I never see dreams in any way other than the first-person perspective. I was younger than my age. My limbs were light and made no odd clicks regardless how I would move them. I stood at the edge of a bronze gondola foliated with golden leaves and red roses carved from cherrywood. The ferris wheel was fluid and merely clicked like the sound of a ragdoll's limbs. It gave the soft repose of a faint stream on the edge of hearing distance. As I grasped the edge of the gondola while leaning outward, barely able to stick my little head out of the edge, I could see the sky featuring the pink, purple, and blue colors not unlike those of cotton candy. "I am in a child's world," my mind said to itself. As my bastion descended, I felt the plummeting disorder of my innards and tightened my stomache, for it was all I knew to do that could possibly help. Above the clouds stood small, horseshoe-shaped, rainbows that stood like flags over almost every cloud and each color had surfaces as opaque as pearl. But the roof and the wheel circling me to the bottom blocked the sky, and diverted my attention to the familiar field around me. It had pieces of places I have seen before, in parks, summer camps, backyards. By having been to all these places that I see parts of in my surrounding environment, the realm I was in no longer felt so outlandish to me, although there were no other souls in sight. I felt the wind clasp the sides of my neck, and saw the clouds open up as I ascended once again. The cracking roar of the sky made way for some raindrops. I could not see the origin of the raindrops due to the luminous clouds, but cheered, "Yehoo, Sunshower!" as I raised up my arms.
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