Lucid Dreams | A Short TayNew Fanfic

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Sleep deprivation has a lot of effects on one's body. One of these might include day dreams or Lucid Dreams, leaving one questioning if things were real or not. Hallucinations more common than reality sometimes. Tay was sure that when he saw the 'we're open 24x7' on the bakery a few blocks away from his apartment, it was one of those hallucinations.

He couldn't sleep. But then again, it's not something new. He’s almost positive his body hates him so much that it wants to take the relief of sleep away from him, force him to spend too much money on coffee at nights, look up every treatment for insomnia, and still not let him get a proper sleep.

But it seemed that on this particular night, when he was walking to clear his mind– and to get a change of place–that he just so happened to find an all hour open, coffee shop meets pastry shop, which actually felt like an environment welcoming to Tay, especially at four in the morning. He dragged his aching feet inside.

The air he was met with when he pulled the door open was cool, in contrast with the warm weather, turning hot slowly, outside. The walls were covered in long drapes of curtains, and outlines of the name of the bakery in neon light, and the only light within the feet, that hung on, behind the counter, from the ceiling. A few small lights lit on each table top, a shadow of the cafe name being casted on the floor. It smelt like coffee and fresh bread, there even was soft music playing from a speaker behind the white, glass and wooden counter. The whole environment was almost too peaceful. Like an instant insomnia killer.

No one was in the place though, it was empty, but also clearly open. Tay hummed to himself, satisfied with his choice in change of atmosphere. He slugged his backpack off, walking to the back, the furthest table, and slid himself in the corner. Hiding from the world, and hopefully from the burning in his eyes and the weights dragging them down.

He picked his laptop and headphones out of his bag. Maybe here he could get something done, get an idea, anything.

He’d been stuck on writing a screenplay for weeks, for his screenwriting class, and he wished he could blame that for the cause of his lack of sleep, but he’s nearing his fifth month of not getting even a nice night's sleep, excluding his few nights of decent sleep after staying up for a few days. But no, he’d just been stuck because all he wants to do is rest his body, but that seems to be the one thing he can't do for the sake of his life. Writing a screenplay? Editing the pictures and videos? That all he can do, but he’s drained of ideas, and staying in his apartment with the loud man is not of much help. His deadline isn’t helping either. But recently Off had taken mercy and decided to do the editing for him, as Tay’s been processing on 30 minute naps and caffeinated drinks on most days, and a sad symptom of sleep deprivation is anxiety and, ah, irritability. A lot of it.

It’s funny, because when he’s tired, he tries to keep himself running, hence the drinks, but with an unrested body and splurge of sugar, he shakes, and he’s clumsy, and he talks too much or not at all. So really, Off didn’t have much of a choice, and gave him all the help he could. Tay searched through the cliches, trying to see if he could turn them into something new, he racked his notes of stories and confessions, he picked his brain raw of every word and every combination, yet he couldn’t continue this script no matter.

It was so goddamn frustrating. How hard is it to put words that made sense, created a story, flowed together? Apparently on his now, 28 hours of no sleep, very freaking hard. He sighed, completely tired, willing to everything in the sky to just grant him a night’s sleep. and the weights under his eyes always felt like they were dragging him under, but just as he felt his head drop unawaringly, he heard a yell from  somewhere, the kitchen maybe.