I’m crumpled up. I’m wrapped in twisty cotton and my eyes are pockets of dreams. The visions in my head are gifts on a cloud that I can dole out to those who fail to dream or to those who want more of the very same thing. Or to keep for myself if need be.

They’re unruly, these dreams. Puffed from nowhere and everywhere. Strange and far they seem, near and wispy they are. A breath can send them far, far away or send a clutter of pearls breaking through the sky.

For us to catch.

Hold on to dreams. Hold on to sky. Fly with them. Fly far, far away. 



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