In the valley of the mind, a dream takes flight. It rides the wind, dipping and twisting on the path of a starling, and slows naught for the doubt that nips at its glowing heels. The moment it leaves the ground, the valley is its own. Fog swirls in playful currents, twisting under delicate paper wings as the dream smiles, delighted, and dares to break through the clouds into the sky above. As the chill of the mist washes over it, it blinks open clear eyes. You could look right into them and see nothing but stars; pinpricks, twinkling bright and sweet with promise, yet unfathomable distances away.
All of a sudden, a new light breaks the horizon. Once hazy and muted, the skyline erupts in bronze and gold.
The sun rises.