Real World vs. Fake World

It was night and I was wearing my favorite jeans and dirty white vans. Really dry brown powdery dirt was being kicked up into small clouds around my ankles as I walk across the even ground, which was weird to me only because I knew it had just snowed. So I look up and I’ve wandered into the dead center of a colosseum type arena, which I knew was empty, though the floodlights were blinding at the point of the stands. My heart sank and burned at the same time, as this gate swung open to a huge brown curly haired hornless bull. I felt thrill and excitement as my mind’s eye flashed to a sentence I’d read; I knew bulls are attracted not to the red of the cape specifically, yet to the waving of it in reference to the stillness of the body. I chose to remain in the scene for I felt powerfully enlightened in the face of adventurous serendipitous opportunity. I slid off my black T-shirt and held it out as best I knew. There I was, motionless as the bull charged beneath my arms, and so close to my spinning body. A few more passes and I understood the simple yet beautiful beast, and in that light I was getting consciously better with each pass. I remembered this dream in a flash while brushing my teeth in the mirror that morning. The flash was of a view from high above my right shoulder, angled down at my elegantly bowed body over this charging bull, whose neck look hyperextended in it’s chase at the black shirt I’d made animate and illusive. I smiled and laughed aloud haha; it was a beautiful moment in the real world thinking about a fake world, which had taught me real stuff, sorta.