That's not my name.
Everyday she had the same dream, everyday for the past 3 years. It would always be the same. She'd dream that she was a small speck of plankton, floating through the enormously vast ocean. Everyday for the past 3 years she's been floating through this ocean. Different fishes, same scenario. She had gotten used to these dreams, and they became a part of her reality, by day she floated through the city, doing the same routine things, hopping the subway, anwsering calls, hailing a cab in the tidalwave of the city that never sleeps. When she floats back in to her ocean at night, she'll dream. all over again. Her ocean fades promplty at 5:00 am. When it is sucked away by the buzzing of the alarm clock, Today will be different. But she doesn't know. She enters into the world again, and swims along with the people on the sidewalk, when it starts to rain. the people take shelter under awnings, and subways. But she keeps swimming through the streets, dodging angry cabs and busses. when she notices a little flower shop on the corner. straying away from the school of fish she walked with, she runs through a puddle. stopping suddenly to look down, she sees the little puddle, she sees herself. she sees the sky, she sees the tall buildings and she sees birds. She looks up, and with a smile on her face walks away, and into the little flower shop. Tonight, she wont dream that she's a small piece of plankon. She won't dream at all. She will get the best sleep that she will have ever gotten in three years.