Dream
I have a dream.
No, not like, a sleepy dream, no.
A dream like a vision of reality I’d want for myself.
Everyone got one of those, right?
Or maybe just the happy people,
Those who’s lives are comfortable enough,
To afford the time to dream about better realities.
Or maybe just the sad people,
Who need hope and something to look forward to,
To brighten the bleakness of everyday world.
Am I a happy or a sad person?
There is so much to dream for,
For myself, for the others, for the world.
All of the people I want best for,
Even if they want the worst for me and my kind
,
Can I make my dream
come true?
Is it okey to dream just for myself?
In my dream I’m not ,
I often wonder,
Just how many people want to stay in a shell they were born in,
The shell that restrains them in their day-to-day life,
The shell they didn’t choose by themselves.
Or maybe, they are not restrained?
Perhaps it’s just me, perhaps it’s just my shell.
No, impossible. My shell is not that special
.
In my dream I’m Frisk
,
I’m still young, just ,
It is nostalgia, it is closure, it is endless curiosity,
It is the bliss of not knowing, it is the comfort of not having to worry,
It is to be carefree, it is to be unburdened.
I’m not a human, I don’t have to be one right?
I’m a demon goat.
Two horns, spaded leathery tail, red eyes, gray fur,
Cloven hooves, goat muzzle, short height…
It’s silly, isn’t it? You are laughing aren’t you?
Out of fear and laughter, I prefer the latter,
Myself should bring joy, not fear,
After all, I’m not a human.
In my dream I hold a paw of my good friend or maybe a partner,
This distinction does not matter, what’s the difference, anyway,
We traverse fields of wheat and forests,
We sing, explore, chat, play, and observe,
We have great joy, no responsibilities,
All of that away, from the “great” civilization.
Am I wrong to dream this way? Is it foolish? Is it infantile?
Will I ever be able to experience even a part of it?
Would living through my dream truthfully make me happy?
Or am I just happy thinking about the dream?