My turquoise heart

I go back through all my stories as a child and I remember this one story that I was inspired to write. It was called my turquoise heart.

It starts out though as children racing across an open field. Followed by women. It was a dream of mine. Though now I don't believe in the recollections of faded memories like that.

Yet these children and women were racing across a wild field of tall grass and yellow flowers. Their faces were marred by great fear.

Then I feel the bomb against my chest. I fall as I watch my family and friends fade into the streaks of blood. Rivers.

Then I awaken.

The next night the dream flows even more, further back. The long brown hair brushes against me as the water freezes my hands. I linger in a long stare as blazes blacken the skies.

Then I blink and I am standing across a loch. Waving to my lover. Soon I notice I am sinking with thousands of others. I cry but not for me. For those who will lose me once more.

Then I awaken again. Still burning my memory with the faces of these people I go in search of whether a dream or reality.

 For certain the first one I find. Then the second one.

Scary as they are true events. Yet I know I must have seen them on the TV or read a book about them.

I did sketch their faces. I wrote down how to say their names. It was as though they were my familiars.

I still carry a memory of them. Their fear. Their courage.

Just remarkable how some things bring up old stories. The reason it was called my turquoise heart was because through the entire collection of dreams that is what I wore around my neck.

Interesting enough is that turquoise heart I had up until a few years ago. It truly was mine.

That is why I thought all was odd.

Silly now though that dreams and such could hold places in your mind, deep.