Prose Essay: A Dream 1

At a class reunion, an old classmate asked me if you have a partner. I said no, and asked him and he said yes. He said he likes you. I told him that I have liked you for so many years. Don’t you know? Don’t you know that I can’t let go of you? Why do you tell your old classmate that I like you? After saying that he was about to hit him, the old classmate quickly broke up the fight, and the tone of his words was mostly blaming me. I was angry immediately. I have liked you for so long. You all know it, and he also knows it. What qualifications does he have? What you mean is that I am wrong. I asked one old classmate and two old classmates. I took them and asked them one by one. I said to him, don't hide from me. An old classmate has a good relationship with him, so he keeps speaking for him. You and her have never been together, why can't he pursue her. I suddenly became anxious.

I just wanted to rush forward to question him, but the classmate stood in front of him. I was so excited that I picked up a bowl and smashed it. He knocked the person down instantly. Then I chased out the door and found that the person was no longer there.

I called you and after talking to you, I found that my heart hurt so much that I suddenly woke up from the pain.

I remember I called you and said it’s been eight years, who am I? They all said I was wrong and shouldn’t fall in love with you, but I just love you, I love you!

Still remember someone asked me in the dream, are you her boyfriend? Have you ever been her boyfriend? I was speechless when asked, not knowing what I was doing wrong. Prose Essay: A Dream 2

Every May, I feel particularly homesick and miss the cherries my mother planted with her own hands. The cherries at home should be red. Is the unknown bird hovering over the cherry tree again? Looking down at the ripe cherries, he is always ready to sprint, just waiting for his master to be unprepared and make a sudden attack. Is my mother holding a bamboo pole tied with a red plastic bag to deal with the birds again? Every time I see such a scene of a human-bird battle, I always find it heartwarming and funny. The mother is trying hard to keep the fruits of victory for her children, and the birds are also trying hard to fight for their own belly, even if they both die together. I guess that bird is also a mother, and its children must also like cherries. Every woman in the world who becomes a mother is equally brave and admirable.

I have eaten a lot of cherries from fruit shops, but I always feel that they are not as good as those grown by my mother. The same red, the same size, but no smell of mother. Either it's a little more sour, or it's a little less sweet. Mom's cherries must be so fragrant and sweet because she watched the battle between man and bird, soaked up the sunshine hard, and stored the sweetest honey in her body.

Cherrys are also spiritual. They strive to make themselves the most beautiful and try to leave their footprints in the world this season, even if it is only a brief glance. They work hard to grow and repay mothers for their hard work and sweat, and repay the love of thousands of mothers for their children. Regardless of the changes of the years and the ups and downs of emotions, mother's smile will always be engraved in our hearts in a place that does not need to be alarmed. Just like the taste of cherries, it is always the sweetest and most beautiful in my heart. Prose Essay: A Dream 3

I met a locust tree by chance and saw the strings of snow-white locust flowers, like silver bells, hanging all over the tree. The locust trees full of snow-like trees seemed to take me back to my childhood and smell the scent of my grandmother.

I haven’t seen Sophora japonica in many years. The sweetness and fragrance of Sophora japonica have long been forgotten in some corner of my memory. Sophora nectar added with additives does not have the light fragrance and sweetness of sophora nectar. Not to mention the joyous songs and laughter of picking locust flowers in childhood.

Drinking sophora nectar, your taste buds can’t find where they belong. When I was a child, May loved the sophora flower cake made by my grandma the most. It doesn’t require too many condiments, and in fact there weren’t many condiments to choose from at that time. Oil, a little salt, accompanied by the sweet scent of locust flowers, the aroma will float for miles when you open the pot. The strong aroma of the cakes seemed to lift the entire village several meters high.

I heard from my grandma that when she was young, life was hard and there was often no food, so elm leaves, locust flowers, and ant vegetables became delicacies. Grandma’s skillful hands can turn wild vegetables into delicious dishes in her hands. Later, life got better, and my grandmother, who was used to living a hard life, still retained the habit of remembering the bitter and thinking of the sweet, and she would often cook some wild vegetables. But later on, wild vegetables became a rarity and no longer necessary for life. Grandma is kind-hearted. When she sees beggars passing by, she often gives rice, noodles and money, wishing she could keep them here for a while.

Sophora japonica does not have the fragrance of plum blossoms, nor the beauty of peonies. However, it used its slender body to add sweetness to the locust tree, giving people hope in that era of lack of food and clothing.

My grandmother is just like this locust flower, without gorgeous appearance or tall body. She used her thin body to hold up the sky for her children.

Grandma lived a life of poverty, and her mother and son were separated throughout her life. Of the four sons, one lived far away from home, one was adopted by a brother, and one passed away more than 20 years ago, with only the youngest son by his side. It has been grandma's lifelong dream to have Chen Huan at her knees.

"The tree wants to be quiet, but the wind does not stop; the child wants to be raised, but the kiss does not wait." Now we are all grown up, and the locust trees are full of flowers. Grandma has already left. There is no kind of injury, the injury lasts day and night across the sea. There is no pain that is more painful than the separation between heaven and man. Grandma no longer has to suffer the separation of mother and child, and the locust flowers will still bloom for you. Prose Essay: A Dream 4

"Under the blue sky in the distance, there are golden waves of wheat. It was the place where you and I once loved. When the breeze carries the smell of harvest, To my face..." The wind blows the wheat waves, and the wind is also fragrant.

The fragrance of wheat waves in May always reminds me of the wheat fields in my hometown. The endless golden wheat fields were blown by the gentle wind, one wave higher than the other, like flowing yellow sand, gently caressing the feet of the wind.

The clear and loud calls of cuckoos echoed everywhere in the fields. They can be found on tree branches, on wires, and everywhere. They soar between heaven and earth, like experienced commanders. The mountains and fields are filled with farmers and machines, working tirelessly in the fields. The golden scroll stretching to the sky also has an extra aura because of the cuckoo.

How I want to pull the clouds in the sky into a hijab to cover my face from the hot sun; I want to make the poplar trees on the river bank into parasols on the beach to provide farmers with some shade. But I know that the scorching sun is the guarantee of a good harvest. It allows grains to enter the warehouse as soon as possible and farmers' hearts to return to their chests as soon as possible. No matter how hot the sun is, it can't overcome the joy of the harvest. The elders in my hometown, with their backs to the loess and their faces to the sky, sweat and work in the fields. That smile that can’t be wiped off the face is the most beautiful picture of May.

May is a dream, a long dream. The cherries in the dream are red, the wheat fields are yellow, the locust flowers in the dream are undefeated, and the grandma in the dream has never left. Prose Essay: A Dream 5

The municipal hospital is where my dream begins.

There will be many partings in a person's life.

Every parting will be accompanied by labor pains. This kind of labor pains is called growth!

Just like that, I left this place,

Once again, I felt heartbroken.

Everything is like a dream,

Now, I wake up from the dream,

Those beautiful memory fragments

It’s time to let go again Where?

I couldn’t help but look back and stop to stare.

The happiness in the past made me extremely sad at this moment.

Everything in front of you seems within reach,

But it is so far away and vague.

I don’t understand,

Is it because I’m walking too fast,

Or is it because things in this world are unpredictable.

At this time, I realized how difficult it was to make a free and gorgeous turn.

A memory

It is not something that can be forgotten at all.

Perhaps it is destined by God,

Every plant and tree in the world,

It is just a human dream.

At dawn,

What we have

is only the memory in the dream

and the confusion after waking up from the dream.

Everything in the world,

I can’t keep it,

The only thing I can do,

It is to enter the next dream, < /p>

Waiting for dawn... Prose Essay: A Dream 6

I don’t know when I became a conceited person and didn’t like the life of a normal person. , instead yearning for loneliness and death. Sometimes, when I lay down quietly and thought about what would happen after death, I even cried when writing about my own funeral.

In fact, even I myself don’t know what could cause me to be like this, escaping, escaping, escaping, living like an extremely ugly monster chasing you to the end of the abyss bypass, forcing you to jump down. .

Depravity is like a swamp. Some people go around it, some people fall in and climb out, and some people disappear after entering. Smoke, a person, this is what is called of depravity? To me, this is just an attitude towards life. Everyone will have a low period, just like women have a few days of discomfort every month. What on earth has troubled us for so long.

If I could be given another chance, I hope I would not be born in this world, because humans are really incomprehensible creatures. The difference between humans is greater than the difference between humans and pigs. The so-called society is just a garbage dump piled up with money. The so-called country is just a synonym for the competition between those with rights. It is just beautification. The so-called world we live in is actually a stinky bag. Crowded with bugs. I hate the person who invented money. If there is no such thing as money, will life change? Maybe it is too naive. I would rather be a child who doesn’t understand anything. I leave my schoolbag behind after school and go to the neighbors. The little girl at home plays, fishing for frogs in the lotus pond, piling sand in the yard, and catching small fish in the rain on rainy days.

A question has troubled me for a long time, that is, what is the meaning of human life? But now I understand, people live for money. This is like playing a game. If death is the top level, the hard-working process of upgrading is the process of fighting for money. Family, love and friendship are just equipment or Weapons, sometimes if the weapon is no longer useful, you can change it to a better one until you are satisfied. As the level increased, the durability of the equipment also reached the minimum. When he lost a weapon that was by his side, Lian Lian reluctantly left him behind, and then took the last step to reach the finish line, but there was no way he could Unexpectedly, the end point is death. I always thought that when I got rich, I would be able to live a good life and be filial to my parents. Now I think about it, when I save up the money, everyone around me will be gone, and I will not be far away from death. .

No one can reach the end of the level by himself. Weapons and armor are like love and family affection. These equipments are indispensable. Men will have to bear the responsibilities of two families in the future. People who are only good at home will not be successful. To be honest, I sympathize with my parents now, but I don’t know how to change these things so that they can live a good life. In life, is it okay to just listen to your parents? I also know that it is impossible to listen to our parents all our lives. We are not children anymore and we don’t need to worry about our parents anymore.

It was just a dream. When they woke up, they realized that their life for so many years was just a dream on their wedding night. Without us children, there would be no accumulated wrinkles or gray hair. , it is precisely because of our existence that they no longer have the love they had when two people were together. Parents are the people we will miss throughout our lives.

It’s summer already. On a warm night, I looked up at the sky. Although there weren’t as many stars as when I looked at the sky as a child, I was lucky that it wouldn’t be cloudy tomorrow. I almost tripped over it. Falling to the ground reminded me of sitting by the window in the classroom on the second floor when I was a child, the breeze blowing the curtains and books, blowing away the sweat on my head. Time flies, and no one wants to look through that photo album of memories, because it only proves that he is old, but we are reluctant because there is too much joy and happiness recorded in that photo album, just like a child In the amusement park, there are no setbacks, no pressures, no worries, just happy smiling faces.

Justadream, when we wake up, we find that everything we have experienced is a dream, and the disappointed expression hangs on our faces again. We don’t want to face real life, this is true for students, and this is true for young people, The same goes for parents. Do you still remember the scene of the family sitting in the house drinking tea, eating and watching TV during the Spring Festival? Compared with now, everything seems so far away. . .

Our groggy brains don’t know what they are thinking. We really hope that our life for so many years is just a dream. When we wake up, we find ourselves lying on the table in the primary school classroom. A dream that seems to have lasted for so many years is just a lesson. Then we can use our memory to recover the bad results that should have happened. By that time, there will be no resentment or jealousy in the world, so, There is no more darkness in the human heart.

So I travel back, down that road. I fantasize about going back to the past, down that road.

Who she come back? No one knows. ? No one knows

I realize, yeah, it was only just a dream I realized, yeah, it was just a dream

I was thinkin about her, thinkin about me. Thinking about her, thinking about me

Thinkin about us, what we gonna be? Thinking about us, where is our way out?

Open my eyes, yeah; it was only just a dream. Open my eyes, yeah, it was just a dream.

So I travel back, down that road. To the past, always along that road

Who she come back? No one knows. So who does she come back to? No one knows

I realize, yeah, it was only just a dream. I realize, yeah, it was only just a dream. , the autumn breeze is refreshing, the willows are cuddling, and the clear microwave lake surface is showing the poetic sunset red. The riverbank remains the same, the willows remain the same, and the colorful flowers remain the same. The Mid-Autumn Festival that we once met, in this autumn, goes with the flow. By the peach blossoms, the faces are red, where can I find the human face? I don't know that the low chirping of cicadas may bring back the sorrow of those who have gone far away. If we no longer look forward to eternity, the word has become an illusion; if we no longer look forward to staying, why should we retain the heart that is far away. The flowers are still bright red, releasing the last of their beauty in the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Those who have left are gone and will never look back. The fate that once accompanied us has become a story, drifting with the tide. No longer believe in promises, they are just impulsive, irresponsible promises. If you no longer believe in the past love relationship, you should let go of the hand that you can't hold on to and let him create the most beautiful memories. If life is a dream, I would rather not be encountered, so that there would be no sorrow of meeting; if life is a dream, I would rather be a happy butterfly and fly far away with the dream; if life is a dream , I still choose to meet you, but not fall in love with you, so that my heart will not be hurt by your love; if life is a dream, I just want to stay in the story, leave my heart where it is, and go Enjoy the mountain of bonuses! Don’t feel the sentimentality of having thousands of thoughts to send to, and having nowhere to go after traveling thousands of miles.

The dense time stretches the years, why should life be like the first time we met. In the crowd of people passing by each other in the world of mortals, meeting each other is just a turn away. Ask the world what love is. If life were only like the first time we met. If life can always be like meeting someone for the first time, it is also the beginning of attachment accompanied by sadness and lingering. I didn't meet you during the season when the flowers were blooming, but now I just want to be the best confidant. If life were just like the first time we met, we would leave the sadness of the autumn wind in the distant mountains. If we didn't meet each other in youth, why bother lingering. The petals floating with the water tell the sadness of the season, and the petals dye the river water with their last body fragrance. A flower event puts the last sorrow into the river and floats in the stream.

The silent tears and mottled memories reveal the sadness of memories in the words you wrote. The lotus in front of the Buddha tells the story of once wanting to become a legend. My tears fell on the petals drop by drop. I wonder if they can wash away the dust of the lotus and make the lotus heart no longer bitter. The quiet lotus pond, the story of the moon and the lotus tells the story of the past, the moonlight is filled with the fragrance of flowers, and the lotus pond is soaked in the fragrance of flowers. The sadness that spreads all over the lotus pond spreads into the distance among the blue lotus leaves.

I don't want to let my thoughts linger, it will only leave sadness. Since trust is difficult, put your emotions into a sky lantern and let it fly in the sky without stars, so that there is a glimmer of light in the night sky, and at the same time let go of the sadness that you don't want to find back.

I want to keep a quiet beauty in the world of mortals, and a quiet joy in the sunshine. I once fantasized about walking hand in hand on the beach where the waves are gently lapping at the shore where you stayed. I also fantasized about picking the holy snow lotus at the snowy peaks of Daxinganling Mountains; chasing and playing by the creek, and picking up the flowers with my own hands when they fell. Live the sadness of falling. If I could turn back time, I would just stay at that point where it was just right and not look at the desolation behind it when I turned around. My heart is like the wind passing through the water and stopping at the water, but my dream stops at you. If you don’t look at the cuckoo’s cries of blood, you just want to stay in the text and feel this kind of story. Under the quiet sky, I just want to watch quietly and find the lost and long-lost innocence.

Time is not old, our youth has passed away, I just want to pick up the once beautiful heartache in your smiling eyes! Prose Essay: A Dream 8

I once sat on a swaying boat and admired the small bridges and flowing water and the houses. It was in Ouyuan. In March, the spring breeze and the thaw, the willows Yiyi, the whole body is immersed in a kind of joy, which is a kind of classical beauty.

And I was immersed in the sound of the slowly flowing water. The water surface was as smooth as a mirror, and ripples quickly appeared wherever the oars passed. Just like the saying: "There is no trace in the sky, but I have flown through", the ripples healed quickly. It reflects the lush green mountains on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, the flowing figures of people, and even the flowing years. One of my favorite lyrics rang softly in my ears: "Time is like water, a quick glance, so many past events, understatement." At this moment, I smell the breath of time, that breath embraces your soul and fills you. My heart is like a dream. Prose Essay: A Dream 9

What is lost has been lost, just like how can time be returned when it passes? I never regret whether I win or lose. The longer I live, the more fragile my heart becomes.

Yesterday’s prodigal son, tomorrow’s legend. A very legendary king of Chinese music, he has been wandering almost all his life, full of misery. It was these experiences that created his unique prodigal character. He is not a prodigal, but he longs for the warmth of life and cannot find the compassion. I like Wang Jie, starting from his song "A Game and a Dream" with a classical artistic conception.

Throughout the 1990s, my town was a bit rundown, with lazy streets that were a bit rustic. Video stores, game arcades, and clothing stores with a Hong Kong and Taiwan style are the only fashionable colors in this downtrodden ancient town.

The middle school is located in the back street of the ancient town, and you always have to go through the ancient street for lunch.

The midsummer years are full of separation and a touch of sadness. At this point in time, we all have to say goodbye to our classmates, either to upgrade or to graduate. Lyrics of the cassette played in the audio store: "Don't talk about separation, I won't cry because of this. It was just a game and a dream. Although your shadow still appears in my eyes, you are no longer in my world..." ".

Maybe I am born sad, but you make me strong.

Riding a Feige bicycle home like lightning, do I really have nothing? Whose heart is flying in the sky, whose experience is drifting on the sea, the injured heart does not want to speak, the past and the future are all gone Like a dream, pain and beauty are left to the lonely self.

Too many troubles in life are inseparable from you and me. Wearing a hypocritical mask, we just wander through the crowded crowds in this troubled world, whether we are crying or laughing, knowing the joy and sorrow.

Loneliness and loneliness are a good medicine for addiction. Gradually, you get used to its company. When you are alone, you like to use silence instead of words, every night. Maybe many times I would rather believe that this is a dream, and any emotion in the imaginary dream can be designed as a "game" for self-entertainment.

Her back has disappeared, slowly disappearing into the wind, so she has no choice but to stay in the wind and let it blow every day.

That ancient street, that flower umbrella, the raindrops slid down the edge of the umbrella, it was very cold, very sweet and warm, until it disappeared out of sight around the corner. The wind is still blowing, and the rain is coming to the ancient street. I can no longer find that warm little umbrella. Yes, I left, quietly, just like the Tathagata.

Who knew that tragedy was doomed, I closed my eyes and thought of you.

I have also thought about death foolishly, especially in the leisurely and lonely dusk, which is a bit sad. There are always shortcomings in life. When you look back and feel sad, you always want to be more sad. Don’t expect too much, just watch the clouds drift away. It turned out that he didn’t know the story of this song called Annie. It turned out that the girl with physical defects who died unexpectedly was the woman who loved him most sincerely in his life, the purest first love, and he sang the most sincere song for her. sound.

You have a considerate heart and your smile always fascinates me.

Nostalgic for the secluded streets and alleys, with a touch of sadness rolling in the clean pupils. Gently touching the mottled ancient corner with her fingertips, she really smelled a hint of the time. The smile raised at the corner of her mouth, the innocence in the smile was like a child intoxicated, as if she had got her beloved toy. I secretly fall in love with you, but I dare not tell you. I always lack the courage to tell you that I really fall in love with you.

When lonely people are misunderstood, when well-intentioned people are directly stigmatized, perhaps at most it is just a cycle of separation and reunion. Maybe many times we would rather believe that this is a dream, an illusionary dream.

Life, some shortcomings are just right, time, you always have to keep busy.

Isn’t life just a tireless yearning for and meeting each other? A single thought of peace brings peace to everything.

Existence, although there may not be a happy ending for everyone, at least it cannot waste time. At the end of the process, there is nothing more than desolation and greenery.

I won’t care because of this, maybe it’s just a game and a dream, just a game last night, it’s just a game and a dream.

After half a lifetime, I still have clear eyes, I can still smile like the full moon, and I can still be a naive young man. Prose Essay: A Dream 10

Some people say that love is like a game, and the protagonist of the game is nothing more than the competition between men and women. If the man wins and becomes the winner of this game, the girl will most likely marry her. If the man loses and the game can no longer be played, the girl will leave him, just like a loser in life. Sometimes, some people keep wandering in the game and have difficulty leaving the country. Does leaving the country mean seeing through the world of mortals? Life is always full of fights between men and women. Many times these things are like fireworks, starting and ending quickly. We and they are always looking for eternal feelings and love. Sometimes we are fascinated by the color, some are chasing in the feelings, some may have been pursuing the figure in dreams, and some are in the whirlpool of emotions. Struggling and persevering, I don’t know where I am and whether I have been waiting for something.

The new year is coming soon, and the fireworks are blooming in the sky, piercing the dark starry sky. Is this love in the world a dream? Is it a choice between material desires and emotions? Could it be that the results of lust are short-lived, and the real relationship is the tolerance and determination of both parties. Those things at the beginning were just the temptation of lust. When everything was over, I realized that life still had to be lived like that. These beauties with fireworks are just a dream, and when you wake up from the dream, you will get the result you need. Many times, I always feel that we are fascinated by the color. In fact, we are helpless, and we are also looking for the meaning of life. In this world, love is blind. The old man wants to marry the young man, and the young man likes the handsome, rich and sensible man. But it is not necessarily easy to get love sincerely, so we should not get married, divorce and remarry casually. When dawn comes, there is darkness, and at the end of darkness, there is dawn. Never be rebellious like that. This year’s fireworks are blooming again. Is it time for you to wake up?