➤ COMPLETED
"You are made of dreams.
You belong to me."
"I belong to no one but myself."
"We'll see."
-
Diagnosed with a false condition called hypersomnia, Lolita has to choose between
two realms and face the most important question of all: Wil...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The both of uswere doing miserable at communication. Either that or my dreams were dreams and I worried too much about things that seemed as if they could be real. He was still standing before me, in my mind, telling me I was a mere Dream. Not easy to forget, when it was the very moment I started to question my whole existence.
And I felt like I was going insane.
Searching his name in the internet as if he were actually a real person and not just an imagination of mind, it made me stop trusting in myself. Well, that I stopped a long time ago. And his name did come up, in connection to everything he had tried to explain to me.
/Morpheus/ (derived from the Ancient Greece: μορφή meaning 'form, shape') is a god associated with sleep and dreams.
Have I seen this wiki post in the past? I wondered, how does reading one sentence I'd forgotten turn into connected and vivid dreams? Dreams in which I created not only creatures, but also strangers. Strangers that didn't much feel like strangers at all.
I knew that I'd meet him again,nothing could stop me from getting tired and wary of the real world. But how could I be sure he was made of dreams? How could I look at him, talk to him, in a way he doesn't question me, nor my whole existence. Because I did want to talk to him.
Why was my mind trying to push me towards him, when all he did was make it harder for me to live here, now, in the waking. It wasn't fair. I wasn't fair.
You are made of dreams. You belong to me.
I sighed, getting up from bed. Something inside me told me to take a walk, have some fresh air. I hadn't been anywhere near this buildings staircase in a week, so I didn't much make it outside either.
It was warm out and I let both my tanktop and sleeping pants on, paring them with used Flipflops. Maybe I could visit the grocery store? This time I pulled my pants down, getting myself into a midi skirt instead. I wasn't much fond of fashion - didn't need to when sleeping through most of my life -, but I didn't want to walk through the shop in Pyjama pants either.
I grabbed for a bag, some crunched bills and my keys, rushing through the front door before I changed my mind completely.
The sun was out and occupied with blinding me whenever branches of leaves and trees didn't cover enough of the blue cloudless sky. Birds were chirping and it wasn't too hot, nor was the breeze too cold.
