Dreamwalker's Tale

Hi. My name is… hm. I probably should not tell you, should I? Because we live in a weird world. One that seems to be cold, uncaring and tiresome on a regular basis. One where even a simple gesture, one which seems harmless enough on the surface, might get you into trouble. Because a name can be used to scam. To rob. Who knows what else for?

Now, I never considered myself special, although — as everyone probably does at some point in their life — I always hoped that, someday, somehow, I might prove the opposite to myself and the rest of the world. There is a saying about dreaming big. However, I have a hard time deciding if wanting to be special could be considered ‘dreaming big’. Is it? Is it not? For a couple of weeks, dreaming, waking, writing, I felt special.

I like to think of myself as an artist. Initially, that was the weirdest feeling, quite outlandish. I did what I did — writing, that is — because I liked it. It brought me joy. And it was a nice little bonus if others enjoyed it as well.

So let’s go with: I’m the Storyteller. Seeing as I intend to do what my name suggests, it should not come up again and therefore, should be without much relevance.

Given other circumstances, I would call this story a journal of sorts. But it is more than that, so much more. It is an interconnected series of dreams and fantasies lively and detailed and strong enough to endure past the barrier that separates the dream realm from the waking world.

It’s my story.