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Description
No one called me. I sat, shuffling my old wrinkled playing cards on my bed, listening to the rain. On occasion, I sighed. I guess you could say I was disappointed.
So I lay down on my bed, nestling my head onto my favourite pillow. I placed the deck of cards beside me, and closed my eyes. The dim light shone through my eyelids, and I imagined myself lying on cement. The cold seeped up from the floor into my back, and a cool breeze floated softly over my body like fabric brushing my skin. I breathed in, letting the last bit of awareness of my bedroom around me evaporate into the dark cement room where I lay.
I opened my eyes. Shivering, I sat up and looked around me. Light faded in all directions, draping everything with eerie luminescence. The arched ladder, covered even more than usual with rust stood before me as it always did, reaching up into the light. I forced my fluid body upright, willed my mist-like self forward and grasped, with my ghost hands, the cold rail of the ladder. My heart throbbed into the metal and the space surrounding where I stood.
Sliding like shadows over water, I skipped to the top of the ladder. I slid my hand over the threshold, from which painfully bright light was glowing. I took a moment – or maybe an age – to catch my breath and cool my racing heartbeat.
The threshold was behind me, just out of reach. I stretched my hand back to brush what was of the past while I gazed out at my place of peace. Light was everywhere before me, coming not from a sun. A glance behind me showed the darkness, and I stepped forward, feeling the crunch of the yellow gravel beneath my feet.
Soft, rolling hills and the sweet scent of fresh spring grass washed over me. My pathway, curving slightly as it always did, lead to the grove of shimmering silvery leaves. Step by step, I saw myself move and pause through the space as if my being were captured by rich colourful stills. I stood between the cool light and the fluttering darkness of the grove, watching the leaves' canopy scintillate in the lack of breeze.
I felt myself relax. The feel of the bark of the tree beneath my raw feeling fingers was rough and yet smooth. I was in a place where nothing was sure, a place of untroubled dreams with no expectations. The gravel beneath my feet was now brown bark crackling when I stepped even closer toward the lonely bench.
Before me was the swirling darkness. Liquid mesh and satin twirling around a center void. Beside me, the bench carved from an ancient eucalyptus tree. Behind me was the light that still tickled my skin when the archway of leaves above me rustled in the still air.
A place that could make me smile. A place where all is right but anything can be wrong. The dreamland I dream of. I sat on the bench and waited, sighing to myself when I remembered that no one had called.

Description
No one called me. I sat, shuffling my old wrinkled playing cards on my bed, listening to the rain. On occasion, I sighed. I guess you could say I was disappointed.
So I lay down on my bed, nestling my head onto my favourite pillow. I placed the deck of cards beside me, and closed my eyes. The dim light shone through my eyelids, and I imagined myself lying on cement. The cold seeped up from the floor into my back, and a cool breeze floated softly over my body like fabric brushing my skin. I breathed in, letting the last bit of awareness of my bedroom around me evaporate into the dark cement room where I lay.
I opened my eyes. Shivering, I sat up and looked around me. Light faded in all directions, draping everything with eerie luminescence. The arched ladder, covered even more than usual with rust stood before me as it always did, reaching up into the light. I forced my fluid body upright, willed my mist-like self forward and grasped, with my ghost hands, the cold rail of the ladder. My heart throbbed into the metal and the space surrounding where I stood.
Sliding like shadows over water, I skipped to the top of the ladder. I slid my hand over the threshold, from which painfully bright light was glowing. I took a moment – or maybe an age – to catch my breath and cool my racing heartbeat.
The threshold was behind me, just out of reach. I stretched my hand back to brush what was of the past while I gazed out at my place of peace. Light was everywhere before me, coming not from a sun. A glance behind me showed the darkness, and I stepped forward, feeling the crunch of the yellow gravel beneath my feet.
Soft, rolling hills and the sweet scent of fresh spring grass washed over me. My pathway, curving slightly as it always did, lead to the grove of shimmering silvery leaves. Step by step, I saw myself move and pause through the space as if my being were captured by rich colourful stills. I stood between the cool light and the fluttering darkness of the grove, watching the leaves' canopy scintillate in the lack of breeze.
I felt myself relax. The feel of the bark of the tree beneath my raw feeling fingers was rough and yet smooth. I was in a place where nothing was sure, a place of untroubled dreams with no expectations. The gravel beneath my feet was now brown bark crackling when I stepped even closer toward the lonely bench.
Before me was the swirling darkness. Liquid mesh and satin twirling around a center void. Beside me, the bench carved from an ancient eucalyptus tree. Behind me was the light that still tickled my skin when the archway of leaves above me rustled in the still air.
A place that could make me smile. A place where all is right but anything can be wrong. The dreamland I dream of. I sat on the bench and waited, sighing to myself when I remembered that no one had called.