Blue Is the Color of My Soul

Part 1: D R E A M S

Blue

Adjective /blo͞o/  

Of a color intermediate between green and violet, as of the sky or sea on a sunny day

            The sky was a beautiful shade of blue as I walked through a field of grass. The wind felt amazing as it wrapped itself around me, whipping my hair wildly around my face. I had never seen the sun shine so brightly – I had never seen the sky without clouds, as blue as can be. As I walked through the field I found myself a nice spot to lie down. I closed my eyes. The sun warmed my cheeks, and I smiled. The soft aroma of flowers lingered in the air, and little birds chirped in the trees nearby. 

            I opened my eyes, and to my surprise I saw a man in the distance walking in my direction. He was a couple of feet away, yet he was close enough for me to get a good look at him. He was tall, thin, with marble-like skin and had ebony black hair that was elegantly slicked back.  Dressed in black and dark green, he walked toward me, smiling sweetly as he realized I was watching him. The mysterious man held a gold lily in his right hand and walked with a confident stride. I sat up, surprised to see someone else in this vast, never-ending field.

            “I saw you from afar, and thought you might need some company,” he said, stopping about a foot away from me. He smiled warmly, and extended the hand in which he held the delicate flower. “I saw this and thought you might like it.” I got up and walked toward him, smiling as I took the flower from his hand. “Thank you, it’s lovely,” I said, as I held it. I couldn’t help but blushing as I looked up at him – he was gorgeous. His smile was radiant, and his eyes were the most beautiful shade of green I’d ever seen. They were two emeralds outshining the sun.

            I held the flower to my nose, the sweet scent filling my nostrils. He moved the flower away and lifted my chin up with one of his long, graceful fingers. I looked deep into his eyes, getting lost in their beauty. I felt as though my heart was going to beat out of my chest as he cupped my face.  His eye made contact with mine, and I couldn’t help blushing as he leaned in for a kiss. I closed my eyes, preparing for the soft contact. But to my dismay, as I opened them, I was no longer with him. Instead of looking into this mystery man’s face, I was looking at my ceiling. 

            I covered my face with my hands, dissatisfied that I was once more living in reality. This was the third time I had dreamt about this man, and every time it ended the same way. Who was he? Where was he from? Is this my mind’s cruel way of reminding me I will never find someone? I lay there, frustrated, wondering how long these dreams would repeat themselves every night. I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow, letting out a huge sigh. “I will never find him,” I thought to myself.