I was flying. It was a wonderful feeling — freeing, somehow. I was weightless and soaring through the air like I was a bird. When I looked down at my hands, they were shriveled and blackened. Somehow, I knew it was due to the curse of being what I was, what I am now as well.
This curse didn’t diminish my joy in flying. I was so happy that I laughed out loud. It wasn’t foreign from those lips as it is to mine. Laughter is so rare now.
I landed not long after and the dream ended. When I awoke, I could still feel the wind on my cheeks and my hair felt windswept.