180 An Unknown Dream
Selma Payne’s POV:
What I saw was a boundless field. The short wild grass was half-dead and gently dancing in the breeze. Blue light spots were dancing between the grass and leaves as if they were unrestrained but also trapped.
I sat up from the shallow stream and found myself naked. Being free from the shackles of needle and thread was such a happy thing. It made one so excited that they wanted to run and sing loudly.
The clear and shallow stream of water washed over my ankles. It wasn’t clear and revealed a faint red, like diluted blood, emitting a sweet fragrance.
I cupped the stream water and took a sip.
A refreshing feeling swept through my entire body, and an indescribable sense of comfort made me roll around in the stream.
I could sense that my condition was abnormal, but I wasn’t worried. The vigilance I was proud of had dissolved silently with the stream, leaving only my primitive nature in pursuit of freedom and happiness.
I ran along the stream, running aimlessly on this endless grassland. At this moment, I didn’t expect to meet anyone or anything because all I could think about was running.
‘Run, run forward, don’t stop.’
There was no fear, no hope.
I didn’t know how much time had passed before I stopped. It wasn’t that I couldn’t run anymore, but the voice in my heart was saying, “Alright, this is the place. Please stop and wait.”
And so I stopped.
Sitting in the seemingly endless stream, I looked at the dark clouds and waited quietly.
I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but I had to wait.
The thunder was getting increasingly intense, and its light was already dazzling to the eye. With an earth-shattering thunder, the dark clouds exploded, and large snowflakes fell with the wind. The ground was immediately covered in an ominous white.
The sky was chaotic, and the field withered. Only the stream was still flowing.
It was getting redder.
The voice in my heart said, ‘Are you thirsty? Have some water.”
So I picked up another handful of water and drank it. It was even sweeter than before, so sweet that it was bitter, so sweet that I couldn’t stop, but I also hated it from the bottom of my heart.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
I nodded.
She chuckled as if lamenting that I was ignorant.
I shyly curled up.
“Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. Just follow your desires and drink if you want.” Her voice rang in my ear as if she was hugging me intimately from behind. “Remember this feeling, remember what you like and hate, then leave what you want to stay, and throw away what you want to throw away.”
“I like the stream.” I asked blankly, “But I also hate the stream. What should I do?”
But she disappeared and didn’t answer me.
I felt very wronged and angry. I helped her to the end. What was the point of saying a few words for no reason?
The stream water became even redder, almost no different from blood. The snow kept falling into the stream, and the moment it touched the water, it melted like a marshmallow.
What did snow taste like?
With that thought, I grabbed a pile of snow and took a bite.
Suddenly, an indescribable bitterness, stench, and numbing sensation mixed, causing me to double in disgust.
“It’s awful!”
I kicked away the snow in front of me, and a lot of it fell into the stream and disappeared.
The water in the stream, which the snow had polluted, turned dark red at a visible rate and then spread to further places with the ripples.
“No!”
I understood the source of the strange smell in the stream, but I could not stop the snow from falling. All I could do was futilely scatter the snow on the bank, causing the color of the stream to darken.
In the end, it was as ugly as spilled ink.
The ice-cold temperature caused my body to stiffen gradually. Just as I was wantonly venting my anger, the cold and sharp blades of grass sliced through my skin as if it were tofu.
The drops of blood slid down quietly, dyeing the snow red, and disappeared into the stream.
At that moment, the surging halo exploded. The snow melted, the stream became clear again, and even the violent wind and snow avoided this place, leaving a peaceful world out of place with the surrounding.
The light was so warm, so familiar. From the night I was born, it had been taking care of me tirelessly, coaxing me to sleep and making me feel at ease.
It was the moonlight.
I looked at the tiny scratch on my index finger and had an epiphany.
I didn’t know when to transform my fingers into claws as sharp as blades. I cut open the skin on my arms and ran madly in the stream. As the dark red blood splattered, the color of the stream became lighter.
I still felt that it wasn’t enough, fast enough, or clear enough, so I cut open the skin of my legs and let the stream of water replace my blood.
When the water in the stream became clear again, I collapsed.
I didn’t know when the small stream became more turbulent, but the rapid current gradually covered my mouth and nose. But I didn’t feel suffocated or scared. Instead, I felt as comfortable and at ease as if I had returned to my mother’s womb.
She appeared and hugged me in the water. “Do you understand now?”
I understood, but I didn’t answer her.
I fell asleep in this sweet and warm stream.
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