A dream of a winter forest day

I’m writing this days after I’ve had this dream, so the details are lost to me. All I remember is this.

I’m with my family. We’re in a hut of sorts in the woods, it’s winter and the snow is laying thick around the place. There are some people here I don’t recognize, I think we’re with the army, but we’re also alone.
the trees are tall, you’d think we were in Russia for some reason, they’re so tall and dense together, I couldn’t see far into the forest before the darkness took over, even in broad daylight. The snow was crisp and thick, laying about knee height around the hut we were at. A bit from the place was a river. You knew it was ice cold, without even putting your hand in it. It was a slow river, making little clucking noises as it passed by us. But we didn’t really notice over the sound of a helicopter.
We were standing outside when we heard the helicopter. It was scary, we were all tense. It didn’t seem a good sign. My stepdad had a stern face, deadly determined, something I don’t usually see in him unless he’s really mad at me. Something happened. A lightning strike? It was early afternoon and a white overcast over the forest. No thunder, just the light. And the helicopter was spinning out of control. Down to the grown until it became a thousand pieces and smoke.
I knew there were people on board and some could have survived.  But my stepdad’s face only hardened and I knew he wasn’t going to check on them. Instead he turned around and prepared to leave. I had to check on them though, some could still be breathing, hoping for help. But I was stopped, I couldn’t go, and I think I woke up then.


What I Want

A laptop and a bag I can have it in over my shoulder.
Then I can walk for miles with my camera around my neck, the computer on my shoulder and a little wallet in the right pocket. I shall walk with the stunning music I found on 8Tracks and dream. Walk on roads of fantasy and look upon this world with my glasses of amazement. Every store I see I will see. Every person I will meet.

I want to walk and find a tiny coffee shop.

Then I can sit and write. Find the words that left me for my carrier. Smells of new-made coffee, mixed with the plants perfume from the window ceiling, the old wooden walls speak to me through my nose and tell tales I know no words to retell.I want to think in a place where I can be true.
Then my inner thoughts will be revealed to myself and I can know who I am. Ideas buried under the high pressure of expectations of failure, logic, realism. Images washed away with the soap of foretold future. Believes that one cannot do what no one else has done. No one can truly believe in the fairy tales.

I want to live in my head.
Only then can I complete my dreams.

Inspired by: