What Do Summer Dreams Even Mean

Loose, wet tears began to seep from the corners of my squinting eyes, burning the wind-chapped skin on my cheeks. The sound of my breath synchronized with my beating heart. Exhale. Beat. Inhale. Beat. I filled lungs with the amount of oxygen it would take to send a hot air balloon into the cumulus clouds. I knew the adrenaline thrusting its way inside me would empower my deep breaths. The flush on my face was that of an astronaut during launch--gravity taking its toll. Quickly, I glanced at my feet slapping against the terrain as if they were something mechanic, created to do nothing else but move me. The reminiscence of a movie I once watched as a child transmitted into my memory: The Ant Bully. The Bully’s feet clobbered the ant’s palace. Each stomp crashed into the intricate passages of the mound, turning the hallways into red dust. One by one, my feet mimicked this scene. My feet were leaving such an indention into the ground that I was astonished I landed feeling like a ballet dancer—so light and graceful. Each foot took marks on the earth, edging me into a stanza of hope. The stressed syllables danced in my mind, distracting me of the impending pain rushing through my tired legs: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? The placid river beside me illuminated rays of sunlight into my view, making me feel even more surreal. If I race over water, could I float? I began to remember a time when I’d had faith like that. I once wore a WWJD bracelet with brightly colored beads, not because it was cool, but because I believed it in. My former self would sneer at this bracelet, this belief, but I had to throw those worries away for now. Quizzically, I looked into the river edge at the blur I had become. Exhaustion began to hover over my eyelids. Reminding myself of my mission, I grasped hold to the vision of energy forcing my bones to bend with speed. Shortly, I could feel the tingling of my blood cells popping sparks into the exertion of my body. Inhale. Beat. Exhale. Beat. For hours, I pressed without fail. The scenery became less mystical and more like a pasty backdrop at an under budget school play. I began to see warped waves of sparkle all around me. The trees and hills dived by my view until nothing existed but the urge to arrive. Finally with two states behind me and the dehydration of an Arabian criminal tossed into the open desert, I knew I had to obey my limbs. I collapsed suddenly under a clear sky. For the first time, I felt my whole self feel weak. I didn’t attempt to shrug this. I embraced the pins and needles ravaging from my toes to the tips of my ear lobes. The sun’s warmth wrapped me into a coma that I realized would ensue me for the next few hours. I closed my eyes and took breaths that were so ghastly, it was almost impossible to believe they derived from my girlish figure. *** The rhythm of feet stomping along with electric shrills welcomed me as I opened my sleepy eyes again. Even with all the smiling, singing faces surrounding me, I remained stationary. Feet in silhouettes and flip flops alike grazed against my legs. I made it. The crowd confirmed that the music festival was in full swing. A venomous sigh escaped my lungs and halted as a voice so familiar filled every cavity of my soul. Wide eyed, I whipped my neck to the sound of the sweet siren. Under the shade of a magnolia, he sat upon a branch swinging his feet to the music. Now stunned, I couldn’t hear a thing. I couldn’t move at the bewitching sight of him. I noticed the sign dangling above my head now: “Park of Orange Trees.” I had somehow managed to stop at the exact position I hunted. A weak, but true, smile showed my gratitude to this sacred place. He couldn’t have appeared any more beautiful. His staunch, blonde hair spiked in every direction to the heavens. I smiled at the thought of him swatting me away from fixing his hair with my comb. Ah, I wanted to brush my fingertips through those locks and lull him to peace. A wave of relief washed over me, opening my ears to the festival’s sounds. I knew distance hadn’t changed him. I knew he was mine. I watched as his lips sang along with the words of the band. I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more just to be the man who walked a thousand miles to fall down at your door.