On the wings of a dream

I have never forgotten the dream that I have ever done in my childhood. The blue sky is blue, the white clouds are floating, the lawns of the onion cages, the strange flowers of different colors shake their heads in the breeze, the bees in twos and threes are also creaking, under the bright sunshine, a group of children who are playing happily, The bursts of laughter, like the lark, screamed with joy and joy, like a song and a pleasant song that came out of the broadcast, like the whistling whistle of the stream. Only when my legs are not good, I sit alone and sneak away from them, secretly admiring. In an instant, there is a very cute boy who smiles and walks over and gently sits next to me. Accompanied silently...

After waking up, I found out that this was just a dream, a dream, a dream with a fairy tale, a dream that made people feel excited. And I am still a woman with healthy limbs, wearing a white cotton shirt and two ponytails. That dream, and the boy, often unknowingly appeared in his mind, and there was always a warmth in his heart.

I like dreaming, dreams, seem to give me a pair of invisible wings, a pair of eyes that are good at discovering the truth, goodness and beauty, a simple and happy heart, let me swim in a different world, which makes me have an accident. Surprise and the sense of pleasure that makes you feel like you are in the midst of a lost soul, you will also be inexplicably happy.

I am doing all kinds of dreams. There are wings flying freely under the blue sky, there are things running on the gravel road, there are squatting on the ground to see the ants moving, there are climbing the branches of the ostrich nest, there is a sneer on someone’s shoulder, there is hiding Secretly crying in the corner. Dreams, sometimes a few nights, some are clear and transparent, some are confusing, but it seems that every boy will have the shadow of the boy slamming around. Every time I woke up, I couldn't help but confuse my dream scene: Who is he? How old is it in my dreams, I feel a little unbelievable.

In the dream, the lovely, living boy, always turns around me. A kind smile, a kind of intimate words, or a light hand raised, an unintentional cast, like a snake in July crouched in my heart, always quietly swaying from time to time, my heart This string, playing the little songs of childhood, over and over again, the dream of this, will always last a long time.

Is it a dreamer, a dreamer?

I often like to hide in various dreams, edit a variety of pictures, sometimes weird, sometimes bizarre, sometimes lingering, sometimes sad, it seems to be the illusory color of all the circumstances, or joy or sadness, diverse The picture is almost entirely the voice of one's heart.

From the time of the girlhood, the simple and clear words are used to outline the appearances of various dreams, or glamorous or bleak. The spiritual words are like a beautiful elf, like a spring breeze and a beautiful rainbow. I have rushed into the tip of my flying pen, such as endowed with endless spiritual power, smeared into a fine Tang Dynasty, a Song of the Song, a silently dragging the corridor of time.

One day I took a nap in the afternoon and dreamed that I was in a large blue rose bush. Lightly holding a man's arm that looks like the boy. In the warm sunshine, look at the kiss of a butterfly next to no one, listen to a pair of wasps secretly whispering, reward two or three small insects unscrupulously climbing, sniffing a burst of fragrance quietly refreshing, we will The heart looks at each other and smiles. Both of them have strong tenderness and deep dependence in their eyebrows. But dreams are not reality after all. In reality, dreams become an infinite yearning, a powerful driving force, a pursuit of no regrets. Only when you pay, if you work hard, it will slowly become true and become our life. An indispensable part of the dream is the ideal of dreams. It is the paradise of our dreams. It is the kingdom in the world of fairy tales. It is the most mysterious Yaochi in the legend. It is the goal we pursued for the rest of our lives. Like a phoenix of a fire, such as a sharp blade, like the air after the rain, it will not be baptized, you will never find how magical it is.

I like to break into a butterfly, walk through the flowers and plants in the strangers, steal the whispers of spring blossoms, the secrets of worms mating, the singing of birds, and the low-pitched whispers of the wind, I always feel this feeling. It is the most beautiful enjoyment. In addition, the wheat waves in the distance and the clear green water in the distance are all about the long-distance homesickness. Once approached, it seems to return to the mother's warm embrace, and there is an indescribable intimacy. The people in the village let me admire the grandmother of the neighboring family. The flowers in her hand are lively, vivid and lifelike. You are too old, too simple, and too familiar. The original flavor, this is not the soul that the wanderers always mourn?

To be honest, the quality of every dream I have made is very general and very common. I don’t want to be rich and rich, and I don’t understand people’s sin. But I like to do it, and absorb all the positive energy from it as much as possible. Once I enter a dream, like a sly bird, it’s like a squid, like a fish that swims around, like a dragon and a phoenix. Free, let my world be very beautiful. The boy, like a gripping song, a clear stream of water, a scented petals, covered with the corners of my thoughts.

The man, the sweet face, the gentle warmth, made me seem to find anotherself. Also, the faint nostalgia made me feel a sense of returning to nature, as if I had returned to my childhood again. All dreams give me a supreme pleasure, a kind of ignorant enjoyment, a feeling of heartfelt emotion, and a magical magic everywhere. Dreams are a kind of lubricant for my happy life. For example, a pleasant spring breeze, just a beautiful flower, is an elf at midnight, the wing of my heart.

People are relentlessly pursuing their dreams. Because of their dreams, they are as full of happiness as possible, and they are dragging their infinite brilliance with dreams.

One leaf, one leaf fresh; one line of poetry, a line of poetic elegance; a pot of wine, a pot of wine; a dream, a dream of embarrassment. I often wonder if I don't dream, or have no dreams to do; I think, I am afraid that life will be much more boring than it is now. Just because I like the feeling of being a dreamer too much, I want to be as colorful as a dream. And many facts tell me that as long as there is a dream, no matter how far you want to fly, it is possible.