It has been 4 days since my lucid dream and I am beginning to feel like it was all a fluke.
My stomach dropped thinking about all this.
It was nice of Simba to provide some commodities for me, but I was slowly getting bored of it all.
I spent the past few days building a tent with my pillows; it was nice I now had a space that could filter the harsh light.
Oddly enough, Begonia or Simba have not confiscated my pillows.
I looked around. I knew Simba with all his magical powers could monitor me from a distance. Or he could be using some hidden camera.
I realized I had enough pillows left over to create another enclosure; I decided one enclosure with lesser pillows would be used for journaling and meditating, and the other with more pillows would be used for sleeping, blocking out further light.
This felt good to me as it made my prison feel a tad less like a prison and more like a very strict "work space".
However, no matter what words I decided to use, I knew this will always be a prison and that Simba could take away any of my comforts at any time. He had full control.
...or did he?
Although he could control what I could do in this space, he could not control my dreams; that was the only time I felt in control of my body and decisions.
This made me miss lucid dreaming even more.
That experience felt unreal, but a part of me knew deep down, it was real; I couldn't place my finger how.
The experience was also exciting; who would have thought you could actually meet live people in dreams?
I thought of my encounter with Sage.
Who was he? What does he usually do when he isn't dreaming? Is he even human? I shuddered at the thought of him being otherwise.
My dread quickly shifted to curiosity...and determination. I needed to learn more about Sage, and any other lifeforms in the dream space.
Maybe they're all friendly aliens.
Only one way to find out.
I looked up and squinted; the lights were as harsh as ever.
I sighed. I wish I knew what time it was.
All of a sudden, a man materialized into my space, causing me to jump in alarm.
"What in the world...", I sputtered.
"Sorry about that," the man apologized.
I eyed him warily.
The few wrinkles on his face and gray highlights suggested an older man.
Judging off his all blue outfit I figured he was a janitor.
But I couldn't be too careful.
"Who are you?," I asked suspiciously.
"My name is Rupert," he said with a hand to his chest. "I am one of Simba's custodians."
Hearing Simba's name made my hair stand on end. It has been a while since I first met him.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Why are you here now?"
"Begonia relayed a message to me from Simba to clean up your space."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Can't Simba use his voodoo powers to clean my room?"
"He could. But that requires energy, energy he could use for Project Dreality."
I stared at him blankly.

YOU ARE READING
Trapped
FantasyThis will be a draft to a story in the works about a man sent to solitary confinement for a crime he did not commit. Desperate to maintain his sanity, he falls into a lucid dream where he meets fellow lucid dreamers, one of them a wise man who teach...