The me in my dream.

I had a dream of freedom, of my truest wish. I was in a large mall-like structure with my family. My mom was yelling about something, though I had no clue what it was. All I knew was that I felt deep in my gut that it was silly and laughable, not worth listening to.

Then, the me in my dream did something I couldn’t comprehend: he walked away. He went outside the mall into a beautiful grassy plain beneath a grey sky, with a soothing drizzle of rain falling. He looked to the right and saw a tall, almost ominous forest. And the me in my dream ran—no hesitation, no concerns, no worries—towards this ominous yet oh-so-beautiful forest. I ran through it, feeling like I had covered miles in mere seconds.

Before I knew it, there was a barrier of shrubbery. Without hesitation, the me in my dream jumped into the shrubs, straight into a huge river. He didn’t falter or stop; he swam, full of life and joy, through the flowing river, barely making it to the other side. As he climbed out, his voice—the voice of the me in my dream—rang inside my head, speaking of the beauty of the forest and the freedom it held.

When I awoke from my dream, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but feel such joy—yet also jealousy. I had finally found my dream in life, yet I was so jealous of the me in my dream.