dear dream,

one

You know, when people reminisce about memories, they'd usually think of a reel of flashbacks like those used for films, though for me, all I could think of are colors. Tiny bits of saturation amid the dullness.

It's hard to describe something that is evidently mundane to me but incredibly bizarre to others. My normal was literally seeing yellow and blue. I'd have people pointing things out to me all the time, telling me which colors are which—but I couldn't grasp it because no matter how much they tried to explain it to me, I'd never understand what red or orange looked like.

I would know that an apple is supposed to be red, it was supposed to stand out amongst the other fruits, though to me it didn't stand out. Everything seemed absolutely the same to me.

And I was used to it.

That is, until I met you.

I remember the time, it was 2:00 am. We've streamed numerous times together, playing Minecraft. I also remember being really tired, though you gave me a huge serotonin boost when you told me you were gonna show me what you look like.

I was ecstatic, I could finally plaster a face to someone I've been talking to for the longest time. But after this, when you turned on your camera, all I could see was a pillow along with some headphones on top of it.

I'm not sure if you remember this, but the reason why I do is because it was the first time I saw something other than yellow and blue. I thought I was hallucinating—it was bright, way brighter than what I usually see. Then I realized it was color—your headphones had color.

Yet, I think what made this color so much brighter was your laugh. At first, I couldn't muster up a reason in my head as to why I enjoyed hearing it—I just knew I did, and that thought made me laugh too.

I learned later that the color was orange, and strangely, every time I come across that color again—whether it would be the fruit in our local Tesco or someone's shirt as I passed by them during my daily commute—I get reminded of you.

I remember when my doorbell chimed in the middle of the day, and I turned around, confused because I had not been expecting anyone or anything at that time.

Your familiar laugh sounded from my headphones, and you told me to go check. You had said something like, It's probably just a package George, it's not like a criminal would ring your doorbell.

I remember getting up, peeking through the door from the peephole, and wondering why there was a package sitting at my doorstep.

Back in my room, I had put my headphones back on and shown you the package. I could hear the excitement in your voice as you told me to open it and show you what was inside.

As I cut open the box, I recall my disbelief at seeing a dark-blue plushie inside with a small paper taped on it, reading From Dream :). I faced you and held it up for you to see as I said, Dream, what is this?

Your chuckle resounded in my ears.

George, even if you're trying to hide it, your efforts are useless. You've been so tired lately and you clearly haven't been getting enough rest. So, since I can't do anything about it miles away from you, I thought, maybe if you had something at night, you'd be able to sleep better.

I remember laughing because I could feel the blush radiating from your face. I stared at the gift, wondering how you even noticed my tiredness—a feeling that accompanies me often.

You didn't have to do this, there wasn't even any reason to, but of course, you still did.

I remember feeling strange, giving you a quick thank you before ending the call.