Last Night I Dreamt of Flowers
Tokyo swallows me in its heat. The asphalt quivers, glass panes tremble. Neon lights flicker in my eyes like broken memories. I drift with the crowd, let myself be pushed, my body feverish, my head full of everything and nothing. Then I’m inside - inside the world of teamLab. Borderless - no walls, no doors, no boundaries. Only light. Waves of color ripple across the floor, over my shoes, over my hands. The warmth of the room caresses my skin, as if the light itself had fingers. I walk on. A dark hall. Then - explosions of flowers, meadows rising from shadows, pollen drifting in slow motion. I raise my hand, and the room shifts with me. My body is a line in a poem writing itself.
I run through the rain of the artificial night, lights bursting on my tongue like candy. My reflection fractures into glassy surfaces - thousands of versions of me staring back. Girls made of light, boys made of shadows, ghosts in a city that never stands still. Someone laughs, a sound like an echo from a dream. I lie down on the floor, looking up into the nothingness, flooded with color. No beginning, no end - only this moment. My heart beats to the rhythm of the light. I close my eyes. Tokyo whispers. And I’m weightless. I dive deeper into the colors, as if I could drown in an ocean of light. But it doesn’t feel like drowning. It feels like being lost, like time has stopped chasing me.
The walls breathe, the floor pulses, and I forget myself in the movement, in the silence, in this odd dance of pixels and dust. Everything is near and distant at once, like the sound of a song I’ve never heard but somehow remember. Every step reshapes the world around me, painting a new image onto the canvas of space. A flower blooms beneath my feet, and in its petals, I see myself - fractured yet whole, shifting through all my contradictions. I turn in circles. Colors weave and unwind, vanish only to return. The light makes my thoughts flicker, my heart jumps to the beat of a melody only space knows. It’s a dream that never ends. Or maybe it’s the moment I finally wake up.