Greater Dreams (Pt.2)
With the clamour dead, the pair returned. The stars are visible now. The girl stared at them and they stared back from their celestial throne down at the mottled clearing, dimly illuminated by both moonlight and the sky with its rippling colours.
The girl spoke first.
“So this it, and we’re going. For a million years. Until the end of time. Forever.”
“What’s wrong? We say farewells every second. To the past and residents of the past. What changed now is that we have a choice for once. Against time. For the first time.”
“So you’re running then. Because you’re scared.”
“Yeah. But not running from–Running to.”
“If you’re truly planning on running, then why did you bring them?”
The boy’s arms dropped from behind him. Clenched in them was video game and a foam bouncy ball that had the world printed on.
“That hardly describes you either.”
The girl wordlessly removed her back pack and rearranged the contents: the sketchbook, the pack of pencil crayons, and the picture book that were nestled inside.
The ferns were brushed back a final time. So the pair lugged the spaceship from its nest, knowing that their future both impatient and waiting for them.
The boy looking up at the stars, dreaming of cruising on starry rivers, beholding scenes fathomable only to boundless, forbidden imagination. He dreamed about freedom and triumph and exultation and escape from the great paradox.
The girl gazed up too, thinking about the multitude that seemed to invite them. But she knew that just a hairsbreadth in the celestial sphere here could mean separation not just in indifferent space but also merciless time. River or Ocean, the universe had its depths and corners.
They crawled in, one after another and took their places side by side. It was evident that at least a good pack of stickers were expended in addition to months of fixing, maintenance, and renovation. It almost looked good enough to spend a lifetime inside.
As the machine hummed to life and lights systematically turned on, the pair seemed asymmetrically silent. Any onlookers may have said that it was perhaps a dysfunctional firework, although they would be left wondering what celebration would only set off one firework, and an ironically impaired one at that.
Beneath the reaching canopy, in the moonlit clearing, the swaying and rustling of
the ferns gradually cut off, and their heads drooped to the ground again. There was no longer a glint of any foreign object, as it was already in the sky.