Finding My Way to You

Cutting Down the Walls

The covers suffered from the tight grasp they found themselves in as Hob's consciousness fought against waking up. In a swift movement, he was thrusted out, the last thing he could remember being the words that he had wanted to say. Now freed due to no longer being trapped in his wake.

They came out with no strength to them, for they had little use here in the open. He was aware that it would not be heard by whom he wanted, but part of him wished that it would be. For as quiet as that had been, the following string of curses showed all the frustration he felt.

Shrinking on himself, he hoped that that outburst was kept to the room. Who knows what others would think of him acting as such this early in the morning. He would like to be spared the comments.

He would not face that outcome just yet, instead, he threw the covers off himself. They were starting to feel almost as restricting as the memory he just went through was. With them out of the way, he proceeded to just starfish on top, bleary eyes looking up.

Behind them, he was able to picture what he had witnessed, images rushing through as quickly as the events had. It was too much to process, too difficult, he couldn't muster the push to start detailing it all down, he wasn't even sure that he wanted to. The mere idea brought his eyes close to tears.

None dared to fall, for he would find a way to somehow fix this. Hob wasn't even sure if there was something to fix, but he would. It just couldn't be right that his friend believed any of the things that he had felt in passing, not when he was missing so much more.

Hob would make him see his perspective of things, no matter the cost. He would help Dream understand that dreams are not only visions seen when going to sleep. No no, they were much more than that, they were hope.

Now all he had to do was wait for the day to be over, to be able to be in the same space as the being. He would talk and talk until his voice failed him. Nothing would be able to keep him constricted as the memory had.

Even if he once more has to go through nightmarish realms, he will. If he was to piece the scenery himself again, he will. He wasn't going to just discard the chance given to him, he would use it to its full capabilities.

But as mentioned, that won't happen until nighttime strucks. The rest of the day was still awaiting him, being patient as it hoped to get him up and running. Shit, his day!

His vision blurred as he sat up on the edge of his bed, shouldn't have done it that fast, but he had to see his clock. Great, he was going to be late if he didn't have a move on. Not the best for him to be late this early in the week, it was Monday, he had classes to run.

Not a long bath day then, quite a pity. He felt like he needed one, but a quick shower would do just fine. He could only hope that there were still some clean clothes left ready to go.

So off he went, rushing his routine, before grabbing his work bag, his sketchbook, and whatever snack he could find in the kitchen at an easy access.

✧✧✧

The last thing he had needed was pouring rain on this side of life, seeming to compliment the deep rooted sadness in him that had been incrementing since he woke up. What made it worse was that thanks to the rush of getting here, he had forgotten an umbrella, and unlike dreams, he wasn't the most particular on walking draping wet onto the ground. The only thing that he could hope for was that his laptop and notebooks were faring better than his clothes.

Which they should be, for he had invested in a waterproof bag knowing that this could be a very possible outcome. On a happier note, he did manage to arrive a few minutes early, which he was now using to dry himself with some tissues that he had in his office. He also thanked his past self, for he had left a sweater that was just begging him to change into.