Dreamers Dream
Dreamers Dream 😴💤
https://youtube.com/shorts/QVvzWv5GVO0?is=e0q_OBtQ1rGZf4WT
Three voices followed Scott home that summer night.
Their songs lingered long after the evening had ended.
By midnight, he could no longer tell whether he was remembering the past or imagining it.
The house was quiet.
The cursor blinked.
Outside, the city settled into darkness.
Inside, the laughter remained.
A line from Shakespeare drifted through his thoughts.
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?"
He smiled.
The words were old.
The feeling was not.
Somewhere between memory and imagination, the names began to blur.
Three names from tonight.
Three names from long ago.
The years dissolved like mist above a moonlit lake.
Then the dream began.
In the dream, Scott wandered beneath towering trees beside quiet waters. The roads had vanished. The noise of the world had vanished. Only the moon remained, silver and watchful above the forest.
In the distance, three voices sang.
The melodies were unfamiliar, yet somehow he knew them.
The songs drifted through the leaves like ballads carried on a summer breeze.
Laughter followed.
Warm.
Carefree.
Alive.
The voices reminded him of another time.
Another chapter.
A younger man appeared among the trees.
Dark-haired.
Hopeful.
Full of questions.
Scott recognized him immediately.
It was himself.
The younger man never seemed surprised.
He simply smiled, as though he had been expecting him all along.
Around them, the dream continued.
Names drifted through the night air.
Faces appeared and disappeared.
Old friends.
New friends.
Memories.
Possibilities.
The boundaries between them no longer mattered.
What remained was the feeling.
Youth.
Wonder.
Joy.
The younger man listened to the distant laughter.
"So they're still out there?" he asked.
Scott nodded.
"They always were."
The younger man smiled.
The songs continued.
For a moment, neither spoke.
The night seemed endless.
Then, from somewhere deep within the forest, a voice shouted:
"CANNONBALL!"
The laughter that followed rolled through the trees like thunder.
The younger man laughed.
The older man laughed.
And for one perfect moment, thirty years disappeared.
The dream began to fade.
The moonlight softened.
The trees dissolved into morning light.
The younger man turned and walked quietly into the distance.
Scott watched him go.
For the first time, he felt no desire to follow.
Youth had never vanished.
It had simply passed into other hands.
Other voices.
Other dreamers.
The songs were still playing somewhere beyond the horizon.
The laughter was still alive.
And that was enough.
Scott awoke.
The cursor still blinked.
Morning had arrived.
He looked at the empty page and smiled.
Then he began to write.
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