I loved those glass dolls perched on their long glass tubes. I loved watching him make them. I wanted one of them, too bad I did not have money to buy one and I don't like it when I don't have money.
Then there was this large empty open air theater. Five other friends were roaming around. I loved the place. It was painted in red and had curved staircases. I took a silent corner, sat down and began to think. Then two others joined me. They sat alone too.
Then came a little boy. He brought a wooden stick and a red colored ball with him. He played. I did not like the way he was hitting the ball around the theater. The ball went up hoping to fly away only to come down and get hit again. Once or twice the ball flew out of the theater. The boy ran out and brought the ball back in and continued to play.
I could bear it no longer. I got up, ran towards the perplexed boy and kicked the red colored ball. It flew away into the sky, only it did not. I was still sitting in the same place, thinking and unconsciously gazing at the ball. I lost myself.
Today, I'm sick. I can't lift a finger. There is this strange thing that happens when one's sick, the mind goes crazy. Even the dreams that I get during the short naps that I take unconsciously are so crazy that I think I'll remember them all my life, only I don't.
Life is a dream they say. I go back to dream.