Returning Memories

      Opening my eyes, I could only see white. I was lying on my back as I stared upwards, seeing nothing. I tried to stand up slowly, but lost my balance and fell backwards, not seeing the ground beneath me. I could feel it, though, as I ran my hand across it, bringing in the cool touch of a smooth floor. I attempted once again to stand up, pushing up more carefully, and gazed at the nothingness in the distance. Nothing but white. I tried to yell, but couldn’t get a sound out, as though the stale air muffled my shouts. Sitting back down, all I could do was accept defeat...and wait.
         It wasn’t long before something appeared in the corner of my eye. It was faint at first, but as I turned my head, I saw that it was a small, white light. I stood up a third time as the light began to pulsate. It didn't make a sound, but I could feel as though it were calling to me. I began walking towards it and felt no air flowing past me... just a chill from the coolness of the floor on my bare feet. The increasing size of the light was the only thing that told me that I was even moving at all. I kept moving forward, expecting the brilliance of this mystery to blind me, yet I kept my eyes on it. The light had  grown to the size of a door when I finally stopped walking. I couldn't help but stare at this thing. So pale with white light, and yet so beautiful. I reached out and saw my hand disappear, and then reappear when I pulled it back. I stood still for a while, pondering to myself as to whether or not to walk through this doorway. I couldn't help but remember being told to walk into the light when I die, but was I dead? It was a thought that stayed with me, but something deep inside was also telling me that I wasn't...not yet. Perhaps it was this doorway. This thing that seemed to call to me without making a sound. I finally came to my decision. Closing my eyes, I walked forward into this pulsating doorway and braced myself. I saw through my eyelids the brilliance of the light disappearing. I felt a bit of excitement for what might be on the other side, and yet, sadness at the same time for leaving such a beautiful thing behind.
         When I opened my eyes, I was standing on top of a hill, looking down upon a field. Golden ripples flowed over rolling waves hills for as far as the eye could see. I felt a warm breeze breathing upon my face, flowing through my hair as every bone in my body lost any care in the world. The place was very familiar to me, but I couldn’t remember anything about it. The sun was setting in the horizon, so I decided to explore the field before it became dark. After a couple of miles, there was the sound of a child’s laughter. I couldn’t see where it was coming from, so I ran up to a hill to the left of me to see where it might have came from. Reaching the top, I came to an abrupt stop with my jaw almost feeling as if it could touch the ground beneath me. There was a small, familiar house in the distance past a smaller hill, on the other side of a pond. It look exactly like the house I grew up in. In the foreground, there was the child. He was a little boy, I had guessed to myself that he was about 8 years old. He was running around the field chasing butterflies as though this warm breeze has also given him not a care in the world. I was astonished by this boy after getting a better look. This child was me. I sat down on the edge of the hill, watching this boy play. That house in the distance was, in fact, the same house I grew up in. As the sun settled even further past the the mountains in the distance,I went down to the boy, hoping I wouldn’t scare him.
      He didn’t mind my presence at all; just smiled and went on playing. Other children came over the hill behind me to join the boy. They were all his friends…all my friends. They asked if I wanted to play too, and I wanted to answer. I wanted to answer so badly, but the same force that silenced me before was still not letting me make a sound, even now. Instead, I resumed watching. It was a wonder if these children even knew that the boy was me, or if the boy himself knew for that matter. Before too long, I heard a woman calling for the boy, calling my name. It was suppertime. The boy looked at me, smiled, and waved, before running towards the house. The other children went their seperate ways past the house, no doubt back to their own homes. I started to walk towards the house, but I was stopped by another flash of light in front of me, and the scream of a car horn.
         Opening my eyes, I looked around, noticing that I sat on a rooftop. It was dark, and the air no longer breathed any warmth on me, only coldness. I came back fully into my senses. This was the rooftop of my apartment building. The same one that I had fallen asleep on. How I wished I were back asleep, dreaming of my childhood. I have been dreaming this same dream almost every night. Life was so much better as a child. I stood up and stared down at the city below. Cars rushed by, police sirens wailed in the distance, and people were yelling in the streets. A gunshot rang out as it claimed yet another victim, causing these people to go from yelling to screaming. Realizing how my life had become, a tear ran down my face, as though it were the misery trying to escape my eyes.