Parasomnia

Chapter 3

George tries to process what he just heard. A voice, was he sure it was who he thought it was? His head had played tricks on him before. It had given him false hope and an indescribable feeling of elation that eventually ended in emptiness at the realization that there was only one person in his tiny, cold room, and that was himself.

He hears the voice say something again, though its distant and he has to focus on it to clearly hear the syllables spoken. It seems to be repeating the word, over and over. That one word. His name. George attempts to push the fog from his mind, centering his thoughts on that voice. That one voice that got him through so much. Even when it wasn't physically there, the memory and recollection of it was enough to get him through some of the hardest times in his life.

George tried with all his might to reach out for that voice. Even though he could feel hot, sticky air around him, it still felt like he was drowning in that frigid lake. Darkness enveloping him as he tried to reach out and grab at the lifeline being presented to him. His mind reached out, yearning, stretching, desperate to cling on to the light, the voice.

He starts rising from the darkness. Slow at first, then rapidly grows speed until he's forced to close his eyes because of the brightness. Suddenly, all his senses come rushing back all at once. He lurches into a sitting position, gasping for air, needing to rid his lungs of that helpless drowning feeling. His eyes stay squeezed shut as he takes deep, quavering breaths. He feels hot air surround him, though its not an uncomfortable heat. The warm surrounds his entire body in an odd way, the same feeling you have on a hazy summer day with a cool glass in hand. George smells moisture. Not the kind you would smell on the beach, but more like clear, fat raindrops. Finally, he peels one eye open.

The first thing George takes in is he's sitting on some kind of foliage. It's a pale, glowing blue with a definite bottom and walls that dont have a ceiling. It's a flower, George slowly realizes. An enormous blue flower. The next thing he takes in is the presence of someone sitting across from him. Had George's mind not been in a floaty, clouded state, the first thing he would have realized was that he, and the boy sitting across from him, were not covered by clothes. The only thing wrapped around them was a piece of cream colored fabric that covered their waste and hung down to their upper thighs.

George looks down at his bare feet, skin pale in the dim, sapphire light coming from above him. He takes note of his body, checking mentally for any signs of pain but cannot find a single one. He raises hesitant brown eyes to golden skin across from him. The boy sits crisscross with hands relaxed in his lap. Freckles cover every expanse of his body, crawling up his feet and legs, running down his toned arms and spilling out onto his hands, creeping up his chest and neck and then finally coming to rest on his face. George gives his eyes a chance to adjust before trying to identify the person. He needs to be thinking straight but he's doing just the opposite. George feels like he's floating up in the clouds, surrounded by blue and permanently resting in a state of levitation among cotton candy clouds.

Chocolate eyes look over the boys face. A strong jaw with defined cheekbones, a long narrow nose covered in sun kisses, blonde hair cascading over his forehead, and bright, emerald green eyes. George would recognize those eyes anywhere. It is Dream.

George lets out a trembly breath and he feels tears prick his eyes. Dream smiles wistfully. George shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. He runs his hands through his hair and tries to take deep breathes. Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He wanted more than anything for this to be real but he's become all too familiar with apparitions of people he's longed to see. He meets Dream's eyes again. Theres so much in those eyes. So much so that George is scared to look into them for fear of drowning. There's pain, relief, hope, disbelief. George is certain the same is mirrored in his own eyes but just covered by a thin sheen of tears.