Just a Dream
Their living room was filled with furniture and antiques. The green couch has sat in that same spot for decades. The brick fireplace has stood since the house was built. The current frame nailed in the brick contained the smiling faces of the current generation of parents and children. In the back was a purple stallion with glasses and a bushy mustache standing beside a pink mare with a white mane. In front of them were three adolescent colts; one of them shared his father’s coat, another’s was red, and the third’s white. Finally, one of the walls had a window and a wooden door.
The white colt creaked the door open and trudged through the room. Compared to his appearance in the photo, his face was flushed and his mane unkempt. Behind him was the purple stallion— whose face was drained of expression— and the pink mare— whose eyes were red and weary. The stallion noticed the colt’s legs trembling with every step.
“Light,” he said. Every part of the colt’s body froze upon hearing his name, including his face. But even with the silence encouraging him to think, the stallion lost what he had intended to say. He tried to develop at least something. “....t-try to read those pamphlets…”
Light remembered them but he was unwilling to even look at them. Mustering what he could from his legs, he stammered on toward his bedroom.
“When do you want to tell your brothers?” a feminine voice uttered. Ignoring it, he continued walking. He struggled to keep his balance as he moved through the narrow corridor. Finally, he pushed through his door to his room.
Light saw his bed before him with his desk perpendicular to the mattress. He walked past the work table and his eyes caught the various papers scattered on its wooden surface. Stopping, he turned and examined some of the sheets in closer detail. There were incomplete forms for scholarships, acceptance letters, and offers from other schools. The mere sight of these articles sent a pang ringing throughout his head.
“Why me?” he asked himself, knowing that there was no one to answer him.
The thought cued him to kneel down and open one of the drawers on the desk’s legs. Digging through the various items in it, he found and pulled out one of the letters.
Dear Light,
Congratulations! I am proud to admit you into the School of Government and History at the Royal Sisters College for the upcoming fall semester. You should be proud of this fine achievement as you are on your way to a successful life
He squeezed his eyes and dropped the paper back into the drawer. He slammed it shut and leapt backwards onto the bed. He stared at the white ceiling with an anger waiting to burst.
“It just had to be me. And it just had to be this early.”
Unconsciously, Light imagined a smaller colt that looked just like him. He trotted through the streets of Canterlot, fascinated by the monuments and historical buildings. Everything from the Royal Castle to the Hearth’s Warming Museum was filled with grandeur and significance. Even though he was small, he felt a part of something spectacular, something he wished to devote his life to.
The following year, that same colt became student body president of his elementary school. Almost immediately after hearing the results, he felt a magical sensation from his flank. Turning around, he saw a scroll imprinted on it, causing him to rejoice.
“So much for dreaming.”
As he grew older and older, he began reading the newspaper on a daily basis. No royal policy or diplomatic event printed in the Ponyville Star went unnoticed by him. Light found that Celestia was an extraordinary leader that he wished to serve. Even if he couldn’t become a king or prince, the idea of being a governor or prime minister was appealing.
“How innocent I was back then.”
At that moment, he took off his saddlebags and took out a brochure.
“Maybe I’ll learn a little about this…”
The most glaring feature of the cover was the title “PANCREATIC CANCER” spread across the top. The large, red letters made him slightly nauseous but he was determined to press on.
He turned the cover so he could read the information on the other side but the words were difficult to read. Despite his proficient literacy, Light glazed through the paragraphs, failing to absorb any information.
He tossed on the ground.
“Or maybe later…”
Light turned on his side and forced his eyes shut.
“Maybe this is all just a dream. I’ll wake up and go back to school, just like I always do.”
He saw darkness— due to his closed eyes— and laid there but sleep wouldn’t come. Although he desperately attempted to clear his mind, it was eternally clouded with thoughts.
“I’ll never have a career.
My work will have been for nothing.
They’ll be devastated.
What if I don’t make it to graduation?”
As the minutes dragged on, more and more of these concerns bombarded him like a heavy downpour.
He forced his eyes open. He tried to remember the location and within a minute he had it in his mind. He got up and went to his desk. He found a different drawer and opened it.
“I can’t believe I never use this one.”
After some searching, he produced a black notebook. Light closed the drawer and stood up. He snatched a pen from the many in the pencil holder and sat down in the chair. He opened the book to the blank first page. Using his mouth, he pressed the pen against the paper and wrote.
My name is Light Sky. I am seventeen years old but I am not like any other. I have
He paused for a moment.
pancreatic cancer. The doctors intend on giving me treatment but I know that I may not live. I wanted to go to college and become a politician. Now I’m not sure if that will come true. In the coming weeks, I hope to write in this journal more often. It is somewhat therapeutic getting this down on paper.
Placing the pen down, he concentrated on the page before him.
“Now what?”
He contemplated this question for a minute. He sighed and closed the book. Keeping it on the desk, he rested himself in bed. He stared at the journal that laid on the surface of his desk.
“I guess….for some….”
Recollections of Canterlot and colthood raced through his mind once again. The amount of warm, nostalgic images overwhelmed him. The sight of the notebook became blurry as tears filled his eyes.
“dreams are just….dreams.”