The dream

She whispered to her beloved pet dog that one day she wanted to be a dog or a cloud. Animals, she mused, had a freedom that humans could only dream of—no burdens, no expectations, just simple, honest existence. It was the way they moved through the world, untroubled by the complexities that tangled her mind. Dogs, with their carefree joy and loyalty, seemed to hold the secret to true contentment. Clouds, ever-changing and drifting in the sky, seemed to embody the kind of peacefulness—weightless, free from the pull of time or responsibility.

She understood, now, how animals had primarily inspired the arts: they were symbols of purity, of simplicity, of raw, untainted beauty. To be a dog or a cloud, she thought, would be to exist in that state of endless inspiration, instant happiness and bottomless pit of joy.