Last night I dreamt of you.
We were standing inside an amusement park, a slightly dilapidated one. There were still people milling around the place and screams of excitement from roller coaster riders but I could tell that the place was old and that it reeked of quiet desperation. To attract more customers, to bring back the energy and the blossoming hope of yesterday. This sense of despair ironically made me more inclined to leave the area. But then, what were we doing there in the first place?
"Did you bring me here?" I asked.
"Yes," you answered. "I thought you look pretty with that wind-swept, just-got-off-a-ride look. And those balloons that you're holding makes you look so innocent. I love looking at you."
