Forgotten

——So i am very likely going to rewrite the beginning, I am not pleased by the pacing and some of worsing. I just want to see if anyone would be interested in reading and them i might post the revised version. If not she will be my baby.

Chapter 1

I was standing at the busstop, going… somewhere. I couldn’t remember where I was trying to go, or whereI was. A part of me said that this was the bus stop by my house. I felt sure ofit. It didn’t look like it. Not the bus stop, nor the neighbourhood. However, Icould see my house just a few steps to my right. It looked like my house andfelt like my house, but it shouldn’t have been here. Wherever “here” was.

Gosh, why were so many people waiting forthis bus at this hour? Was it even morning? It felt like it should have been,but the sun's position seemed off.

Someone elbowed aggressively past me,heading somewhere in a hurry. Everybody seemed in a rush—walking on thepavement, walking in the middle of the road. Why were so many people walking inthe middle of the road? Maybe that was why the bus was late.

I tried to check the time, but my watchwas broken, and my phone battery was dead—or maybe it was the phone itself thatwas completely dead. I threw it, watching it shatter on the pavement. It made afew people in my proximity jump. I smiled at that, satisfied. At least thatwould make them keep their distance.

Since the bus didn’t seem to be in ahurry, I pulled out a cigarette and—damn. Of course, the bus decided to show upthen. Not even the universe wanted to agree with my smoking habits. No wondermy sister kept complaining about it.

Everybody rushed to get on, and I walkedcasually toward it, keeping my distance, trying not to get caught up in thechaos. That was when I saw her. She was beautiful. Short and curvy. Soft at allthe right places, lean where one should be. Her face was heart-shaped anddotted with the most adorable freckles. Her eyes—those big, black eyes—staredat me intently. She looked out of place on the busy street, just as out ofplace as I felt. I was drawn to her, and I couldn’t even explain why. There wasa spark in her eyes, something I couldn’t name.

“Do you see me? Do you really see me?” thegirl asked, her voice full of excitement.

“What?” I looked at her,confused.

“Nothing,” she repliedquickly, then smiled brightly.

“I guess I don’t lookblind, huh?” I laughed it off.

“No, no, you don’t, Isuppose.”

She looked like she wanted to saysomething else, but the words didn’t seem to come.

“So, why did you ask if I can see you?” Iasked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

Her eyes darted around nervously for asecond. “I was just being silly,” she answered, her tone a little dry.

“Hm,” I said, trying to think of somethingelse to keep her close for just one more moment. “I’m Evander, by the way,” Iadded, hoping to learn more about her.

“I am Roya,” she said softly, her eyesstill searching my face like it was a puzzle she had to solve.

****

The ground beganto shake, and I felt my whole body being pulled away suddenly.

“Please no, please no. Youcan’t wake up right now!” I screamed into the void.

It was too late. One person had finallyseen me. He had really noticed me—all by himself. Why did the universe hate meso much that it didn’t even let me enjoy being seen for more than a minute? Ihad been hoping to be seen for so long, but I couldn’t even know for sure howlong it had been. Time didn’t exist. I was living outside of it. I didn’t know for how long. I didn’teven know how I knew what time was. But I knew—I was stuck in the dream world.Cursed forever to roam people’s dreams. Never to be seen.

Where was I now? Who was I with? I triedstudying the environment. I tried to locate the dreamer, but my mind was toodistracted.

Evander... what a stupid name, I thoughtto myself. He probably wasn’t even special. I had just gotten excited because Iwas seen.

It was her. The dreamer. They were quiteeasy to locate. It was just something about them—you could feel they were morereal. Everyone else was like an NPC in a game. The dreamer had that aware lookon their face—even if, funnily, they didn’t know they were dreaming.

She was a cute old lady, dreaming about hergrandkids visiting and having a tea party. Part of me wanted to join them, butI’d learned my lesson: don’t interact too much with the dreamers—unless, ofcourse, they made contact first. Which rarely happened. Most times, it brokethe fabric of the dream because the person’s brain became confused aboutsomeone existing in a reality they created. Everything went according to theirimagination, except me.

I lay down in the grass and watched thescene unfold in front of me. The grandma looked happy, which made me wonder ifher grandkids visited her often in real life—if she had these dreams to sootheherself. Maybe dreams were a sweet escape for her. It could have been that, ormaybe she just dreamt about whatever made her happy throughout the day. I neverknew. I would never find out.

I wished I could sit next to them andtalk. Ask all the questions plaguing my mind. Find out more about their realworld. What was life like? How did it feel to be alive? How did it feel to notalways be on your own?

I often wondered if I once had—or stillhad—a family. Did my grandma dream of spending time with me? Did I disappear?Did they miss me?

I wanted to believe they did. What if theywere still waiting for me, hoping that one day I’d come back?

I looked up at the bright blue sky andsighed, dejected. Every time I tried to remember a time before, my mind was metwith darkness. It felt like all my memories were hidden behind a wall Icouldn’t reach or access.

It didn’t matter. I would never find out.

There had been hope, for a fraction of asecond, when that guy—Evander—looked at me. Really looked at me. I was seen.And for a moment, I thought there might be a way out—whatever “out” would meanfor me. But what was the point in hoping?

The grandma let out a loud laugh when oneof the grandkids started acting silly for attention. She grabbed the small,laughing child and pulled him in for a tight hug. One more time, I wondered ifI had ever experienced that kind of bliss.

I jumped up abruptly and took a fewdetermined steps toward the park’s exit gate—the way out of this dream. It wastoo sweet, too perfect. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Gates, doors, and sometimes windows—thosewere the pathways out of one dream and into another, but only if the dreamerwasn’t using them. Or planning to. Throughmy time here, I had learned many things about humans—but I had forgotten how toreally be one.I had been in the dreams of good and bad people, happy and sad,hateful and loving, dreams of the brilliant and the simple.

I started to run through the gate, hoppingfrom dream to dream. Determined to find something to keep me busy and calm fora little while. Maybe somewhere with a library would suffice. I had learnedthat I could easily read the books the dreamer had read. I found out a lotabout a person from their book taste.

After I passed through a few doors, I endedup in a huge museum. This was going to be nice. I walked around for a while. Iloved nature and science. All the extinct animal skeletons gave me a sense oftime—something I could never really feel in any other scenario. There was justsomething about watching fossils that filled me with a wonder and nostalgia fora time I had never experienced.

Once more, I wondered how my life must havebeen.Did I have dreams to study archaeology? Science? History? I wanted tobelieve that I did.

I had walked around the museum until I knewit like the palm of my hand. I believed I had explored everything there was toexplore. Maybe now it was time to locate the dreamer, because I really enjoyedmicroanalyzing them. After a quick scan around, I easily found him—tiny andscared, crouched down next to one of the dinosaur displays. I stopped next tohim, wondering how I’d be able to help. I didn’t want to startle him or makehim panic because of the intruder in his mind.

“Hello there,” I said, a little wary. “Areyou okay?” He looked up, big eyes filled with tears, a clear trail marking hischubby cheeks.

“I lost my mummy,” the small child said,his voice shaky. “She walked away. Abandoned me. I think she’s still angry,” hecontinued between sobs.

“Oh... do you want help finding her?” Iasked, my heart breaking for him.

“No. She’s gone. Everyone’s gone. I can’tever find them.”

His sobs became more panicked. The hurtfelt real, and I was certain he would still feel it when he woke up. Why was hedreaming of abandonment? Another thing I’d never know.

The dream began to waver, and I was certainwe had reached the threshold of it turning into a nightmare.Poor boy, I thoughtto myself. At least I know I can help with this one.

I sat down next to him, put my arm aroundhis shoulder, and gave him a gentle shake to get his attention.

“I’m not real. None of thisis real,” I said, staring into his eyes. “I mean… you’ve never even seen mebefore.”

I didn’t think it was working. He seemedto panic more and more, and he still wasn’t waking up. It was scary for me too.The whole place had changed—morphed. All the displays I had enjoyed now lookedterrifying. Everything felt alive. And they were all staring at us.

“Hey, hey, little one. What’s your name?”I tried distracting him, hoping it would calm him down—and the dream along withhim.

Sob. Sob.

“Mikey.” Sob.

“Okay, Mikey… how good of a runner areyou?” I asked, my eyes darting around with growing paranoia.

Mikey was really creative when it came toconstructing a nightmarish atmosphere. I’d seen a lot over the years, but this?I could never quite get used to it. People’s nightmares always found new waysto freak me out.

“Okay, Mikey,” I said gently, crouchingbeside him. “I’m Roya, and I’m going to help you walk out of this ridiculousmuseum.”

I tried to sound confident, reassuring—eventhough my skin crawled with unease. Mikey looked so small. He couldn’t havebeen older than six or seven. But he wasn’t looking at me. He wasn’t looking atanything at all. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his little body had startedrocking back and forth in a swift, panicked rhythm.

“Mikey!” I called out, my voice tight witha mix of frustration and anxiety. “Do you hear me? Let’s run out together.”

“They’ll catch us!” he whimpered.“They’ll catch us and eat us for dinner. I want Mummy!”

I reached out and gently took his hand,giving it a reassuring squeeze as I pulled him up to his feet.

“They won’t, sweetie. Ipromise. I’ll fight them off for you.”

Something in that broke through. Hefinally looked at me—just for a second—and gave a tiny, trembling nod. Then hestarted to run. His small palm stayed pressed against mine as we darted towardthe exit together, the museum groaning and shifting around us like it was aliveand furious.

I could’ve sworn those stupid displayswere all actually trying to eat us. The teeth were clicking, bones werecontorting, and steps were closing in on us.

I wanted to finally get out just as muchas my companion did. For a second, I even entertained the idea of letting go ofhim and jumping through a door into the next dream.

I didn’t want to abandon him. It had beena while since I was able to interact with anyone for this long. It felt nice,even if in a convoluted way—helping a child through a nightmare.

“We can do it, Mikey! The door is th—” Thedoor wasn’t there. Neither was the museum. Or Mikey.

In my hand, I was now holding a piece ofcrumpled paper. “Have you seen this man in your dreams?”

And beneath the text—a picture of astrange-looking person. He had A very plain,average-looking face. Rounded head, a somewhat broad forehead. Small,close-set, with a neutral or slightly unsettling gaze, thin lips, closed,giving a calm or unreadable expression.

I looked up.

Everyone around me was the same man from theposter. “Oh, not this again.”

Chapter 2

I was making my way through a huge,never-ending crowd to get to the shop. I had come here for something—there hadbeen a strong urgency for that particular thing—but I couldn’t remember what itwas, not even if that would save my life.

Why were so many people having the sameidea—and the same urgency—as me? It was late at night, and surprisingly, theshop had only just opened. That alone had attracted a huge crowd. Was it thenew phone I needed to replace my old one? No. I didn’t think so.

The crowd was becoming more and moreclaustrophobic, almost like a singular entity with one goal. Everyone wastalking constantly, to the point where there was no language anymore—just adeep, endless hum.

Whatever it was, I convinced myself itcouldn’t be important enough to subject myself to the risk of this insanestampede. I pulled myself out and leaned on the corner of a weird shop that was“definitely not selling weed.” I worked my fingers through my jacket pocket,looking for a cigarette.

That was when I saw her. She was in a rush,walking smoothly through the monster of a crowd around her.

This wasn’t the first time I had seen her.I was certain of that—just as certain as knowing the sun rises in the morning.But I couldn’t put my finger on where or how I knew her. It wasn’t a face onecould just forget. Her eyes... they were the kind that could haunt your dreamsforever. Big. Bright. Expressive. Like they saw through you, like she hadalready figured out the whole world, and now she was just waiting for the restof us to catch up. I was not going to let her go, not when every fibre of mybody was drawn to her.

“Hey!” I shouted, full of hope that shemight realise I wanted to grab her attention. And I could’ve sworn that shemouthed my name before she walked toward me like she was on a mission.

I pushed off the walland started moving toward her. I couldn’t lose her now that I had found her. Her? I asked myself, contemplating. Why was she someone I wanted tofind? But now that she was here, I had to understand all my confusing feelings. “Evander,”she said again, and it confirmed the fact that she had mouthed my name earlier.

“Youknow me,” I said as a statement, not a question.

“Knowmight not be the right word,” she replied, her expression unreadable. “But we did bump into eachother before.”

“I don’t remember your name.” I sounded apologetic, and maybe slightly pathetic. I didfeel quite desperate to solve the puzzle standing in front of me.

“It’s Roya.” Shesmiled.

“Roya? That’s not a name I should have forgotten.” Roya. The name onmy lips was charged with secrets, mystery, and a promise of an adventure—if Iwere to follow her anywhere.

“So, Roya, where did we bump into eachother before?” I asked, eager to unravel this enigma. Thebuzzing crowd suddenly quieted, and I was a little taken aback by the fact thatthe square was now empty. There wasn’t a single sound around—apart from me andmy mysterious girl. I hadn’t seen anyone leave, yet they clearly had. And theshop I had been so eager to get into? It was just an abandoned, broken-downbuilding. “Weird,”I whispered to myself. “Webumped into each other at the bus stop near where you live.” She didn’t seem tobe affected by the sudden shift around us.

“Hmm,I still can’t remember.” I hadn’t taken the busin a long, long time. “I’m sorry. I do have afeeling that we really met before, though.” I really did. “I swear.” I put my hands on my heart theatrically. “I could neverforget a face like yours.” She blushed a little andawkwardly covered half of her face with her hair—almost like she wasn’t used tobeing perceived.

“Haha”she faked laughed sarcastically. “Well you clearly did.” She joked. “But nohard feelings, Evander.”

I wasat a loss for words. What could I say to keep the conversation going? My eyesdarted around, looking for something I could make conversation about. Anything.But I didn’t have to, since Roya had it covered. “So,since you can’t remember me, I need to make sure I make myself more memorablethis time.” She seemed excited about that prospect. “This place gives me thecreeps.” She gestured around the square. I wasn’t sure why I thought it was asquare, since it looked more like a shady alley. “Tell me about it. I can’t even rememberwhat the hell I was doing here,” I said, an eerie confusion creeping in.

“Iknow a place,” she said, gesturing for me to follow. She walked like someonewho had never been bothered by anything. That gave me peace.

Theplace didn’t even seem as eerie as I’d first thought. It was just a small alleywith one closed building, a corner shop, and the “definitely not selling weed”place next to us. I could see the faint glow of TV light flickering through afew windows. It suddenly felt... cosy. Inviting. Like a completely differentplace from the creepy alley it had been moments ago.

“Let’sgo, Roya,” I said, grinning. “I’d follow you anywhere at this point.” Crazyenough, I really would. She didn’t say anything. She just walked, not evenbothering to check if I was behind her. She didn’t need to. She already knew Iwas there—close enough that I wouldn’t lose her.

I took asecond to really take her in. She was shorter than me, but not as short as I’dassumed when I first saw her from a distance. Her hair looked a littlemessy—not quite curly, not quite straight. It seemed alive, bouncing with everystep she took. But it was her eyes that stayed with me. The kind of eyes thatmight haunt me forever—in the best possible way.

We walkedin silence for a moment, only the soft echo of our footsteps breaking it.Normally, silence would feel awkward—but with her, it felt contemplative.

If anyone had told me I would ever feel like thisabout walking alongside someone in silence, I would’ve frankly laughed in theirface. But now... I was just somebody else. Somebody who wasn’t good ol’fucked-up me. It was just a boy and a girl, walking and enjoying each other’scompany.

In a way,it was better this way. Talking had ruined too many of my interactions—withfriends, girlfriends, or potential girlfriends.My dad had told me, loud andclear, that I was ultimately just a screw-up. He possibly had been right allalong. Roya can’t know that. She was my chance to a new start. Someone whohadn’t known me or my family. Someone who had no tie to anything I knew —atleast I hoped so.

“So,Evan—” “It’s Evander,” I interruptedquickly. Only my mum ever called me Evan. And once she was gone, I hated everytime someone tried to do the same. Roya’s steps faltered for a split second.She looked at me with an unreadable expression that was quickly masked by asarcastic smile.

“I hit asore spot there,” she said cheerfully, without a hint of mockery in her tone.“I do apologise, Evander.Either you really hate the shorter version, or I haven’t earned the honour ofcalling you that. If it’s the latter, I’ll make sure I get there.” In thatmoment, I let out a sigh of relief. I thought I’d messed it all up—that she’dpull away from me. But she looked unaffected, unbothered by my smalloutburst—if you could even call it that.

"It's alright," I said, trying tolaugh it off with faux casualness. "I haven't been called that in awhile."It was the truth-and I really hoped shewouldn't ask any more questions. She wanted to. I could tell by the look on herface. But she chose not to. Smart girl. Iconsidered finally pulling out a cigarette. Wouldshe mind? I wasn't sure. I wasn’t sure either if it actually mattered. I wantedher to like, for reasons I couldn’t explain. Most people didn’t care for mysmoking habit, but they did tend to be smartass about it and try to explain allthe side effects. I didn’t want more preaching.

Itapped my pockets several times, only to find them empty.

Nocigarettes.

Nophone.

Nokeys.

Nothing.

I tapped my jacket pockets again. Stillnothing. Panic threatened to take over, and I didn’t know how to stay calmwithout risking her seeing me differently. She once more didn’t mind. Actuallydid her best to ignore my little, quite embarrassing, panic. She just stoppednext to me and straightened some invisible creases on her dress.

“You okay” she asked me calmly, after a fewmore moments. I looked at her. I truly admired her calmness. “Did you losesomething?” Roya continued.

“Yeah,” I said, mimicking her calmness. “Icould have sworn I had my phone and keys on me.” I added, playing it coy,though I was still a bit panicked. That phone was one of the first things I hadbought with my own hard-earned money. It was just mine—not some bribe from mystepmom or my dad trying to show off how much better he was than me.

Play itcool, idiot. I mean, deep down, I knew itwasn’t the phone or the keys or even the wallet that had me stressed. It was mycigarettes. I needed them. As cliché as it sounds, they kept me calm—grounded. Ineeded to be grounded in this moment. I had to be cool and funny and charming.Truthfully I only started smoking as a middle finger to my dad.. Roya didn’thave to know I was borderline addicted.

“Iprobably left home in a rush and forgot,” I said, quickening my steps toget—well, wherever it was we were supposed to be heading. I was certain thatonce the scenery changed, I’d feel more like myself again.

Shecaught the hint and picked up her pace—almost like a challenge—walking just alittle faster than me. The streets started to look more familiar, and Irealized we were approaching the park just down the street from my old home. Iused to adore that park growing up. It was one of the few cool places I wasallowed to go on my own—far from my dad’s judging looks and my stepmom’spitiful glances.

Wewalked in silence again. She led us to a more secluded spot, then dropped downgracefully and lay back on the untouched grass. I sat next to her—minus thelying down.

“Looking at the sky, the billion stars—it should make mefeel small, but instead, it makes me feel more important. I’m here, in thismoment, and I can take all of this in,” she said, smiling, her gaze still lostin the infinite sky. “I mean, what’s the point of anything? If you think aboutit—and I do that a lot—everything should be pointless. Yet we still find thingsto care about. We find reason. We find hope.”

“What doyou hope for, Roya?” I found myself asking. Her name rolled off my tongue likesoft butter.

“I hopefor peace of mind and freedom,” she replied quickly.

“Are younot free?” Was I free? I liked to think I was. I’dtaken one step closer to moving out of my dad‘s home—more like a house, really.It hadn’t felt like home in a long time.Roya looked at me, for the first time, measuring her next words. Maybe we allhad secrets—even someone as calm and open as her.

“Are weever free?” she asked, answering with another question. “We’re all fighting ourown constraints.” She played for a moment with a strand of hair that had fallenacross her nose. “Some people’s constraints are just more obvious than others.”What were her constraints? I wanted to ask so many questions—but I also didn’twant to intrude. I knew my own constraint, and I did my best to fight againstthem, or in some scenarios I just ignored them. I was thinking, so I was free.Nobody could take that away from me. Even if I was tied down my mind was stillmy mind.

I chose to respond with just acontemplative “hmm” and dropped my body—with a loud thud—next to hers. I lookedat the sky from her perspective and… I didn’t get it. It wasn’t some magicalview that made me feel important. It was, frankly, making me feel small andinsignificant. What was I in the grand scheme of things? I closed my eyestightly and willed all these intrusive thoughts away. Darkness felt morecomforting. I didn’t need stars to mock me and my small existence. I could begreat; I just needed to continue on this path and prove to everyone that Iwasn’t a fuck-up. I hadn’t chosen the path he had planned for me. So what? Ihad my own personal wants, my own choices, and sure as hell I’d do anything tokeep following that path.

***

I opened my eyes, almost expecting to seethe eternal sky above me. But instead, I was greeted by my dull ceiling. Astrange calm washed over me — like the comforting embrace of a nurturingpresence. It was fleeting, but I fully let myself sink into it.

Chapter 3

He vanished just asquickly as he appeared. But the sky stayed, and the stars were just asbeautiful. Strangely enough, they did calm and ground her. They were eternal,appearing mostly the same in everyone’s dreams.

I liked to trace all the constellations I knew. Was there anythingbeyond? Was I beyond?

The dreamland never had to answer to time, place, or any laws ofphysics. Things just happen. After looking around, I realised I was standing onan oddly shaped building with an oddly shaped roof. The building was tall,narrow at the bottom, and wide at the top. The roof had straight edges thatthen curved in a warped shape, like a rollercoaster. The building sat on top ofa triangle-like structure, balanced on one of its angles. Creative, I thoughtto myself. And on top of all that, it was in the middle of a forest, on top ofa mountain.

Why the extreme setting, one might ask? My best guess is because it wasgoing to be one of those dreams where you fall. The first time I got stuck inone, I thought it would be my last day alive. The fall was terrifying. Eventhough it lasted only a few seconds at most, it felt like it dragged onforever. I still remember my body feeling boneless and inert under thegravitational pull of the ground below. The dreamer—by accident—always pulls medown with them. After each time I felt the call of the earth below, a chunk offear chipped away from me. It should have been a positive experience, making memore fearless. Instead, I felt like my humanity was being taken from me onceagain.

She was going to do it this time too. The woman walked with theincredible grace of a young ballerina, right at the very edge of the roof. Totop it all off, she was blindfolded.

Every step she took seemed planned, as if she could sense hersurroundings without needing her eyes. I was really impressed. The wind blew,sweeping the long dark hair from her face, and I noticed the streak of tears onher pale cheek. It made her look even more beautiful, in a tragic, hauntingway. Her white nightgown flowed with the wind, which came chaotically fromevery direction. Despite all this, her steps never faltered.

By following an intrusive impulse, I decided to join her on the walkalong the edge. It hadn’t looked so hard when she did it. Besides, I wasn’t inany real danger of dying—not here.

I stepped behind her, careful to keep some distance so I wouldn’tdisturb her dream. But the moment I took my first step, I nearly plunged intothe dark, endless abyss below. Maybe the path was harder than it looked—ormaybe my balance was just that terrible.

Still, I wasn’t about to give up. I rarely got new adventures or eventhe thrill of something unfamiliar anymore. I had lived countless lives incountless dreams. And I remembered them all in perfect detail.

All of them—except for whatever came before.

I took a breath, mustering every ounce of determination I could, thenextended both arms for balance. I was weightless—light as a feather, delicateas a butterfly. My feet suddenly moved with a will of their own, as if they’dborrowed the same graceful rhythm as my companion’s.

She was still far ahead of me, her steps suddenly quicker—almost urgent.Then, without warning, she leapt. Once. Twice. For a brief moment, she didn’tjust move—she floated. Like gravity had no hold on her.

The roof stretched on, endlessly—running into forever. A part of mewondered if this was my existence now: an eternal ledge to walk, with nobeginning and no end. Or maybe… maybe it was her existence.

I wanted to run to her, to ask, to understand. To learn from her.Noteverybody allowed me to stay in their head, like Evander did.

I once more entertained the hope that he could be my escape.

My gracious dream host reached the end—so much for the never-endingledge—and turned around to begin her delicate journey all over again.

In my clumsy attempt to turn before she reached me, I lost my balance…and fell.

I fell before the dream had a chance to end, before the dreamer couldfall with me. I was in this downward journey all by myself.

This was new. For a second, the whole world seemed to turn upside down.My eyes registered all of it like it happened in slow motion. It wasbeautiful—how the sky, once again, ended up above me. I allowed myself to enjoyit.

I closed my eyes and almost hoped that, once I reached the ground, itwould take me—swallow me in its mysterious depths and save me from the hell Iwas inhabiting. I was ready to die… almost.

I hazily hallucinated, below me, the embrace of an older woman wholooked a lot like me. For reasons that were still an enigma to me, tears randown my cheeks, glistening in the moonlight.

Instead of the warm embrace of this figure, only the cold, hard groundgreeted me. It didn’t hurt in the slightest; it didn’t shake my body or takethe air from my lungs. It was just… nothing. In that moment I understood lifeand meaning. A fleeting life makes you appreciate it more; invincibility makeseverything hollow. People fight for eternity and forget to appreciate theirephemeral lives.

If they were faced with the prison of eternity, they would long forthose fleeting moments—the ones you know you can’t bottle up or keep, butyou’re still glad you experienced. With eternity, you can master everything.But the cost is the satisfaction that comes from the results of your labour. Ihave no satisfaction left in me.

I stayed in the grass, not wanting to break this moment. From thisposition, I could still see the girl walking the edge of the roof, her stepsless fluid and more weary. Time had come. Soon I’d leave this forest and travelinto someone else’s consciousness.

She finally slipped and fell just as gracefully as she walked. A loudshriek interrupted the serene silence. Her nightgown and hair were flailingaggressively around her. She was kicking and punching and screaming.

“Shush, soon it will be over,” I whispered into the darkness. She fellfor quite a long time, since usually they wake up soon after the fall. Sheinstead almost reached the ground right next to me.

***

The relentless pull between dreams—I was used to it by now. But thenauseating change of lighting was still a thorn in my spine. The drop Iexperienced this time felt as if my soul left my body for a split second. I wasdisoriented longer than usual.

The place was an attack on all of my senses. Full of colour and devoidof life. I turned around, trying to locate the origin of my drop. It was aslide. A silly, oversized slide.

The whole area looked like an oversized playground, with colourfulpaintings on the already colourful walls. It was a maze. A deceptive chamberwith no door, and stairs leading nowhere. There were short, random walls,leading your way across a fake nursery-like room.

“I would rather be stuck in a haunted forest,” I said aloud. My wordsechoed in an almost never-ending loop, which only added to the creepiness. Iscanned my surroundings once more. There were more slides, swings, see-saws,and monkey bars—everything that would bring joy to a child, minus the joy.

I wandered for a while, hoping to locate the dreamer. She could behiding in any of these crevices. “One must be really troubled to dream thissweet hellscape,” I muttered to myself.

Then I heard the sweet melody of laughter coming from inside the maze. Ihalted as it stretched and morphed before me. The short walls grew taller withevery cautious step I took. The silence was broken only by the thudding of myfootsteps and the ringing laughter.

I pushed myself further and further in, until I found myself in afunhouse. Every wall was covered with mirrors. It would have been fun, if I hadappeared in any of them, but instead I was met by a haunting labyrinthreflecting itself.

I missed seeing my face, even more so since that was the only aspect ofmy life—and of me—that I had a faint, but fading, recollection of. I sat downright in the middle, contemplating. I had accepted my fate a long time ago, Ithink. I lost track of time somewhere in the eternal jump my life had become.

The laughter stopped momentarily, to the point that I forgot I wasn’talone. Now it was just me and the cold, empty glass before me. I touched itgingerly, almost willing it to shift into my reflection.

There was a time when I looked into my own eyes. They were deep brown; Icould still picture them. I touched my nose, sliding my finger gently acrossit. There were many faint freckles splattered across my nose and up to theapples of my cheeks.

I slowly moved my wandering hand toward the top of my head and then slidit gradually down my messy hair. I used to love my hair. I just knew that. Itwas blonde or light brown. I dragged the end of my hair in front of my eyes toinspect it. The colour meant nothing to me now. It was walking the faint linebetween light brown and blonde.

I moved from my hair to my ears, my chin, then down my neck, trying touse my tactile senses to “see” myself. I could map all my features out and thenwill my brain to connect all the dots until a vivid memory of my face camethrough.

My curious gaze was fixed on the looking glass in front of me for a longtime. At one point, I wasn’t seeing what I was looking at. My brain graduallydisassociated, and only a tainted blur was visible. It took me a few moments torealise the blur was tears filling my eyes and rushing down my cheeks. It waslike a dam had just broken.

I had been cold and unfeeling about my situation for a significantamount of time. I thought I had already walked through all these feelings. Ithought I couldn’t be devastated anymore. I was mistaken.

I tried to gaslight myself that it was all alright and I could make thebest of this situation. Meeting Evander changed all of my progress andacceptance. One contact with another human being and all my walls gotdemolished.

I embraced the silence for a while, not wanting to move one bit. Thedream could end at any moment, and then I’d be tossed into the next one, andafter that into another, and another, and another.

I wished to see him again, but it was already a miracle we had met twicein such a short time. I think. All I ever had was now. I had no past, and Icouldn’t see a future. I lived in a perpetual present, but deep down, I knewthat was a dishonest thought. My body might not be aging, but my mind, mybeliefs, and my opinions constantly evolved and shifted. I grew together withall the dreamers I haunted.

I gave the mirror one last dirty look before standing up, almost likechallenging it to reflect me. The emptiness mocked me. Then, in a sudden fit ofanger, I kicked it. I expected to see shards scatter around me like a crimescene. But the only victim was me—no blood, no evidence, no perpetrator insight.

The rules of my pathetic existence weresardonic. This world could affect me, but I could only affect it under specialcircumstances. This was a prison wrapped in the pretty bow of immortality.Whatever crime I committed must have been terrific.

The laughter echoed once more, the sounds bouncing off the mirrors. Idecided to follow it, unravel the mystery behind this dream. I left thefunhouse—and with it, my small breakdown. There was no point in falling apartwhen there was no way of mending all these pieces back to my old self. Outsidewas another maze with short walls and shifting directions.

It felt harder to follow than the initial one. I stumbled across morethan one dead end. It was quite frustrating to the point I’d been contemplatingjumping over the walls to get over it already. But it felt wrong to do that.Something told me that this was a journey I had to take and maybe there was ameaning to it at the end. I stood still for a moment to take it all in. Ineeded to shake off the emotional turmoil. Going through the narrow,ever-changing passages might be a good exercise in solving puzzles. One day Icould possibly solve mine. Hope. That word terrified me more thananything in this word. I couldn’t be hurt physically, so building up hope andbeing disappointed was the biggest pain I could possibly experience. It was rawand real.

After a few heartbeats I felt that my mind clarified enough for me tonot be blinded by emotions. I could do it. As a matter of fact this was farfrom the most complicated dream I’ve been in.

The labyrinth was a hard one tocrack, because of it’s misleading nature. Pure determination wasn’t enough togo successfully through it. I had to learn to let my instincts and feelings toguide me. It pulled me through my deepest fears and regrets. Once o allowedthose feelings to control my steps, it became easier.

as an attack on all of my senses. Full of colour and devoid oflife. I turned around, trying to locate the inception of my drop.

It was a slide. A silly, oversizedslide.

The whole area looked like anoversized playground, with colourful paintings on the already colourful walls.It was a maze. A deceptive chamber with no door, and stairs leading nowhere.

There were short, random walls,leading your way around a fake nursery-like room.

“I would rather be stuck in a haunted forest,” I said aloud. My wordsechoed in an almost never-ending loop, which only added to the creepiness. Iscanned my surroundings once more. There were more slides, swings, see-saws,and monkey bars—everything that would bring joy to a child, minus the joy.

I wandered for a while, hoping to locate the dreamer. She could behiding in any of these crevices. “One must be really troubled to dream thissweet hellscape,” I muttered to myself.

Then I heard the sweet melody of laughter coming from inside the maze. Ihalted as it stretched and morphed before me. The short walls grew taller withevery cautious step I took. The silence was broken only by the thudding of myfootsteps and the ringing laughter.

I pushed myself further and further in, until I found myself in afunhouse. Every wall was covered with mirrors. It would have been fun, if I hadappeared in any of them, but instead I was met by a haunting labyrinthreflecting itself.

I missed seeing my face, even more so since that was the only aspect ofmy life—and of me—that I had a faint, but fading, recollection of. I sat downright in the middle, contemplating. I had accepted my fate a long time ago, Ithink. I lost track of time somewhere in the eternal jump my life had become.

The laughter stopped momentarily, to the point that I forgot I wasn’talone. Now it was just me and the cold, empty glass before me. I touched itgingerly, almost willing it to shift into my reflection.

There was a time when I looked into my own eyes. They were deep brown; Icould still picture them. I touched my nose, sliding my finger gently acrossit. There were many faint freckles splattered across my nose and up to theapples of my cheeks.

I slowly moved my wandering hand toward the top of my head and then slidit gradually down my messy hair. I used to love my hair. I just knew that. Itwas blonde or light brown. I dragged the end of my hair in front of my eyes toinspect it. The colour meant nothing to me now. It was walking the faint linebetween light brown and blonde.

I moved from my hair to my ears, my chin, then down my neck, trying touse my tactile senses to “see” myself. I could map all my features out and thenwill my brain to connect all the dots until a vivid memory of my face camethrough.

My curious gaze was fixed on the looking glass in front of me for a longtime. At one point, I wasn’t seeing what I was looking at. My brain graduallydisassociated, and only a tainted blur was visible. It took me a few moments torealise the blur was tears filling my eyes and rushing down my cheeks. It waslike a dam had just broken.

I had been cold and unfeeling about my situation for a significantamount of time. I thought I had already walked through all these feelings. Ithought I couldn’t be devastated anymore. I was mistaken.

I tried to gaslight myself that it was all alright and I could make thebest of this situation. Meeting Evander changed all of my progress andacceptance. One contact with another human being and all my walls gotdemolished.

I embraced the silence for a while, not wanting to move one bit. Thedream could end at any moment, and then I’d be tossed into the next one, andafter that into another, and another, and another.

I wished to see him again, but it was already a miracle we had met twicein such a short time. I think. All I ever had was now. I had no past, and Icouldn’t see a future. I lived in a perpetual present, but deep down, I knewthat was a dishonest thought. My body might not be aging, but my mind, mybeliefs, and my opinions constantly evolved and shifted. I grew together withall the dreamers I haunted.

I gave the mirror one last dirty look before standing up, almost likechallenging it to reflect me. The emptiness mocked me. Then, in a sudden fit ofanger, I kicked it. I expected to see shards scatter around me like a crimescene. But the only victim was me—no blood, no evidence, no perpetrator insight.

The rules of my pathetic existence weresardonic. This world could affect me, but I could only affect it under specialcircumstances. This was a prison wrapped in the pretty bow of immortality.Whatever crime I committed must have been terrific.

The laughter echoed once more, the sounds bouncing off the mirrors. Idecided to follow it, unravel the mystery behind this dream. I left thefunhouse—and with it, my small breakdown. There was no point in falling apartwhen there was no way of mending all these pieces back to my old self. Outsidewas another maze with short walls and shifting directions.

It felt harder to follow than the initial one. I stumbled across morethan one dead end. It was quite frustrating to the point I’d been contemplatingjumping over the walls to get over it already. But it felt wrong to do that.Something told me that this was a journey I had to take and maybe there was ameaning to it at the end. I stood still for a moment to take it all in. Ineeded to shake off the emotional turmoil. Going through the narrow,ever-changing passages might be a good exercise in solving puzzles. One day Icould possibly solve mine. Hope. That word terrified me more thananything in this word. I couldn’t be hurt physically, so building up hope andbeing disappointed was the biggest pain I could possibly experience. It was rawand real.

After a few heartbeats I felt that my mind clarified enough for me tonot be blinded by emotions. I could do it. As a matter of fact this was farfrom the most complicated dream I’ve been in.

The labyrinth was a hard one tocrack, because of it’s misleading nature. Pure determination wasn’t enough togo successfully through it. I had to learn to let my instincts and feelings toguide me. It pulled me through my deepest fears and regrets. Once o allowedthose feelings to control my steps, it became easier.

That is all i have for now. Still a lot to build and rebuild. I have an idea of the backstory direction amd ending.