To fly away with the Doctor is my only good dream, it is my faith, it is what I see when my eyes close at night- the stars and the space and the sense of detachment from reality.
I can imagine it so clearly. He will hear my wish, he will hear my wish for him to come for me from across the galaxies and he will fly down in that glorious box of his- that box of the brightest, most beautiful blue. He will do that clever, sweet smirk of his, snap his fingers, and the blue doors will open, revealing the wonder inside- a home for travelling the stars. I will run inside with him and from that moment I will be free- every corner of existence, of space and time, ready to be explored, an adventure around every corner.
We will fly away from this tiny nook of this tiny world, and all of the most wonderful, beautiful things will be ours to see. He will take me away from reality, he will take me away from it all. Away from the small, crammed house, away from the toothaches because braces are too expensive, away from the fighting parents, away from the loneliness and all that is ugly in my life. I need him to take me away.
We will see every planet, every star, every galaxy, every universe. We will look down from the doors of the box upon flaming supernovas and spaceships unknown. We will fight monsters and save entire worlds of aliens and people to be met, and at the end of the day, we will fly away once again in that wonderful TARDIS of his.
I will travel with him forever, finally happy in the folds of time and space, and I will never look back.
My hope for this peculiar paradise of mine is my own little light in all that is black. I smile when I think of it, this life I so desire to live with that wonderful Doctor. And so, I suppose it is my faith.
And I ignore that stabbing pain deep inside, that pain that tells me it is false hope, that there is no Doctor out there in the bright blue TARDIS, that there is nothing but cold space surrounding me.
Because it is this hope, however foolish, that makes my day.