Craving in anticlimatic

I am very much wanting something inspiring in a very particular way. I would like something whimsical and magical. Something out of a dream. Or a fresh town in the evening. I love my life, but I feel like I would love any life, and wouldn’t it be fascinating to try another?

I want to float across the tree tops on an autumn dusk in 1983, peering down at old maple trees and homes scattered about with tiny lights on in tiny windows as tiny headlights creep along tiny roads. I want to float through tall green grass, blind to all else, until colliding with an old painted wooden fence to follow. I want to find myself in a room full of strangers- someone’s family- in a barn wedding that’s winding down. People know me there, have always known me.

I wish it were friday and midnight and hot. I could use an evening stroll to get some of these thoughts out.