Whitewashed Dreams (A Chat blanc Story)

❦" As kids we love the hero , as adults we understand the vilain "❦

Damn Chat a philosophical/poetic chapter? I guess the backstory makes it relevant for the plot later on.

In the dream, I found myself standing in a dark, foggy forest. I couldn't see much in front of me, but I could've  hear the sound of rustling leaves and snapping twigs underfoot. I took took a few hesitant steps forward, unsure of where they were going. 

 As I walked, I began to feel a sense of dread growing in the pit of their stomach. I knew, deep down, that they were in this forest because of something terrible that happened. Suddenly, a figure appeared out of the fog. At first, the figure was shrouded in darkness, but as it came closer, I could see that it was a young woman. She looked familiar, blue eyes, small and blue  pigtails but the person couldn't quite place her for some reasons. She looked at me with a mixture of sadness and anger in her eyes. I  tried to speak, to apologize, but no words would come out of my mouth.

I felt paralyzed with guilt, unable to move or speak. The girl continued to stare at me, her gaze never faltering. I felt a sense of overwhelming remorse and regret wash over them. They knew that they could never take back what they had done, and the weight of their actions felt unbearable. 

I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face, as the woman's image began to fade away into the fog. I tried to reach out, scream, say something... but nothing came out.  As the dream ended, I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart racing a million miles an hour. Is this a   manifestation of my guilt? A reminder of the terrible things... I have done.  I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, knowing that the memory of what they had done would haunt me forever. I drift back to sleep to another dream. 

~~~

"Wow, Princess. You should wear your hair down more often. You look absolutely ravishing and pretty that I might just get jealous if other black cats start looking at you," I half-joked still amazed.

"Really?". Her soft voice ravishes my soul. Was I taking this seriously or trying to joke around? Not in the mood for it right now. Now that I think about it, she hasn't said any cat puns yet... this is where is usually add her own sassiness.

"I mean it," He concluded, honestly, "you look beautiful, M-"

I wake up.

It was another one of those flashbacks dreams.

It's getting worse. It's...

It's addicting.

Blood on my shirt, rose in my hand, you're looking at me like you don't know who I am. Blood on my shirt, heart in my hand still beating.

What did life become? What your soul desires, or what destiny has chosen upon us?

All tied up, rag clogging the gapping mouth, the melody that once flourishes now twists dreams, hopes..

We've all had the experience of waking up from a dream that seemed every bit as real as everyday life, even if the sights and experiences were ones entirely unfamiliar to our waking selves. But these feels real. I want them to be real.

I want it all be a dream.

~~~

Enfermé dans ces fardeaux

La douleur ronge mes esprits

Je ne veux finir dans un coin de la nuit

Mon essence desire la conquête

Un moineau qui poursuit la tendresse

Or ces barreaux me condamne

D'un exil éternel