Dreams Twist Reality (In Progress)

When one dreams their mind wanders. It goes through scenarios that are often
unbelieveable. They each, in turn, have an effect upon the person, both mind and body. It is through these dreams that our fears can come to life. We can live out our greatest desires. We can live forever. We can die. We can bring back the dead. We can do the impossible. That is why everyone wishes for their dreams to be reality. It is in our dreams that we can show our true colors because no one else can see them. In our dreams we are truely alive. Dreams belittle reality. Reality glorifies dreams. We can't live without them. But why can we live with them? Is it really fair for our minds to create an ideal lifestlye for us? They show us something that is forever out of our reach. They show us how terrible reality really is. It is this fact that starts my life. It is these dreams that rule my world.

         The world stirred. Wind blew over the land, rustling the leaves, dancing with the trees as it passed. It blew through my hair, making it fly around my face, gently caressing my cheeks and neck as it landed. The forest painted a mural over the land. It's bright colors and falling leaves littered the canvas below; the earth.
         I watched as the trees moved. I watched as the leaves fell around me, leaving a puzzle in my wake. This is what I saw that peaceful fall morning as I walked among nature, happy to be away from the confines of my stifling house.
         I often took morning walks. It calmed my spirit and let me drift through the day as easily as these leaves floated with each gust of wind. My home was les than satisfactory, but it is where I was brought into this world. It is where I will live for the rest of my life.
         I followed the deep, dark, gravel path to the end of the forest preserve. The opening at the end giving way to more sunlight than I expected, being the light at the end of my hallway. I exited the forest's reserve and comfort, stepping into the cold, unpredictable town I knew so well.
         I looked around. The street just ahead of me was still devoid of any cars; devoid of life. I walked across this street to the sidewalk at the other end. My house was only a few blocks down, so when I reached the other end of the street I turned to the right and made my way home.

         Home.
         I walked through the front door. In the hallway I stopped to remove my shoes, placing them in the coat closet by the front door. There were no other shoes in the closet. I was home alone.
         I walked down the whitewashed hallway, the walls just as blank and unmarked as my mind. On the wall was a single stain, identical to the stain in my heart. It represents the day my father turned against us. It represents the day my parents left my life forever. Everytime I passed the stain on the wall the memories would resurface. Like a broken record the scene would keep playing in my mind until I found something suitable enough to replace it.
         The stain was a faded, deep, dark red; the color of blood-my mother's blood. It was only a year ago that my father killed her. It was only a year ago that I began to dream.

         I glided up the stairs in a daze and entered the bathroom to take my morning shower. The hot water pounded on my head, clearing it even more.
         When I was done I stepped out, the steam parted for me like a milky white crowd of people parting for an attraction. In this house I was an attraction.
         I glanced at my refelction in the mirror, taking in my ghostly appearance. My dark  black hair brushed my shoulders, it's usual curls bouncing with every step I took. I bright green eyes drew attention while my thin, pouty lips diverted it. I frowned at myself while I attempted to tame the wild beast that my hair had become.
         I was finally able to settle with the gentle curls that came out after the fight with the brush and hair dryer. I slipped into a pair of blue jeans and a simple white, V-neck top. My backpack finished my ensemble, hanging lightly onto my shoulder and swinging back and forth with every step.
         I descended the stairs to the door. Grabbing the keys from the table by doorway, I left the house just as quiet and empty as when I had got there.