2024-07-14 - Two wings, too high

The first time Gwillanth dreamed of flying, Sigil woke from the dream when Mother did, and tried to go back to sleep, to find the dream again. It had been peaceful, and happy, and filled with Rightness. They did not realize at first that it wasn’t their dream. That they’d never seen that deep blue sky, nor the earth below. That the wings they saw - golden and strong - weren’t theirs.

They tried to find the dream time and again, and when they caught Mother’s dream again, they understood that it was not their dream, and wanted to fly too. Sometimes there were other dragons in the dream, and Sigil wanted to be there, too. To be there with mother, who was gold, not blue or brown. They felt like they would chase after her forever, trying to get her attention, even if they were green like grass.

When the dream came again, and again, Sigil held it in their heart. This is what they were meant to do. This is what wings were for. This was what dragons did. They envied Mother the ability to stretch her limbs and fly away while they were confined in their shell.

Sigil occasionally tried to stretch out their limbs, but there was no space within the cradle to unfurl their sails. It was too small, and they could not soar if they wanted to.

The dream came again, and the dream-gold looked down upon the land and the people and they were so small and so far away. Could they ever reach them? The sun was hot on dream-wings, and Sigil, uncomfortable, thrashed themself awake. What did it all mean?