A little something I whipped up, based on countless dreams of mine that I've had about summer. I hope you can picture the images in your mind and experience it as vividly as I have.

~~~

I've never liked summer, but there was a sort of appreciation that I had for it.

It was something that I could reach out to – something where if my fingers stretched out far enough and there was enough hope dangling from my chest, it would appear before my eyes and grant me that freedom I so desperately wanted.

I admit it's hot.

I admit that the sun makes me stay indoors for ninety-nine percent of summer. I waste away inside, not really relaxing as much as I wished, but not really working as hard as I should anyway.

Perhaps there could be a happy medium – or at least this was what I told myself. Perhaps I could just dream of a summer in which I would be more willing to go outside and let my pale skin touch the sun's rays.

And being the dreamer I was, it was no large feat.

I dreamed of a summer where there were no people for miles. Where I was alone in a field of tall barley, picking my way through it with ease. At the clearing, I imagined there was just grass. Green grass – and when I looked behind me, the barley field had disappeared and what replaced it was an endless stretch of land.

Flowers dotted the earth, springing up from its place and clustering in groups, or stretching out to thousands and thousands as if painting a literal generation after generation's time with its roots.

I would lie down on my stomach, letting my legs swing up in the air freely, crossing them at the ankles as I propped myself up on my elbows and closed my eyes. A smile would grace my otherwise normal features, and I would only open them when something soft tickled my nose.

In front of me was the lovely face of a sunflower with its golden petals barely passing for yellow. I'd look down to see that I was now suspended in air, but there was no queasy feeling in my stomach because of the height.

Only awe sparked as I watched the sunflower turn its face to the one and only sun itself, unfolding its leaves and easily multiplying.

I would slide down the large stem after a while, bidding my goodbyes to the sunflowers as they bobbed their heads up and down. Taking my leave, there would be a familiar tune at my lips – a lilting piece that made its way through the air, carried by the wind that spread secrets and scattered wishes.

And perhaps I might have been a little lonely, so I would lie down on the soft grass once again and stretch my hand up, pointing to one cloud and musing aloud how much it resembled a human being.

Then, by some imagination, that cloud would float down to the ground and grab my hand, taking me off with it. And somehow, I would feel myself being carried off with it as if I were floating, light as a feather.

So light that it was easy to settle into the grass again and be coaxed to sleep by the lazy warmth of the sun. It wasn't humid or unbearably hot, but a nice temperature that I remember I loved more than anything else.

I would let my growing locks out of its pins and stretch my legs out, breathing in and out until my breaths were rhythmic and soft. Orpheus would take me for an hour or so before I would get up and wonder about another part of my fantasy.

I would reach down to brush my hands across an unruly patch of clovers, looking for that lucky four-leaf. When I would find it, I wouldn't pluck it from its life source, but only admire it for a minute or two before waving goodbye to see the hydrangeas that shifted colors.

Lovely colors, they were, and when my fingers brushed against them, they would change colors before my eyes, from a charming periwinkle to a subtle blush and a delicate blue. It was as if my own brushes had dipped themselves into watercolors and painted the petals.

But then the scene would disappear from my eyes and I would be riding my bike along a path, watching the colors blur around me as the wind picked up my unruly hair and pushed me forward.

And them somehow, I would finally love summer, even though I knew it wouldn't last.

The sun would have to set some time, and the sky would have to turn from its clear blue to a bruised sky, and this dream of mine would end.

I dreamed of a summer where I didn't have to worry about anything. Where school was just out of reach and spring had already flown by.

~ e.h.

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Cover photo by @watashi_16 on instagram