Dreaming of Venice by Joshie

If you could dream, what would it be?

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The water beneath me pools down into depth unreachable

and unimaginable. The sky above is cloudy but also young, wild

and free; how spacious. Seagulls and other birds make their

presence known by their constant gawking and chirping; how

quaint but yet disturbing. I think to myself, “oh how this

juxtaposes with life.” Every now and then I see and hear

bubbles that form on the water’s surface. I could touch them

and pop them with my fingers, or I could even strip and jump

out of the single boat I’m in, but no, this is not the right

time to be goofy. It is a beautiful morning with the sun’s

rays filtering through the clouds and buildings alike,

reminding me of that infamous scene from Lion King when Simba

is glorified as a cub. So many different colors are spread out

all over me, they expand and contract, flirting and playing

with one another. It seems that the gondola I’m in won’t stop,

but that doesn’t matter to me. I’m not here to escape life,

worries or work, in fact I don’t know why I took a sabbatical,

but then again, why does there need to be a reason for

anything? My life is empty, blank, and especially tasteless,

like this iced coffee in my hand. Perhaps the ice has diluted

the taste, like a lot of things in my life, just diluted. I

shake my head in response to my inner monologue and gaze

onwards. I take a deep breath, and as I exhale, I know exactly

where I am. I am dreaming of Venice. 

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