dreamland | dreamnotfound

17

17 - melatonin pills ; dreamland | glass animals

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clay entered his place and gave patches a small smile as she approached him, meowing when clay scratched the top of her head.

"sweet girl, i'll go take a nap, alright?" clay mumbled, patches meowing in response. he walked up to his bedroom and changed into a white shirt and shorts, more comfortable clothes. entering his bathroom, he opened the mirror cabinet, grabbing the bottle of melatonin pills. they were the type you'd leave in your mouth to melt and tasted like mint, he supposed taking those pills were comforting. clay was tired, and he wanted to sleep for a very long time.

that was the first time clay looked into the mirror in weeks, the colour has left his green eyes. he wished to empty the melatonin bottle, to feel the contents slide past his lips and down his throat, but that wasn't wise. he just wanted to feel hollow, for the flowers within his lungs stung his insides with fire ants, invading the place and consuming the leftover sweets in his system.

he took three pills out of the bottle and placed in underneath his tongue, the pills melting quick. clay walked slowly to his bed and flopped, he made himself more comfortable and beckons for patches to sleep with him, the cat, obliged; spinning and making the mattress soft with her paws before laying down at the foot of his bed.

clay sighed, and closed his eyes. the pills taking effect.

--

clay opened his eyes to see that he was laying down on cold tiles, his back pressed flat against the grandiose floors. a metallic smell invaded his lungs, it was blood, yet clay didn't want to accept that yet.

sitting up, he stared at his surroundings. he was in a bedroom, a master's bedroom. there was a king sized bed in the middle of the room and a balcony on the right, on the left, was a bedside table with drawers, a decent sized painting, picture? on top.

the picture was of him, but young, with his dad, and his siblings. but they were wearing such fancy outfits, where was he? his hands reached out to hold the framed piece of paper, making him jolt back at what he saw and heard.

"stay still boys." phil gently said, and his boys followed.

"you have such wonderful sons, sir." the painter said, and dream looked up at phil with sad eyes. expecting the correction that the little prince wasn't his son.

"indeed they are wonderful, in their own ways, but wonderful nonetheless." phil smiled, ruffling dream's blond locks.

clay stared at the picture, before placing it back on the bedside table.

"what was that?" he murmured, walking around the room. clay took notice of the phonograph in the other corner of the room, he assumed that this room was his.

touching the phonograph, he felt like he was in a trance, drunk off of the familiar feeling of warmth and love, and so clay looked up - seeing himself dancing with george in his arms. they were happy, and george looked so happy too. was that him?

he opened the door, and walked down the hall. hands flying up to his face upon the sight of maids who have either been killed or killed themselves by drinking poison. he stepped into one of the rooms, a library perhaps, and looked out the window. there was a village, but it was burned down to the ground, and the people residing there were also no more.

walking down the stairs, he entered the dining area. clay was greeted by a long table, and on the wall right above the valued glassware, was a very big painting. it was of him and george.

george was wearing a white ruffled shirt, his hair was curly and he had a small yet genuine smile. you could see how happy he was from the rosy tint of his cheeks alone. he had his hand resting on dream's, clay's? he doesn't know, but the hand was resting on their shoulder, and on his finger was a wedding ring.