夜,像砚台的墨一样浓黑。当年我才就读小学一年级或二年级吧。冬天深夜里,悠哉地在就读的小学操场坐翘翘板。翘翘板一上一下一上一下,铁板轻微地嘎嘎响,音律很单调。突然感觉头晕恶心,眼前的景物连黑色都无法辨认,而翘翘板的大红色长杆也失去了颜色。我艰难虚弱地爬起身子,这才发现是做梦啊,正躺在床上,“哇”一下,吐出晚餐,把 Night, like ink ink ink as thick black. That year I was in first grade or second grade. Winter late night, leisurely sitting in the primary school playground sitting sepboard. Seesaw up one or more, the iron plate rang slightly, the rhythm is very monotonous. Suddenly feel dizzy nausea, the eyes of the scene in front of even the black can not be identified, while the big red wand seesaw also lost color. I was so weak and weak that I got up and found that I was dreaming. I was lying in bed. “Wow,” spit out my dinner