I had a dream.
I had a dream I was standing still, immobile in my body and in my life. I picked apart a cup of frozen custard in an outdoor bar, overlooking a park of rolling hills where some children played. Night stretched overhead, endless. The Universe was the sky.
I was standing still, and yet, as in the daylight, my soul pressed against the bars of my body, wishing, reaching, groaning.
And I saw a glimmering light. The brightest thing on the horizon, sparking and refracting. The children continued to play, the night continued to pass, and the Light called to me, every inch of me, body and soul. And I ran.
Legs stretched, I sprinted up and down those rolling hills, onward onward. It must have been day by now, but the Universe was the sky and I was free and the world belonged to me. So I ran.
Cliffs passed by, tall mirrors that stretched into the sky exploded in the light, my Light. Ocean waves licked at my heels and crashed behind me—they were small now, small, small, and I was still running.
The Light glinted from far away, seducing me, mesmerizing me, resolving me. Days and days must have passed, but the sky was the Universe, and I had no need for food or drink when I had the Light set before me and the solid ground beneath me.
My strong legs stretched across grass and wood and gravel and sea. I became the percussion of my feet connecting with the ground. I became the Light before me. I became the breath in my lungs—the Universe seeping into me and threading through my veins.
I had a dream that I was running, running, running.
I ducked under great monuments, only acknowledging them to dodge past. The light pulsed before me, its halos of light brightening the black, black sky.
I came to a dock, my reliable feet pounding on the long wooden boards. And at the end, I settled my feet with great effort, and I tilted my face toward the Light.
It was the Moon. I looked at her and she at me, and I knew that she had taken me this whole way so I could feel the pounding of my feet and the breath in my lungs. So I could pass cliff and sea and hill and wood and know what it was to feel their air against my skin and feel their touch beneath my fingers.
I looked at her, and she at me, and I realized that she would always have waited. Centuries, she would have waited for me.
I had a dream that I raced to the end, when the point was the path along the way. Yet now I knew the swiftness of my feet, and the resolve in my heart, and I knew I could do anything.