Dream or Reality?

A single balloon floated in the rain. Its rainbow colours danced across the murky sky, turning everyone who looked at it happy again. This was the last balloon: the last balloon that could save everyone. 

It all started when a thunderstorm came about: lightning flashed; torrential rain poured down from the heavens. This was no normal thunderstorm because it seemed to last forever. Houses were flooded, boats were launched across the road-turned-into-a-river; thousands of trees were demolished. Babies cried, adults mourning over lost loved ones that didn’t make it to safety. Everyone was terrified. 

That was, until the balloons came. They brought heavenly light down to light the world and to cast away grief. Nobody knows how but one by one they came, thousands of them,  each going to every country and city across the world. For a brief moment the sun came out. For a moment everyone had happiness again, until everything got destroyed… Again. 

The gods fought: thunder lashed out, deflating the balloons. One thing was clear: these evil thunder gods did not like hope, did not like happiness. So one by one, the balloons got destroyed almost as quickly as they came: the light had been snuffed out. 

The world watched as the last balloon hovered over Sussex: it was trembling as if it had a life of its own. Lightning glared at it, its bomb-like-eyes shining with hatred. Time slowed as the menace threw itself at the balloon, missing it by a millimetre. 

Then, something that everyone thought could never happen, would never happen, happened: all of a sudden the Sun shone down onto our beautiful planet, defending us from the wicked storm. It seems as if we had earned the right to have the sun on its side, after what we had done to its planet, its child. The river filled streets got swept away by the sun: everyone could see the water vapour travelling up and up, out of this planet and into another world. 

Everyone was joyful and filled with excitement that the menacing forces had gone away. 

Then, I heard a loud voice calling my name. My eyes fluttered open to see my mother’s face looking at me. I stared at her, puzzled, still in between Dream World and Reality. Then, I looked at my father, who had looked like he was just crying, and questioned him why it was. He could barely make a sound, let alone speak so I didn’t force him to tell me. I turned my head to look at my mother, my eyes pleading for the truth. Her eyes were on the brink of tears, her emerald green eyes sparkling. 

She whispered in a soft, grief filled voice: “Your sister… She… She got stuck: stuck beneath the ice on the river across the road. We called the ambulance to get her out but by the time we got her out… She was already gone… I’m sorry…”

I was stumped and deja-vu crept into my mind like a parasite. This was how my dream had started, before the storm, how everything had really started. I had only one question to ask: is this a dream or reality?

Written in Year 8 -2022

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