THE DREAM MAP

At night, she curled up with her pillow and slipped into the images she allowed herself to see.

Bright. Calm. Waves. Sunshine that never ended.
She was told it was impossible. Unreachable. Foolish.
The more they said it, the less she listened.
With each year, the images grew more vivid. Her belief, dimmer.

She told herself there was still time.
She wasn’t sure she believed it.

Sometimes, she tried to repaint the pictures. Other times, erase them. Forget how they made her feel.

Sometimes it worked. Sometimes they drifted to the back of her mind.

She dreamed of a crystal ball to light her path. She searched for wizards. For guides.
They gave her glimpses—of their own dreams. Not hers.

So she kept dreaming.

Night after night.

She curled up. Closed her eyes.

And chased the visions that always stayed just out of reach.