When I walked into this dream for the first time, it didn’t seem like a dream. Everything seemed the way it was supposed to be. Nothing was out of place. It all fell in together. Except for her. She made it dreamlike.
The way the light fell, you could tell it was manipulated. Soft. Glowing. Highlighting. Shining, but not bright enough to make you look away. It drew me in. Softly but surely.
Now, there you go, wondering. How can light be manipulated? That is because dreams are a manipulation of the reality that we might want to see. Not wish for. But maybe, just want to see. To see what it might look like. It is a safe place after all. What’s the worst that can happen? You can wake up.
But I was not waking up this time. This was real. Or so it seemed.
To draw the circle complete – the shutter opened and closed. Click.
The dream of the viewfinder was over. It had all come to be. The frame had been frozen, the way I wanted it to be. The photograph was a dream. And it had been created. Manipulated.