A short, surreal story about a girl who just couldn't dream
There were wild horses on the hill, assorted coloured oblongs punctuating the flat green slope. They looked like something straight out of dream, she thought, although she had never experienced one.
Her nights were matt black and uneventful, her slumber long and lifeless, but she always rose with a heavy head, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Where did her thoughts go as she slept? As soon as her head touched the pillow, it was like she lost herself. She wondered if her mind left her body because she was so unaware of everything as she lay in her bed.
Her waking life was very different, her thoughts drifted through the day, time gently melting away as she glided through each experience. She would flit from one thought to the next, like a bee amongst flowers. Concentration didn’t come easy when she was awake.
There were wild horses on the hill – just a moment ago. Her eyes ran up and down the green and across the edges. The horses had gone. Had she imagined them?
Maybe she experienced things the wrong way round. Maybe she lived a dream.