Dreaming of Paris

The dreams are surreal.

I lie in bed preparing for sleep. I traveled thousands of miles to lie in this bed. I worked so hard to travel those miles. Finally, here I am with a whole new world just outside my door.


The dreams are luxurious.

I walk the polished sidewalks, relieved of the stress of a car. Each passer-by struts as if the cement were her catwalk; all with perfect model bodies, high cheekbones, and prominent jaws. I cross over and enter my favorite shop, browse the Armani and Dior racks as if I could have it all.


The dreams are relaxing.

I sit in my favorite corner cafe facing the sidewalk, enjoying the breeze. I've been here for over two hours and am on my third glass bottle Coke. I can feel that light breeze, the perfect temperature, run its fingers through my hair, sweeping away all worries, carrying to-do lists looping through the air like paper airplanes. My cell phone never rings, my watch never beeps - time stands still.


The dreams are breath-taking.

I spot it and freeze in my tracks admiring it from top to bottom, then ground to sky. My eyes float slowly to the tip engorged in the heavens, as if following a prayer on its way to God. Its glow blazes my trail to the green lawns surrounding, all manicured with perfection. I lay down on the fresh grass, never taking my eyes off of this wonder above me, the icon of this magical city.

Reviews

[Deleted]

Great job! You have a talent for detail.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Love it... what a beautiful dream you instill in the readers head with you adoring words... dreaming of that perfect place and time, you did it with perfection.