Helium-Filled Balloons

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."

I looked at my hands and sure enough, there were a mess of strings between my fingers connected to about half a dozen pink balloons floating above my head. They were pretty to look at. I felt like a teenage debutante. 

"You bought these for me?" I asked once again, looking up at the inflated plastics and thinking they looked like chewing-gum-inspired thought bubbles with multiple cysts positioned above my head like that.

"Yes," you answered, tilting your head with that adorable amused smile on your face. "You said you wanted someone to someday give you the ability to fly."

"Well, it will take more than 6 helium-filled balloons to get my feet off the ground," I joked, teasingly poking your midsection. You laughed and stepped away from the assault.

"We'll work on that, one balloon at a time," you said.

"Really? You promise?" I smiled my most charming smile and fought the urge to sway like a little kid in a dress.

"Yes. Oh wait, let me check..." You hastily checked your pockets for something but your hands came out empty.

"What's wrong?" I asked, worried.

"I just realized I don't have any money left," you replied, looking solemn. "I think I gave it all away."

"You don't have to buy me more balloons now," I tried to console you but you stepped farther back.

"No, you don't understand," you whispered, running one hand across your head. "I spent it all before, now I have nothing to give. I can't give you any more balloons except for the ones you have now."

I looked at you, more confused than ever. "But how did you manage to get me these?" I asked, giving the pink balloons a slight tug so they carelessly bounced at each other, oblivious to anything.

"I.. I took it from an abandoned stall. It was useless there and I thought you would like it." Head down, you  apologized to the floor.

"So, none of these are real," I muttered, disappointed beyond belief. "You made me believe you're going to help me fly."

"No, no, no, you don't understand," you reasoned with pleading eyes. "I do want to help you fly. I want to fly myself and I thought with enough balloons we can fly together. I just didn't realize..." You grasped for words. "It's a start..."

"Was a start. A start you could not finish," I interrupted the well-meant compliments that was undoubtedly about to come.  "I wish you never gave me this. Take it back, please."

"I don't want it back!" you protested, fighting against my advances in getting you to take back the annoyingly indifferent flying pink spheres above our heads. I tried to hand you back the set of balloons and all the happiness from my heart that came from them but you would not accept.

"I don't want it," you said, giving me a cautious look as if I was a cornered wild animal, waiting for me to make my move. "What I gave you, it's yours to do whatever you want with it."

I looked at my right hand and followed my gaze from the white strings to the shining pink orbs connected to them. They looked so beautiful and hopeful when bathed in sunlight like that. But to me, they just reminded me of a time never to be revisited again and all the unfulfilled promises that went with it.

"Okay," I replied, then let go of all 6 of them at once. 

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