It’s one of those times, when everything is just so perfect. All that you had always wanted, just within your grasp, and it seems so easy, so obvious, that it was meant to be. All those years spent thinking about it, imagining it, wondering how it would feel, all those years led up to this, this moment, this experience, this dream.
It’s perfection. Almost too good to be true.
And then your alarm shatters through the perfection, jolting you out of that beautiful reverie, bringing reality crashing down on you with the force of the strongest winds and the harshest waves. You search for the snooze button, hoping against hope to hold on to the last threads of your dream, refusing to let reality gain control of you, yet again. You cry out in pain, struggle against the rough grasp of the truth, and hope that somehow, just somehow, you can continue with your dream, untouched, undisturbed, unharmed. Yet, you know, even as you see yourself struggle against the grasps of reality, that somewhere it’s over, somewhere, it had always been just a dream, too perfect, too good to be true.
You wake up. You get out of bed. It hurts, but you realize you’re left with no choice. As the day goes on, you busy yourself, trying to rid your memory of the remnants of that beautiful dream, that perfect world, too good to be true. Yet, you find yourself reminiscing the feelings ever so often. You scold yourself, call yourself delusional, tell yourself to be strong and understand and accept what’s real.
Yet, you go to sleep every night, hoping against hope, to dream that dream, yet again.