Through the mist of late-night reveries, I slip into realms where gravity bows to the whims of imagination. Each echo carries a whisper – the soft hum of nostalgia blended with fleeting moments, a kaleidoscope of forgotten faces murmuring their ancient tales.
In this dream, I walk on rain-soaked roads that lead to nowhere and everywhere. A peculiar magenta sky bends under the weight of our collective reminiscence. Whispers of starlight call to me, beckoning with surreal texture.
Stars drip like honey, a sweet liminal reality we concoct with every thought. And as a dreamer, I realize in this exquisite confine, I am both lost and found. Time pours like liquid mercury; the clock lagging behind as moments dissolve one into another.
Here, lost in the vortex, I find fragments: a child laughing, a solitary dog barking into the void, a girl spinning with wildflower crowns, our laughter echoing...
Echoes of time slip through the fingers of consciousness, like grains of sand scattered in a spectral wind.