The droning of the rain on the roof lulled me into a dream-filled slumber. My mind dragging me through the fields of my madness, the oceans of my joy, and the skies of love. In my dream, the sun beat down upon my wings and warmed me to my bones, while the breezes caressed my feathers with a constant, loving stroke. I could feel the clouds passing over me, and I could taste the ozone in the air as a nearby thunderhead prepared to darken someone's world. But here, mine was bright and glorious, your love touching me and making me dizzy.
A loud clap of thunder woke me, and my eyes opened on the reality that it was all a simple afternoon dream. I sat up on the couch and stretched my arms over my head, my heart light and my eyes clearing of the remnants of the dream. I felt something scratching my right arm inside my sleeve and tried to make sense of it. Reaching in with my free hand, I discovered a single glossy-black feather and realized that whether here in the real world or there in the dream, love transformed me and allowed me to fly, fly fly.
fin
"The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? - it is the same the angels breathe."
~Mark Twain
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