After all of her breath had been spent.
From a gasp of urgency, the wish was made.
By a dreamer at the end of a snapped rope, flailing against a space with no arms to catch her, this dream was born.
And having been birthed in such a moment of desperation, the quality of the dream grew larger wings than it would have if born on the ground.
Its circumstances immediately taught it to fly.
And the breathlessness of its dreamer gave it a different relationship with the air surrounding it.
Rising off of the billowing waves of a needy heart instead of the whispering winds of midnight fancy.
This dream would surely come to light because it rose so high, so quickly.
Determined to catch what was left of falling hope.
Racing to save her before she shattered.