Dream sword

A few years ago I was entranced by a man who called himself “dream sword” (or Yumetachi 夢太刀) online. He always had the most thought provoking statements and suddenly I was drawn into his charm, mostly because I lived an silent and sedentary life accompanied by pencils, pens and papers, hoping to draw myself out of reality and into my own fantasy.


That said I will attempt a post like his every now and then – this is the first one:

The Angel

Sometimes, whenever she would hold her breath underwater, she saw the stars, the moon, the universe morphing into the something that was the reality she lived in.

She was beautiful, with imperfect skin, a broken smile, splayed freckles and oddly thin.

Hardly an angel with heavy steps on the ground and her hands knew nothing of rhythm and movement.

Yet somebody dreamed as her as she slept, her soft breaths caressing the air and he knew that biologically, her breath would be inhaled in every one of his, as everybody else’s in the world is as well.


The objects curved and for once fantasy was reality until she swam back up to breathe in the world again, and suddenly, with new insight she became the angel she longed to be.

“Do not hate, or you suffocate the air about you.

When she met him in her angelic appearance, it was on his left, veiled, holding out a ring or two, smiling that crooked smile and he was happy he breathed every breath filled with love.

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