To the moon

          The grass smelled fresh, like in the early spring. The sky was clear, just like her thoughts for the first time in a long time. No obligations, no pressure. Just a simple night with a simple wish. How  can it be so beautiful, the Moon. She wondered. Shining, but not as much as the Sun. Rotating, but not as slow as the Sun. And so close you can almost swim to it, while it descends into the ocean.
The Moon was not so close, but yet visiting it seemed so possible. Dreaming so much about standing on it’s shiny surface, dancing around, breathing in the chemicals…
Journey to the Moon has already happened. Why can’t it happen again?

          Her little foot slowly stood on the surface she always dreamed of. It wasn’t that shiny. It was all dust and disappointment. Emptiness, void, craters. A surface so cold and dead. How come it looked so appealing when it wasn’t in front of her?
Was it only beautiful because it was so far away?
Did it’s relfection in the ocean make her not see the reality?
Can something from a distance cloud your perspective so much?

What happens when your dreams come true and you realise you always dreamed of something you never actually wanted? Something you wasted tons of wishes for. Something you thought about every day and waited for every evening. What if you were wrong all along?


Have you any dreams you’d like to sell?
-Fleetwood Mac


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