VII

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I'm never happy to start a new day; I'm happy to end it. End it by sleeping and seeing Dream again. He's always waiting for me in our little dream world, and he always greets me with a hug when I show up. Tonight was no exception.

As I stand sandwiched between his two arms all I can think about is that this is too good to be true. It really feels that way. But he's told me that he's real, and I believe him. Why should I doubt him? Trust is a key part in any relationship, and I do trust him.

But still, there was this nagging feeling in my gut.

Dream seemed to sense my distress and pulled back to look into my eyes through his white mask. "What's wrong, Georgie?" He asked.

"I don't know," I said; a lie. He looked at me, clearly not believing what I had just said.

"You can tell me," he started. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I trust you." That wasn't a lie, because I do in fact trust him. "It's just, I don't know, is this even real? Are you even real?"

"Well, what do you think?" Dream asked me. What did I think? "What do you feel is true deep down?"

"Well, I think that there's a possibility," I said, "that you aren't real."

"Go with your gut, George."

"You aren't denying it."

He looked at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking behind that mask of his. Was he really not real? Then how is he always here? He pulled me back in for a hug. He was shaking slightly as he tightened his grip around me.

"Sorry," he said, he voice sounding defeated.

He really wasn't real, was he?

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