Sometimes I just sit and watch the horizon, dreaming of my younger self. Remembering the version of me that knew nothing of what I would become, the adult who sits here today.
As I drift into sleep the noises are the same as back then – the birdsong, the distant rumble, the leaves in the wind. Constant sounds that have always existed, making me wonder if it is all a myth, if I could close my eyes and slip away, returning to that younger version of me, dreaming of my future self.
A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers. A bit more dreamy than usual, but the photo kinda suggested it.
Photo (c) Jan Wayne Fields