Fantasy- Updates Exist Sporadically

Dream Twenty-Two

A/N: Not a mistake in counting; dream twenty-one is not important to the plot, so I didn't include it.

That night, Jackson asked for a dream and Cor agreed, but he needed to have a dream first. A good dream. Hopefully one about the farm again that Jackson would enjoy. Yet, as he laid down, that exhausted feeling came over and he didn't have the time to direct his thoughts one way or another.

He dreamed he was in the dark chicken house again, collecting eggs. The chickens eyed him but didn't attack. They remained calm but suspicious. He placed the eggs in his bucket and left slowly, carefully. He walked back to the house, washed the eggs as he had seen Jackson do, and placed them on the counter. Then he went back out to the stables, greeting each horse, spending the longest time with Apple. He led them outside and to their field one by one, then walked with them for a little bit, feeling the green stuff beneath his feet. Everything was calm. Even the goats weren't making any noise. The only sound was the gentle wind blowing through the trees, rustling the leaves. It was cool on his neck, his new short hair unable to stream behind him, but allowing him to feel the breeze in a new pleasant way.

He left the horses' field and walked through the rows of the different plants—alfalfa, wheat, potatoes, beets. He brushed his fingers against the tall plants (well, tall to him) as he walked. He reached the orchard, breathing in the sweet smell of the flowers, hearing the buzzing of the bees and birds. He sat down, staring at the animals moving back and forth, carefree. He sighed and smiled, watching as a hummingbird appeared, flitting back and forth between flowers faster than the eye. It came nearer to him until it buzzed right in front of his face. He opened up his palm; the bird tried to find whatever it looked for in the flowers there, and when it found none, it flew around his head as if it was convinced he was hiding some elsewhere. He laughed, and it flew a little way away before coming back when he stopped. It was a gorgeous bird—bright, vibrant colors, merging together as its wings beat impossibly fast.

He laid on his back, staring at the blue sky. This was perfect. Peaceful. He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the feeling of the green stuff, and the buzzing of the bees and birds. Perfect.

He opened his eyes to his brown ceiling. A smile was still on his face. He sat up, taking time to orient himself. Not at the Warehouse, no Guards. At the farm. He stood, the floor cold on his bare feet. He walked to his door, opening it slowly, peering through the darkness. He crept into Jackson's room—the man was asleep on his side, snoring softly. Cor placed his hands on his arm and his temple, closing his eyes. It was almost second nature, this position. Like something he always knew, or perhaps it was just from doing it every time he gave someone a dream. He concentrated on transferring the dream.

It barely took a minute for the warm feeling to come and go. He let out a breath and crept back into his own room, settling down and closing his eyes again. He fell asleep again soon after.