Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
act one, chapter two: out for summer!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
n. langdon
My worst nightmares and finest dreams tend to have the same reoccurring person in them.
Theodora Langdon is a woman that I've only dreamt of in my spilling mind over the past three years. Never once have I seen her in the real-world since then. Which is why my heart palpitates to the thought of her; both a good and a bad thing.
Firstly, the dreams consist of me walking through a field of flowers. Since an early age, my siblings and I have gained a strong admiration to things such as flowers or others along the lines of them. As our grandmother is a florist and has her own business downtown, the anatomy of the flower and floral language was engraved into our brains. I personally love the unnecessary skill that my parents taught us, while my brother, not so much. The field usually contains of narcissi, poppies, tulips, bluebonnets, wildflowers, the list goes on and on. It's truly what I imagine an area of heaven looks like. So bright and so peaceful. There's no honest context to the dream of all though; other than my mother being beside me and we walk through the garden for centuries. The field never seems to stop.
And well, the nightmares, are the complete opposite. There's not a night where I don't wake up drenched in sweat with my heart rate being sky-high. While the dreams are what I imagine heaven to look like, the nightmares are truly in the depths of hell. The stunning flowers that I dreamt of running through with my mom are now rotted and dead. The sky above us that was usually too lightened to glance at is now gloomy, you'd think there would be a thunderstorm rupturing soon. Mother is no longer by my side and is rather being strangled by the alive vines growing beneath us.
