He sold dreams. Each one a shifting image made in vapor… purely simulated. Bound by the faux threads, it was a yarn of delusion. From a distance, the paradigm glinted like dew drops reflecting the first ray of sun. One never went close for the flash was blinding…

Blinding it was, for she didn’t see what she was trading for. Hers were broken, so she needed threads of a new dream to weave her life within. She bought some of his dreams and hung on the loom in place of warp threads and laid herself in the shuttle to weft within. Little did she know it was a nightmare; soon to become. She got so busy pedaling the loom, she didn’t realize the barren patch she landed in. It was an old cemetery crowded with lifeless elements of several stories told. There she was… dreaming the nightmares of others too! It was her doing when all she wanted was a few threads of a new dream.

It was all but fabricated… a flowing satin of falsehood; smooth and fizzling. The uncombed fibre on the inside of the drape pricked into her skin piercing deep to fasten the hold. The dreams she bought once had made home in her growing on her feeding on her sleep. She dreamed no more.

Sometime went by before she looked beyond that dazzling flash. She realized she was looking at another set of broken dreams; shards of which was glistening with tears of betrayal.

To break the spell, she had to pull the thread and go on till she separated her life off that dream warp. Hoping, someday she does.