Throwing Dreams out the Window
I’m sitting here on the third floor, wishing dreams out the window. I imagine them falling to the ground, almost like snow, and forming a technicolor cloud on the ground outside, three stories from where I sit.
What if they melted down a dream-cloud and molded it into a stone and set it in a ring? I bet it would be a comfort to have these dreams and wishes outside myself. Just throw it away and start again and never be disappointed.
What if someone picked up my dreams and carried them away? What if someone pumped my dreams into a balloon and let them float into the sky? What if it starts to rain and everything I wish gets washed away?
Will I still be the same?
People think I’m weird because I meet them and I ask them things like if they believe in God or if they were a color, what would they be? People think I’m weird because I have ideas, and I refuse to be good at talking about the weather.
Life’s too short for small talk. So I’m sitting on the third floor throwing my dreams out the window.