If My Thoughts Had Wings

Writer Name: Rafi Ullah

I have always been told I’m a daydreamer. My teachers would snap their fingers in front of my face during math class, my friends would have to repeat jokes twice, and my coffee would go cold while I stared out of cafe windows. But none of them understood the truth what if my daydreams weren’t just distractions? What if they could… take flight?

It started on a Tuesday morning. I was brushing my teeth, staring at my reflection, when I thought, I really hope I don’t spill coffee on my shirt today.

The next second, a small, feathery creature about the size of a hummingbird but shimmering like sunlight on water flluttered out of my ear. Its wings sparkled, and it zipped across the room before vanishing through the bathroom window. I spat out my toothpaste in shock.

I blinked.

“Did I… just…?”

The thought hit me literally, because another one escaped. This one was I’m late for work, and it flapped out in the shape of a frantic little pigeon.

Over the next week, I discovered the rules. Every thought I had whether or accidental grew wings. Big thoughts like I should quit my job became great golden eagles, powerful and intimidating. Small thoughts like I need a snack flitted away as tiny moths. Embarrassing thoughts became gaudy parrots, shrieking loudly enough for nearby people to hear. (Unfortunately, those parrots repeated everything.)

The worst part? People could see them.

At first, my coworkers thought it was a magic trick. They laughed when a paper-thin butterfly labeled Two weeks until payday landed on the office printer. They applauded when a silver dove of I think I might be in love soared toward the ceiling tiles.p

But the novelty wore off. My boss frowned when a raven labeled I don’t care about this meeting circled his head. My barista stopped smiling at me after a swarm of bees each carrying the thought I hope she spells my name right this time buzzed around her face.

Worse yet, not all thoughts were polite. One afternoon, while waiting for the bus, a great horned owl landed on my shoulder. Written in glowing letters across its feathers was a thought I’d tried to push down: I’m lonely. People stared. A child tugged at his mother’s hand and pointed. The owl stared right back at me, heavy and knowing.

I couldn’t take it anymore. My mind was a bird sanctuary with no fences. I needed control.

So I tried thinking nothing.

It’s harder than it sounds. The moment you say, Don’t think, a thought appears: Am I thinking now? and poof a sparrow shoots out of your ear. I tried meditation, music, even watching bad reality TV, but the thoughts still came, still took wing.

Eventually, I learned to live with them.

Some mornings, I released them on purpose tiny paper cranes of gratitude for the first sip of coffee, soft white swans for peaceful afternoons. I started carrying a notebook so I could sketch the ones I liked. My apartment filled with drawings of flamingos labeled vacation dreams, crows carrying what ifs, and robins with happy memories.

One evening, as the sun set, I walked to the park. The sky was already crowded with thoughts some mine, most belonging to strangers. Lovebirds intertwined mid-air. Hawks dove for ambition. Clouds of moths whispered grocery lists.

A small boy stood by the swings, crying. Above his head floated a single bird, dull and gray. It carried the thought Nobody wants to play with me.

I knelt down and whispered, “Hey, want to see something?” I closed my eyes and thought You’re brave. A bright, gold-winged canary burst out, singing as it circled the boy. His tears stopped. He smiled, reaching toward the canary as it danced in the air.

That night, lying in bed, I realized something. If my thoughts had wings, I had the power to choose which ones I fed, which ones I let fly. And maybe just maybe if I filled the sky with enough hope, kindness, and joy, others might start thinking those thoughts too.

After all, a single thought can change someone’s day. And if that thought has wings… it can go anywhere.