Solitary Sunset

By Olivia Burdash

I had a dream once. 
(I have them often.)
(But this one stuck out.)
I was in a place I knew well. 
But I also wasn’t.
Warped, perhaps. The same, but different. 
Myself in the dream knew it to be no different. I still knew it as I knew the worn pages of my favorite novel, as familiar as my own flesh. 
It felt like I floated as I walked around– effortlessly, calmly, gliding across the path. 
It was open. Picturesque buildings and stone stairs. 
It was massive. Labyrinths of worn paths and vibrant gardens. 
It was a beautiful evening. The sky was clear, decorated with puffy clouds, perfect as cotton candy. The gentle breeze pressed the most delicate of kisses to my cheeks. The air smelled faintly of blossoming flowers.
I walked alone. The sun was beginning its daily descent. 
It was going to be a beautiful sunset this evening. I just knew it.
I had the most peculiar urge to tell everyone about it, a herald reporting the spectacle. I wanted to share this moment with anyone who would appreciate it, for anyone who would simply live and breathe and feel. 
It would be stunning, after all. Everyone should know. Everyone should have a chance to experience its magic, to forget their troubles for only a moment.
I walked around, looking. It seemed I had someone in mind. Or perhaps several somebodies.
(I did not know who.)
It seemed I was lost. 
Or perhaps I simply enjoyed meandering, pointlessly wandering, a mellow spirit perpetually drifting around Asphodel. 
To no avail, or so it seemed.
The sky started to shift above me, transforming into the most vivid and breathtaking landscape of colors I had ever known. 
It was an ombre of colors. Of corals and scarlets. Of golds and tangerines. Of lavenders and violets. Of indigo and silver. 
It was a field of flowers. It was a watercolor painting. It was a celestial portal to the gods themselves.
I stopped in my tracks to admire it. There was no color so saturated in reality. Perhaps that is why it was so captivating, so otherworldly. It was a fantastical fairy tale. A brief escape from mundanity. 
Not all sunsets are like this, of course.
Some of them are lackluster, an ordinary sight we take for granted. Some of them are invisible behind blankets of thick clouds. Some of them can only offer teases of what they wanted to share with us, yet we had done nothing to deserve it.
But some of them are like this. 
Some of them make you forget everything else.
Some of them make the rest of the world fade into insignificant nothingness. 
Some of them make you realize that you, too, are only a cog in the machine of insignificance, and that thought somehow makes the twilight’s spectacle seem more daunting. 
This was one that froze time. It was endless. It was all I could see. 
All I could do was live. And breathe. And feel.
I could see the colors reflect on every surface. Twists of fire on the shiny stone stairs. Hints of bubblegum on the metallic railings. 
The world was a dome, encased by a precious canvas. 
It was a moment you felt more than you saw. I breathed in, as if I could make it a part of me.
I watched it alone, because no one cared to see it.

            When I woke up, I thought about the sunset. 
            I thought about other things, too, of course. But nothing so much as the sunset.
       The dream came back to me in puzzle pieces that I was left to assemble for myself. I remembered the corners and edges before the rest of it put itself together. 
       At least, the pieces that matter.
       What a wonderful dream, I thought to myself. 
       I thought of the geography and landscape where I traversed. I thought of the peace, the lack of urgency, as I walked.
       And I thought of the quest I undertook. A search for someone to share this moment with. 
       And I thought, really thought to myself, have I no one to share a sunset with?