I had a dream one night. I could fly. By simply moving my fingers and hands, I could soar to unreasonable heights. I was the happiest person in the world. I could effortlessly glide through the air; gravity had NO effect on me; I could go wherever i wanted, and do whatsoever when I felt like it.

I could float down the road, or sleep like I was on a space shuttle.

Nothing could bring me down physically or emotionally.

I had no stress whatsoever, I was on top of the world.

then I woke up.
It was monday. The thirteenth. Of Monday.
I looked out the window. and it was raining. On Monday the thirteenth. I looked at my hands and tried to fly. I couldn't.