Four years ago, I had a strange dream.

After I had that dream there was a weird mix-up with the moving van - supposedly we were late when my parents were certain we were on time. Still, nothing strange ever happened after that.

I went to middle school.

My grades were alright. I made new friends. Got used to the town. All in all, it was very normal.

I can't stop thinking about that dream.

Creatures I never thought of until then, women who looked exactly alike, a shadow wearing a mask, a god made from water and mud. Or was it water filled with mud? My memories of it all have faded by now. It was just a dream, after all.

Even though it was only a dream, it felt more real than this dreary existence.

The colors felt more vivid.

The people felt more real.

By comparison, my friends are gossips and I can't trust them at all. The work in class is dull, the same thing over and over. And even the food doesn't taste as good as those plain rice balls he'd given me one time.

But now I'm fourteen.

And reality demands I face it.

"So Chihiro. You've written down 'journalist' as your first ideal job. Why is that?"

"I want to see the world."

"And that's why your second job is 'pilot,' I presume."

"Yes."

"Well, wanting to see the world is admirable. Have you thought about anything closer to home, though?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I don't want to stay here any longer than necessary. I don't want to keep wondering if that dream wasn't a dream.

I want to find something that equals my vivid experience. A place with all the beauty and life I've lost since then.

"Because I want to see the world."

"Hm. Alright. Might want to try something a little more manageable, just in case." The counselor smiled and told me I could go. I left that office feeling worn-out. I didn't like having to think about jobs and choices. I didn't want to leave this town, but I didn't want to stay.

Sighing, I walked through the school hallways, intending to go to the library.

But I ended up leaving school.

Walking through town.

I'm sick and tired of this. Wasn't it just a dream? But then why do I miss it so much? It feels like I left myself behind there and am just dragging on now…

I looked down at the river.

Not my river.

My river?

Right, Kohaku River.

Didn't I almost drown in there? Why would I miss it?

Still… it's a river.

Memories of relief and fear, laughter and longing, of green eyes both hard and kind came to mind. It both hurt and eased my heart. I swung myself over the bridge railing, balancing on the little ledge.

This is not a dream.