My dreams are concrete. Grey solid wishes build by yellow blue red helmet soldiers. Hard under my skin, the soft grass of nature barely a child memory. I don't like look back I look up. See the concrete skeleton grow into my paper sky. What are mountains? I forgot I now getting square shaped ones with endless windows to dream in. Reflecting not the sky but more windows to create infinity. Memories are stamped by red or black chai. Like the masters telling us to take a last look before forgetting those walls forever. I walk thru new places ,I never noticed them before since no street before would lead me to them. Now they are surrounded by a blue wall. Inside green cocoons. The holding holds a growing dream inside. Sleepless builders working faster than any grass could grow. I hear the howls of their machines where ever I go. Moving the earth increasing the mass of the cities. How empty other parts of china must be now that we carried all into the big cities. Building ghost towns which lonely waiting for life to flood in which may never will and lifeless houses with plastic trees. Stay happy alone. In my concrete dream I can fly, I never touch the ground. A grey yellow sandy mist makes it hard to look far but I while flying I see under me the beautiful dream come true. Tiny dreamer like ants getting a number. Which might be 1148 in a black tower. They bought in for 70 years. Enough to see a child get old. The child might be me and I hope I never awake from my dream. My dream is not colorful like the rainbow. Didn't knew about a blue sky. No soft mountain clouds. My Dream is real and solid. Like the concrete dream MA TE 混凝土筑成我的梦， 士兵们戴着红黄色头盔，打造出坚固炽烈的混沌希冀。 僵硬的肌肤下，自然里柔软的小草勉强拼凑起一些儿时回忆。 我不愿回首， 抬头仰望时， 我看到混凝土骨架长入苍白如纸的天空。 山为何物？ 我早已忘却， 如今我躺在有着无尽窗户的矩形山脉里做梦， 窗户的倒影里没有天空，只是更多窗户的倒影 黑色或红色的拆封住回忆， 正如大人物们的告诫，请在永远忘记那些墙之前再看最后一眼吧。 我走过新的地方， 未曾注意到它们，因为从来没有哪条街能带领我去往那里。 它们被蓝墙围绕封闭， 里面是绿色的茧， 梦就在这茧中生长。 任何一种草的生长速度都不敌无眠士兵们的建设速度。 无论我身在何处，巨大的轰鸣声总缠绕着我， 在流沙聚积城市的边缘，又是如何的空洞荒芜。 完工的鬼城兀自等待着， 等待着被永远不会到来的生命湮灭， 如同丧失生机的房屋和塑料制成的树木， 期待空洞被填满。 我在砼梦中起飞了， 再也不会落地， 一片飞沙走石使我不能远视， 当我升入云端时 我看到了，那些美好的梦想全都成真。 蝼蚁般的逐梦人手持号码牌， 会是这座黑塔里的1148户吗？ 他们买断七十个春夏秋冬， 足够见证一个婴儿走向古稀， 我会是这个婴儿吗？ 我祈求自己永不梦醒， 我的梦不似彩虹斑斓， 蓝天是什么？我不知道。 连绵起伏的云山不复存在， 我的梦真实而又空洞， 恰如砼梦。