From where he soared, he could see cars the size of beetles crawling down the road to the hectic downtown. People the size of ants sauntered about. He passed by a skyscraper and looked in. A couple of employees were in some kind of meeting. How boring, James thought to himself. Work was for reality, and reality could wait. What he wanted now was fun and frolic.
He tilted downwards and willed himself to fall like a hawk. The windows of the skyscrapers flew past him. The air swept by him in gusts. The ground rushed towards him. He was speeding down and down and down on towards the ground. Suddenly he realized that he couldn't control or stop his flight. The gray, concrete street below him came dangerously closer and closer, but he couldn't stop.
His eyes widened.
James woke up with a gasp. He was lying on his bed. He sat up on the bed for a while, and then smiled to himself.
His mom seemed to have got up already. She'd placed a cup of tea on the nearby table. He got out of bed and opened his bedroom door.
A gust of wind blew into the room. It was all he could do to grab the door and the wardrobe to keep himself from falling. He looked outside. There were a dozen snow-capped mountains in the distance. Snow blew in with the wind. Nowhere in sight was the usual half-lit drawing room. He was dreaming and he knew it. He smiled and stretched out his arms to fly.
Suddenly James woke up, yawning. There was a hot cup of tea on the table near his bed. He drank it and headed for the door.
His mom was up already, drinking her tea in the half-lit drawing room. James felt unusually pleasant today. He took a deep breath in. Smiling, he stretched out his arms to fly.
Reality can be the essence of the sweetest dreams, if you want it to be.
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