“It takes 12 to complete the
Circle.”
“13 Angels”
“12 Minutes”
I asked myself, is it that time
already? Is it the 29th of the month, when I’m bound to have my dose
of crazy dreams? Nope, it was the 22nd when I checked my phone.
My mind was probably stressed out
to make such unimaginable chimera.
There were planes, wings, and
pine trees.
I was an angel? I had wings, and
was wearing white dress. I was flying about a good inch above the ground. I
wanted to fly higher but it is only where my wings would take me. I was flying
all over the place, blowing people’s hair, touching the leaves of pine trees,
dropping the snow that accumulated on it, and enjoying the glamour it gives me,
for not being seen.
I rode a plane. It was still,
looking for a new destination. We were on an old, slum-like place of somewhat
between China and Thailand. There were flags of Chinese characters all over the
place; it was as if a feast had taken place. It was dark and eerie, no signs of
life. People were probably tired and drifted to sleep, maybe it was dawn. The
plane was some kind of a spaceship for us, angels.
“It takes 12 to complete the
Circle.”
But we were thirteen on the
plane. But it was the voice I heard in my dreams. I was the thirteenth.
“12 Minute.” I can’t decipher the
message it was sending. 12 minutes of what? 12 minutes to where? I have no
idea. It was the voice I heard.
I still can remember clearly
every detail in my dream, but it’s as if someone is covering my thoughts, and I
can’t put everything into words. Anyway, this is the gist of it. I want to
remember it in the future.
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