gorgeous, vivid dreams, only to watch them dissolve as I wake until there's nothing left but fragments. With every dream that's lost, I wish more and more that I had that dream-recording device from Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, so I could still remember them.
Last week I dreamed I was a young girl living in a small mid-western town. It was summer, and the days were warm. The light was always a wheat-like shade of gold, with the wind dancing in the grass. I fell in love with a half-indian boy with brown hair and eyes like a fawn's who lived on the nearby reservation. He owned horses and road bare-back in the rodeo races, and I was constantly afraid he'd hurt himself. Sometimes I came and helped out on his farm, and he would take me riding. Then at night we would lie in the bed of his dad's pickup and watch the stars together.
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