A dream — or at least it feels like a dream

This time I wake up in a field
I can’t see clearly
It’s too bright

Sweet colors — they chase me
Sweet colors — they call for me

I want to go, but something holds me

someone

A whisper

a voice

He calls my name
he says it’s not my time

I want to follow, but I can’t

I feel myself fading

Sliping away

I want to touch his hand — I miss it

I go

A dream. Or at least it felt like a dream

A story

My story

My sorrow

My loss