If I was ever asked to define a dream, I’d have to say that a dream is something to look forward to. I collect shattered dreams so I should know. Those who dream usually put themselves out into the world to achieve their goals. But what happens when a dream is achieved? Would their days thereafter always be filled with complete happiness, or boredom? Might that be why people often make impossible dreams? Despite my duty to collect shattered dreams, there were still many mysteries for me to discover. That was what made living day by day tolerable.
I woke up as quickly as I slept. There wasn’t a single ache or tear in my body as I propped myself onto the floor of my room. I walked over to the bathroom to wash my face. The water that came out of the tap was crystal and upon impact to my skin washed over me like a wave of summer. Once I was done, I went to the table, grabbed my jar and proceeded out. My morning rituals as it were, were quite barren, at least, compared to a human. Though it was simple enough to allow me to start my days collecting shattered dreams. In the end, that was all I was good for. I’m a divine created for a purpose, and so, I shall seek to it that my purpose be met. Lest I run and find myself swallowed by my room.
Usually my door would lead me into a city or town. I would be met with the bustle of life. But as my senses cleared I quickly realized the oddity of my location. I stepped out of a closet to what appeared to be an abandoned home. The bed itself was barely standing on its rusted wooden stands. The closet I had come out of was tearing at every limb and every step I took filled the home with my presence. The nightstand seemed to want to crumble at a touch, and the door leading to the hallway was discolored beyond recognition. Everything smelled of a dead forest.
I opened the door leading to the hallway and stepped out. The entire home seemed ready to return to Earth. I was careful in not exerting too much pressure in my steps lest the home crumble. It wasn’t that I could be hurt by anything man made, but I didn’t want to trouble the World of the Living. I was to collect shattered dreams, that was my duty. I had no time to mingle about. Though, that was also a lie.
I made my way to a set of stairs leading towards the main floor. Every step was an ordeal all of its own as their creaks filled the musty air. As I got to the base of the stairs, I noticed the front door. The glass was still intact, but it was muddled and rendered worthless. There was a doorway to my right and my left, and behind the stairs was another door. I wondered if such an abode would hold a shattered dream. Though perhaps it may have been more prudent to wonder if the furniture also produced dreams.
I peered over the doorway to my right which led to a kitchen. It was worn beyond time and yet, somehow still felt lively.
I then walked to the doorway to my left which led into a living room. It was worn beyond time and yet, somehow still felt lively.
As I stepped towards the main door, I heard the skitter of a child behind me. I turned towards the door behind the stairs. I wondered if anyone was brazen enough to set up residence in such a place. It wasn’t that I was concerned for the wellbeing of any human that would be so desperate. But it seemed interesting. However, the thought also occurred that it might have been a divine. The World of the Living was no stranger to my kind roaming about, and if they wanted me to recognize their presence, they would surely open up to the idea. Though, most divines played by their own rules. I proceeded with caution.
I pressed my hands towards the door and slowly peered it open. If someone had taken residence they surely would have noticed the noise I produced. As I swung the door open, producing another air filled creak, I stepped into the back hallway. No one was waiting for me. I looked around the barren hallway. There was only a single door that presented itself to me.
I listened to my footsteps ring throughout the rot of the wood. However, by the time I reached the end of the hallway, no one had responded to my presence. I felt more than a little disappointed, but as I was about to turn and leave on the notion that perhaps I was mistaken, I heard the skitter again. It seemed someone was skipping as the floorboards creaked down before popping back up.
I opened the door, producing a creak enough to wake the dead, and entered into a large backroom. A window faced me as I stepped in. A cascade of sunlight filtered into the room exposing the dust in the air. And not too far from the doorway was a tiny girl skipping along on a pathway drawn by chalk. She was halfway through a skip, landed onto the tile labeled with the number four and looked over towards me. She had long hazelnut hair that seemed to stick to her body. Her expression as she looked at me was clear. Other than the chalk on the floor, the room was devoid of any furniture.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to be as gentle as possible. I didn’t have a chance to see what kind of appearance the door gave me as I entered into the World of the Living. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust, my room’s discretion, but I hoped that I was wearing something befitting a kind woman who just so happened to collect shattered dreams.
“I’m playing,” she answered after a long bout of hesitation. I figured she would have some resistant towards a stranger. Despite this, her voice was resolute, and came out like a storm.
“Why are you here?” She asked in response. It was an appropriate question for an appropriate situation. But I was something of a chain liar.
“I was interested in this home and walked in.” I smiled for her. Though, she only raised her eyes. It didn’t take her long before answering.
“Interested?” She turned her entire body over, placed both her hands onto her hips, and with a haughty tone, continued, “This place is empty, there’s nothing here, what could you be interested in?” She was still a child in elementary school and yet she had berated me for inquiry.