28 Plays Later: Challenge 19 (The Dream)

Todays challenge was to take an artist and write a play in their style, I chose Salvador Dali, here’s what I came up with:


The Dream

Samantha Frost

19th February 2017



I’m standing in a lake, the water is of a beautiful sand, rising and falling as the tide. It is the most majestic, outlandish shade of opal, that dances and refracts the light. It makes the haunting and terrifying faces of screaming people. Their voices are silent but deafening. They scream and their mute echoes, into thousands of butterflies surrounding me, they became the sky, where before there was only void. As I touch the sand, I am pulled below the surface of the lake and thrashed around, I feel only joy and hear no more silent screams. All fades away and I am a giant, in a casino, looking down on ants as if they were small people. They fear my genius and I am angry at them for their small size. I feel rage and as it bubbles in my soul, the heat of my hatred begins to melt my stature, I slowly drip onto the floor, but I do not splash or make any puddles, I am instantly absorbed into the fabric of the floor and the ants of whom I intended to crush. As a thousand tiny fractals, I am elevated by the very people I tried end, they carry me, the thousands of me to their queen. She is of a chrysalis beauty and moulds me together as would a potter an exquisite dish. I am glazed with affection. It is then within my understanding that hatred is the poison of all things and people. She moulds me in her image and I have wings which become unleashed upon the wind. As I soar and glide high above all that is below, I am transformed from my earth-bound form, free to see the subtle ochre and amber of a burning sunset painted by queen. All is connected and yet there is a fear within my breast of a rising storm. As I fear, my wings burn off and I fall for hours to my certain end, it is not to be though, I am caught aloft a leaf that is floating in a breeze of hope set forth by all hope and dreams of the children of the world, in an instant I understand that progeny have boundless hope for the future but none for where it might take them. They survey all in wonderment and lust of knowledge. Passion is born within me with a child’s laughter I recognise as my own. I am re-awakened from within and can see the truth in all things. The joy of a staircase that leads nowhere, to me is now of a grand adventure but distraction is everywhere and encouraged by my youthful heart. It beats as I have no memory of and all is clear. The child is the most precious of us and we should preserve the immature nature within us to hope to remain as humans. I am not knowing of hate unless it is imparted on me by a withered soul who has let their own inner innocence die, I am unknowing of ignorance or prejudice. All is wonderment, beautiful and equal and as I settle to understand the true value of life, I awoke to a feeling of deep melancholy, for things are never as beautiful as they are in our dreams.

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