Lately, I've been finding myself lost in the land of dreams.

In my dreams, my happy place comes to life. The skies were always lilac. The seas were always calm, and the air was fresh, and the sun was bright and golden. In my dreams, the trees were vibrant greens, and the mountains wore pure white snow caps.

In my dreams, war is a myth. Peace is rampant, the flowers are lively, and the ground has never felt the drop of blood. A child's laugh would occasionally fill the air, and parents would laugh along too. Music was a common thing.

In my dreams, there are no imperfections. There are no things to remind me of the real world. The skies are lilac, the sun is gold, and the world is better.

But sometimes, the bombs get too loud, and the tanks get too close, and the gas creeps faster, chasing me through the broken streets of my once beautiful home.

Sometimes, a scream pierces my ears and my illusions shatter. I can hear parents screaming for their hollow children. I would look through my ragged curtains and gasp at the ****** ground. I would look up and find no golden sun and lilac skies. Instead I find dust and missiles.

I don't remember how my dreams came to reality. In fact, I don't remember much about my past life anymore. All I remember is one day, I woke up and saw the sun shining for once. The streets were quiet, and my mother was humming the old radio tune we used to play all the time. I could hear my brothers laughing, and my sister softly singing to herself.

Though I seem to recall how a woman screamed and suddenly everything was on fire. Explosions burning, hot and bright.

I can't be sure though. It all seems fuzzy, like a distant memory. But I'm in my happy place now.

There's no place I'd rather be.