I Met My Future Wife In My Dreams— But something is weird.

Her voice is like the thin faint song when the wind wearily sighs in the grass, a sound of nature and the body of the lives; she was singing a melody that captive the heart by listening to the sound the whole ecosystem of plants is alive, the crumbling voice and the head bright start crawling and coming from my ears and sight, the beautiful melody, a notorious drum, the wind that carries nothing but the notes of love. The best symphony for her voice rose like a stream of rich distilled perfumes; only the very best, the finest for what I loved. The angel of desire, the loved of my life. Here is what I picture her in my dreams.

Last night was very long hours of rest; I stood in the corner for I dreamed of someone I am unsure if from the future or comes from the past. Just one thing is that we were loved in the game we played in the dimension of dreams; we were in a hurry, for love seems to have an ending; the forever we desired had nothing compared to what it dictates to live and love. I know nothing about this woman, but I know we both love each other from the moon and back.

The scene is in the near glassy feeblest of streams, as her smile was unmistakable. The scenery where the face of an angel from heaven is likely lived from the earth to captivate me with her gracious glance, the graceful walk of her slender feel in the pebbles of water, like a leaf that floats in the streams of love, and I am the sinner who captivates and wanted to take. Swing and swung, and she was like a swan. The white swan dancing in the baler orchestra is visible as she uses the power of nature.

I see her eyes as the glooming moon inside, the bright shadow of no regrets. A picture of happiness as I come close to her. Is this what the fairy looks like? The glamour of the lengthy wave of sunshine feeling, the love and desire nothing upon the lust. Impatience like the wind, I come across to her to kiss and hug her. Her soft skin is the delicate picture of spotless like snow; the quiet and might skin burst some strange feeling in my stomach as more butterflies come out from cocoon; felt like the Lonestar feeling of mine that hibernate is woken up as the butterflies waves flew to my heart.

I was stung like a frozen lush as the fairy of snow is what I hold, the skin that soft and sound of her voice is like hunting me in my dreams, a fairy creature that was moving, graceful flow like I am the prey for her to cast. Like I am enchanted by her look, the glance of perfect face of an angel, nor a demon.

Something woke me up; I stood in the dirt in the middle of the forest.

I wonder where she is now, her face as the snowflakes, the fairy I am with. Still, the desire is wishing myself to look at her, anywhere and when the forest guides me, maybe the Clift.

It started again as her voice casts a furious spell to catch her. Leading me somewhere, but it's the darkness I supposed in a cave, maybe because I see nothing but the night out of the skies. I guessed who it was, a distant star glimmering steadily in the evening. It's here as she calls my name with the sound of a fairy-like voice. It's getting near and near. As I continue to walk along, she tells me more and more to convince me to come inside. The great tune where my body moved, coming closer and closer.

I have seen the reality after; it's not a dream anymore. It feels like I was in the summoning of a demon, not an angel. It handles the hottest and trembling as I continue. She wasn't snow, and she was on fire. It's purgatory, not heaven.

This is creative writing, made exclusively by writer Eunoia; the picture told is part of the author's wild imagination, based on reality or dreams that depict the author's thoughts at the moment he made the piece. Thanks for reading.