Distorted Dreams

Dreamscape

It was a rather simple home. A kitchen opened up to the living room, a couch and a coffee table residing in the room. The table was covered in several papers and notebooks scrawled with scribbles and gibberish. There were several squished energy cans on the couch, the aluminum can turned into an aluminum plate. A basketball and a duffel bag were by the door as well as several pairs of shoes. A computer on the table was playing a piano tune that sounded beautiful, yet angry. Then a voice spoke out.

"What is this place?" It was not mine. It was twisted so that I could not distinguish whether or not it was male or female. How old the speaker was. Or where they were.

"I could be asking the same," I chuckled. "Maybe we see different things. Explain your surroundings."

"Well, there's a bed with black diamonds on a blue comforter, a nightstand, a desk cluttered with confusing writing, a window, and pale blue curtains. There's nothing outside. Literally nothing. What about you? Is it the same for you?"

"No. But that does sound a lot like a room I go to everyday."

"Where are you at?"

"Um... an apartment. The kitchen is open to the living room, where there's a coffee table and a grey couch. There's Monster energy drink cans on the couch and a ton of paper and a laptop on the coffee table. It's all gibberish too though. The music from the computer is kinda angry. I wonder why we're seeing this."

"That sounds like my living room! Is there a duffel bag by the front door? How many shoes are by it?"

"There is a duffel bag. And for the shoes...five pairs."

"Why are you in my living room?"

"Why are you in my bedroom?"

"Oh, this is your bedroom? Well, I'm just going to make myself at home."

"If you do that, I'll rip all this paper and delete the music."

The voice was silent. "Can I sit on the floor?"

"Yeah, sure. Can I sit on the couch?"

"Knock yourself out."

"So who are you?"

"I should be asking you that."

"Both of us should be asking that."

"Fine. I'm $&@9:!—. Who are you?"

"I'm sorry. Repeat that?"

"$&@9:!—. Now who are you?"

"I can't understand what you're saying."

"Just say your god damn name," the voice snapped.

"Jimin."

"What?"

"Jimin. My name is Park Jimin."

"I can't comprehend what you're saying."

"I can't hear your name." Then I gasped. "Can this be one of those soulmate dreams?!"

"What?"

"A soulmate dream! Where if you come into physical contact to your soulmate, you see more and more of them until you figure it out. Then the dreams go back to normal."

"Well, how many people have you had physical contact with today?"

"Hmm. About maybe a little over six."