Dreamscape

With a swish and a flick of her hand, she let the last few droplets of paint fall on the once-naked wall. It was painted with hazy-pastel-warm-cool-interesting-pretty colors, all of which had been described by her as “lovely.”

And, everyone supposed they were. It wasn’t even a sunset that was on her bedroom wall, but a Dreamscape with a capital D. It was a mix of colors and shapes and swirls all put from her three-dimensional mind into this emulsion of wonder on a one-dimensional surface. It intrigued her, despite the fact that she was indeed the maker of this creation.

The lavenders swirled into the indigos which delved into the pinks which meandered through the sunny yellows which morphed into the silvers which skipped sweetly into the blues of all colors. Everything could be traced back to blue. Not a sad blue or neon blue, but a calm blue–the kind of blue that everyone wishes they could paint their bathroom wall but never end up doing. And all those shades of blue together were her kind of blue.

Despite the hazard that would come of this, she carefully imprinted her hand into this one shade of near robin’s egg blue. It was the color she identified with at the moment–full of wonder, awe, and amazement at this beauty before her.

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