Imperfect Dreams

I’d dreamt of gold and glass and colour and light and beauty and women with smiles on their faces and love in their hearts. The city I stood in was none of those things.
Was a lie a lie to everyone or just the person who’d envisioned it? Was it wrong to have thought only the best and ignored the unashamed truths? I supposed I’d never know as I wiped the detritus from my shoes and tears from my eyes.
Another city another day would become my motto. I lived it. I hated it. Those imperfect dreams, they haunted me.