In My Dreams

Chapter 1

The world became lucid once again.
The blur of my surroundings clearing up with each second as I became aware of my fingers first, a familiar buzz taking over my face.

"Welcome back, hunny"

Looking up, our eyes locked. His were warm and earth colored. My mother, who sat to the right of me at the dining table, blinked happily with her wide green eyes.

"Hey, Dad.." I felt the words pass my lips but it felt as if I was speaking in a bubble, my voice having to be forced out, the walls of the dining room seeming a bit too close for my liking.

"Stressful day? You don't usually bring us here"

I nodded, smoothing my hands across the table cloth, yet I felt nothing against my fingertips.
"Yeah. Long, long day.. I miss you guys" I commented hollowly, watching as my mother gently curled one of my thick brown locks around her finger, only to let it drop back to my cheek.

She rarely spoke in my dreams. I could never make her no matter how hard I willed it, I stopped trying after it made me so upset, I woke myself up.

Looking up at my father, who always had this glow about him, like someone had turned on a nightlight inside of him. His coiled hair was neatly trimmed, skin tanned as if he had spent all day in the sun.
"I just wanted to come back here again..since the last time I-"

"Stormed off" he cut in with a smile, his hearty laugh filling my head. I gave a small sound in affirmation.

"I'm sorry"

And just like that, his face and shoulders fell and his stare went blank.

Shit.

The apology came out so fast I didn't really have time to stop myself. If there's one thing that I hated about these dreams, it's that normally, the versions I created in my head had certain trigger phrases. Phrases that I didn't know how to respond to, therefore I couldn't create a dialog. One of those few phrases was "I'm sorry".
Maybe it was because I never got the chance to say it to his face-his real face.
The thought made my heart wrench.

And just like that, my heart beat raced and the room start to fog again, like a memory that kept slipping through my fingertips.

Leaving a dream was a very specific, breathtaking kind of experience. It starts with a familiar pulling feeling, as if you're being sucked away from your body.
Another small price I pay for having such a vivid imagination.
I could practically feel my brain whirring back to life as the dining room caved into a moment of darkness, a buzz running under my skin in waves.

I knew I was back in my bed when I heard my curtains flapping from an open window, the hum of a my fan, and the unmistakable, obnoxious snoring of my roommate.

A groan left me, a headache forming at the front of my head as I shifted onto my side, body stiff and head heavy.
I patted around for my phone for a good five seconds before finding the damned thing. The screen came to life with the intent to blind, my screensaver of a photo of me standing under an archway on campus, a tight lipped smile on my face as both of my grandparents hugged close to my side.
It was my first day.
I remember my grandpa having to carry his blubbering wife back to the car, who was somehow surprised to learn that she couldn't in fact, live in the dorm with me.
Endearing, yes, but it felt good to be on my own finally. It felt good to finally be figuring out who I am.
Plus, I don't have to wear those horrid, absolutely outdated sweaters my grandma knits for every occasion, if not an occasion at all.

4:27

Climbing down from my bed, I padded off to the jointed bathroom.
I had only managed four hours tonight. But the lucidity of my dreams were becoming clearer with each passing night. I could still recall the vibrant colors of my mother's dress as I splashed handfuls of water onto my face.

___

That morning, my roommate, Sarah, awoke with a start from her phone that was much to close to her head. Slapping her hand over it in a lousy attempt to silence it.

"Morning, Sunshine" I hummed over a styrofoam cup of coffee, one of the few free accommodations of college.
Bottomless expresso.

Sarah practically tumbled out of the bed, bringing a few pillows to the floor as she navigated her way over to her desk on the opposite end of the room.

"Today" she mumbled, pulling open a drawer in her desk, turning over pill bottles.

I spoke through a cheek full of oats "Wednesday, October 7th"

She hummed before finding the right prescription, throwing her head back and taking it dry.

"You have that stupid psycho exam today, don't you?" I felt her hover over my shoulder, glazing over the textbook that rested in my lap.
"Psychology. And yes, it's thirty percent of my overall grade this semester" The woman reeled away from my shoulder, the percentage taking her by surprise.
"This early on? Shit. I'm glad I don't have that course"
Simply, I raised my brows, thumbing through a few pages. "It's better than staring at a canvas all day"

"A canvas, with tits on it"
Sarah corrected, followed by the squeak of the bathroom faucet.