My Latest Daydream

Lately, I’ve had this odd sensation in buildings. It’s not true claustrophobia where the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe and I have to escape immediately. It’s been more like a vague dissatisfaction I cannot name operating just below the surface of my soul, singing a siren song in a language I can’t process.

I wander with my arms crossed, wrapping myself in a cloak of invisibility to the rest of the world, feeling as though I’m a police officer walking a beat looking for some nameless, faceless criminal engaged in some petty crime.

Inexplicably, I find myself at the nearest window. If there are no mountains, I move on, still troubled and unsettled.

With the mountains, something happens. The world around me melts. The mountains are suddenly at my back. My hands are wrapped around the dark mane of a horse. I don’t actually see the horse, but I can feel it galloping across an endless expanse of grassland.

Nothing is in front of me. The wind whips my hair. Whatever I’ve worn to the office become stiff leather pants and my shirt is some soft, supple material that flows with the rhythm of the breeze and steed, sensually caressing the hairs on my arms standing bolt upright due to the intense electricity of the moment.

I am alone. I am free. I have power. I have joy.

I exhale, returning to the hum of fluorescent lamps and the insect chatters of the others in the office. I return to my seat, melancholic at the oppressive loss of something I’ve never really had.

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