sitting in traffic on a hot day. the asphalt seems to be boiling, a mirage of steam. truckers peer down my tanktop and leer. the air smells dull and brown, like the blades of an unused, dusty fan. and then.. out of the western sky, a puff of cool air. two feathery airborne seeds dance together in the sudden breeze. i've always called them wishes, since i was encouraged to catch them as a child. they cling to one another, like slender young lovers in white gloves. a tiny whirlwind catches them, and they spin around one another, an ecstasy of laughing dizziness. but the clock strikes midnight - one catches on the corner of the truck in front of me. their fragile grasp is broken, and the waltz is over. i can almost hear them cry foul at the inevitable tragedy, protesting that they weren't quite yet done dancing. at least they got the chance. someday, perhaps. i will don a white dress and dance through a traffic jam. I will hand out ice cubes to the weary travelers, and they will be grateful. maybe they will catch a glimpse of the synaesthesia - against all odds, tasting snowflakes in the summer.
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In a place long lost in the mists of memory there was a city where dwelt the people of dreams. These people were apart from the rest of men and were sometimes looked upon with anger and fear by others. The people of dreams were different because of how they chose to look, each was different from the other but all seemed similar. They celebrated life and the gifts of the gods by living free and choosing new paths others were afraid of. It was courage and freedom that took them to new places, they were not afraid of what others would say or think, it mattered most what lay in their own hearts and that they were true to it.
In this city there was a child named Joone, she and her sisters would play in the fields all the summer months and in the winter they would study to learn more of the world in which they resided. Now one season as they ran in the woods they came upon a strange band of people, seemingly lost and afraid. Joone and her sisters took these poor folks in hand and led them to the city but no sooner had they done so than the men drew long bits of sharp iron and steel and began to chase the inhabitants and slew a great many of them until they themselves were slain.
The dream people had lived in peace for so long that they no longer remembered the ways of war and many good people lay dead at the hands of these killers. There was fear now that others would find them and more deaths would fall upon the city, so scouts were sent out into the forests in all directions to warn of the coming of men.
Joone and her sisters were spared from the slaughter but many friends and loved ones were lost so they swore to do something. Each sister went in a different direction with a pack upon their back and they travelled the lands spreading tales of the good and evil of men and the lore of the earth. Each teaching men to find in their hearts the tie that binds all things and cherish it.
Many were the tales of them and others followed out of the dream city each with new gifts to keep men at bay and protect their home. Sons and daughters of the dream people made homes in the world of men and would, in small ways and sometimes in large, lead men into new paths they feared but must travel. Sometimes they would not listen and the dark heart of men would close and tear the world apart only to be led back again to relearn all the knowledge they had thrown aside. It was a long and tedius struggle as each step seemed small and hard fought for but it was still a step forward and that to the children of dream was worth the fight.
In time the children lost themselves in the world of men and the way home to the city, sometimes they would learn of the death of a friend who men had taken to stop change. Men feared change as much as the children loved to embrace it and still do. The children fought to bring peace to the world so they could start the search for home, they had many tools in this fight but the greatest came from within. All the children had a gift and Joone and her sisters were each blessed with a different ability; Joone could tell stories so vivid and alive, her sister Apryl could sing and stir hearts and minds, and Mei, young Mei could write the soul of the world into being.
Their spirit exsists today in the hearts of their children, hidden in the folds of humanity, the lost children of the dream people.