Today's prompt:
Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself, she would wake up. But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream where...
Perhaps it was a dream, she thought. Perhaps if she pinched herself, she would wake up. But she didn’t want to wake up. She wanted to stay in this dream where everything felt light.
She sat at the patio table, sunlight warming her shoulders as she watched the kids splashing in the pool, their laughter bouncing off the water. Her husband stood by the grill, music humming from the speaker beside him, a cigar resting between his fingers like he was auditioning for a commercial. The puppies curled at her feet, occasionally nudging her as if to say, “Don't forget about us.”
She opened her notebook, letting the pen glide across the page. A soft breeze carried the smell of charcoal, and she breathed it in like medicine. Days like this — slow, warm, unhurried — were her favorite. Family time always felt like a reset button for her soul.
Her mother stepped outside, smiling. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a vibration buzzed against the table.
Her eyes flew open. “Oh damn,” she groaned, slapping at the nightstand like she saw a mosquito. It was her phone. “That was a vivid dream.”
The phone kept at it, rude and relentless, like it had absolutely no respect for the peace she was enjoying in her head. She sat up, squinting at the ceiling. Another workday. Another morning of pretending she wasn’t betrayed by her own subconscious.
She swung her legs out of bed. “If this ice isn’t melted today, I’m filing a complaint with the universe.”
But for a moment, she stayed still, letting the warmth of the dream linger — the sun, the laughter, the ocean‑level peace — before stepping back into the real world.
