Oooold story – What Dreams Are Made Of

I think this may have been the first time I wrote a story just for the fun of it. I don’t like reading it back and have tweaked it a little since I wrote it around five years ago.


What Dreams Are Made Of


The wind blew through the fields, creating wild patterns in the cereal, tossing them about with not a care in the world. The cereal had little knowledge of what moved them, simply that they did and that they should resist. They stuck firmly in the ground but started to give into temptation. They danced and they danced, embracing the powerful wind as though it had the same desires, blissfully ignorant to impending dangers as the dance took them over almost completely. They remained stationary at the roots, yet their dances became more vivid and complex. They would never be the same again and they knew it, but caring was not on the agenda any more.

In the next field was a simple cousin, most commonly known as grass. These were as unwitting as their relatives, but in a way which contrasted greatly. They had the desire to spread, to force themselves into the world, also not caring for consequences. They spread across the land as far as they could, but space here had been exhausted, there was only one direction to go now and that was up. They forced themselves up and up, ignoring the demise of their brethren. For in this field came a different danger, the wind was no real issue here, except for the highest climbers who often fell foul to the desire to dance free. This new danger thwarted their plans mercilessly. It devoured the high risers, yet the young did not care, they had their aspirations and certain failure would not stop them. They rose high and were picked off one by one, sent to one of seven dank pits to be transformed into something new.

In the first field the dance stopped abruptly. A mechanical menace came and reduced them to nothing more than their lowly cousins. Their remains were taken away, crushed and mixed relentlessly with others, then blasted in a furnace of unforgiving fire.

These were dark times for both, the cereal was crushed and burnt, whilst the grass took a more drawn out path. In the dank pit the grass was rapidly transformed by bacteria, until spewed out in a vat and left to rot over time.

The cereal and grass in their now unrecognisable forms ended up in a new location very close together. Both were being kept in cool, dark holding areas, preparing for a big event, hoping not to miss the small window of opportunity.

They were to be united; the chance was slim, yet they had faith. This faith held strong and they battled through extreme doubt until the moment finally came. The cereal came first, burning with what could seem like anger to the untrained eye, but then came the grass, and they burnt passionately together, becoming one.


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