Jasmin Kohl, Grade 8, St Scholastica's College
You’re falling, whirling out of control into a void of emptiness. You’re falling, and then you jolt yourself awake. We have all had that dream before, but then we wake up before falling too far. We are held back by fear. What if your fear impulse stopped working and you fell through the other side, and the impending doom that awaited you wasn’t all as bad as it seemed? What if you fell?
I landed in a cool body of water, but when I pulled myself out, I was dry.
This dream confused me.
I looked around. The stream wound its way down a mountain and trees lined a path between them. I took to that path. The trees caved in, like tight buildings in a small alleyway, ensnaring the sun. I checked the time; 2:30 am, but the middle of the day.
But hang on. Wait. I’m asleep. Or am I?
More confused than before, I waded on through a mist that was appearing before me. As I walked I continued to ponder.
I hurried through the mist that had thickened to a creamy fog that felt like froth on hot chocolate and smelt like roasting marshmallows and chestnuts. Heart beating at rapid pace, I reached the end of the clearing and the fog was near to gone. Suddenly, the forest cleared, and the daylight vanished as if the sun had been plucked from the sky. Stars glowed like fairy lights on the trees in the local park, only they glowed brighter, bigger until I was encompassed entirely by light that was followed by a single lemon, yellow flower. Then I was in a coffee shop, which a bundle of the same yellow flowers on the counter, the smell of mocha and Crème brûlée drift through the air and as I inhale, the scenery around me changes again. I was on the beach. Where before I was wearing shoes, now my toes were squelching, squishing though the snow-white sand, a 20 metre high wave crashed down on me and suddenly I was swimming through schools of rainbow fish and riding the backs of turtles. Next, I put a dust covered book on a bookshelf. The bookshop smelt like chamomile tea and dripping wax, and around the corner appeared a boy. His eyes captivated me, a base of hazelnut brown and cinnamon with a swirl green like fresh shooting grass. As I stare deeper into the swirls of his mesmerising eyes, the swirls of green become my only vision. Then,
I landed back in my bed and awoke to the buzzing sound of my alarm just like normal, yet what I experienced was not a dream. It was a reality; my reality which was created from real life and imagination. Now when I fall, through my dreams, I allow my imagination to take me places; I don’t fight it and I’m not scared of it.
All you have to do is