Yes, this story is supposed to be repetitive. =P I don't know why I wrote it- it just came to my head while I was trying to go to sleep last night. It's rather short and all, but I thought I'd post it here. Hope it's not that bad, lol. I didn't even edit it. O_O Oh well.
What is a Dream?
Dream.
What is a dream?
Is it reality?
Is it fantasy?
Is it something else?
What is a dream?
Dream.
---
“Mommy,” The young girl stared up into her parent’s eyes, “What is a dream?”
Her mother was a knitter, a hard worker, a serious woman. She was never one to slack off or not give something her all. It wasn’t hard to guess that she was among the top of her company in which she worked. Being such a hard worker didn’t make her any less motherly, of course, and she made it her job to p@ss on the belief that hard work would always pay off in the end.
“A dream is something you work hard for and hope to achieve,” Her mother explained, smiling as she set down her current knitting project.
The younger one of the two smiled, “Thank you, Mother,” before leaving the living room and entering the pearly clean kitchen.
An elderly woman sat at the dining room table, a porcelain cup of tea perched between her two hands, long and wrinkled claw-like fingers wrapped tightly around it, blue veins standing out sharply. Her eyes scanned the newspaper stretched out on the table, the words too tiny for the little girl to see from such a distance. Narrow green eyes in a sea of wrinkles averted their gaze from the newspaper to stare at the little girl. Grandma was a reader, someone who always valued the gift of writing. She was always trying to make things better and frequently wrote poetry along with stories.
“Grandma,” The little one clasped her hands as she sat down beside her Grandmother, “What is a dream?”
The cup of tea made a small clink as it gently was placed on the table, “A dream is a desire straight from the heart that you wish for,” Her Grandmother said wistfully, “Something that your very being burns with. It is something that makes up part of your soul’s cores…a very strong yearning.”
“Thank you, Grandma,” She smiled up, beaming at her poetic Grandmother, before slipping out into the hall as silent as a newborn lamb.
Big Brother was not the happiest of all the people in the world. He was easily irritated and was known for his fiery temper, liable to be unleashed at any given moment. More of a social guy who preferred being with his friends, he never showed his brotherly love towards his sister, if he even had any. She bumped into him in the hall, looking up into his face unafraid of his possible anger.
“Big Brother,” She began in her innocent tone, “What is a dream?”
“A dream is a fantasy- it isn’t real, no matter how much you wish it to be, or to be simpler, just something you see when you’re not awake,” He pushed past her without uttering another word- blunt and not very happy as usual.
She whispered, “Thank you, Big Brother,” even though he was already at the door and no longer within earshot, and then walked into one of the rooms down the hall.
“Daddy,” Just like the others, she began her question with the name of the one who she addressed, “What is a dream?”
Her father, gracious and warm as he always was, scooped her up and set her down on his knee in the cl@ssic father-child pose. She smiled, wrapping her arms around him and awaiting his answer. He was a patient man, always one to take things simple and tried to have fun while he was at it. Every weekend was spent doing family activities, whether it be taking a visit to the library or going to see the new Disney movie at the movies with an extra large bowl of buttered popcorn and soda.
“A dream,” He began, holding her close, “Is the reason someone exists. They live for it just to make it come true- or, if it already has come true, to enjoy it and bask in its luxuries.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
She hugged him again and left the room. A large German shepherd bounded down the hall, ears perked up and tongue exposed, flopping around like a loose ribbon. The little girl bent down and let him run into her arms, his tongue wetting her face happily. Their embrace was a part of average day life- an act expressing their affection. She scratched him behind the ear where she knew he liked it best.
“Guess what I learned today?” She sat down and let his body warm her up, “I learned what a dream was. A dream is something that you hope for and strive to achieve with hard work. It’s something that makes up who you are- your entire being, to be precise, and a very strong desire. A dream is something that may not be true- possibly just fiction, no matter how hard you wish it wasn’t. And a dream is a reason for living. It’s something you see when you’re not awake- something your mind generates.”
The dog seemed to smile. He faded away, along with everything.
The little girl woke up.
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