Wake up!

Chapter 1

He was eerily gorgeous. His shaggy hair was as black as midnight and his almond eyes as green and brilliant as emeralds. He was tall and broadly built, always towering over my 5'5 frame and his skin was so smooth and pale but his features so acutely sharp. I'm not sure when I started to realize any of this, but I think one day it just kinda hit me, like a kitten opening it's eyes for the first time to the world. It was funny actually, since I knew he wasn't real. I wanted him to be real, for so many reasons. In a way, he had became my best friend. I told him everything. I didn't have to pretend with him. Why would I pretend with someone I never really had to come face to face with anyways? There was need for it. Sometimes, I didn't know what to think of it all, because most of the time it all felt so real. He felt real. 

    Staring at him now, laying back in the grass with an arm over his eyes and his other over his stomach, I wished for one brief moment that I was normal. That I dreamt normal dreams, or not at all, but then again I was also thankful for the man in my dreams. I believed it was my minds way of keeping me sane, by giving me someone I could tell all too, someone I could break around and someone I could just be my complete self with. 

I never told anyone of these dreams. I wouldn't dare. I could only imagine what everyone would say, and I already felt insane all on my own and I didn't need anyone saying it out loud for that matter. 

    I can't remember ever not dreaming of him. Since I can remember, he's always been there when I fell asleep, welcoming me into my dream. When I was younger, so was he and we would play for hours, running and giggling in this world of make believe that my head conjured up. In a way, I guess you could say we grew up together. He knew everything there was to know about me. He probably knew more about me than I did my own self. 

    I thought about that for a moment, suddenly laughing, because he wasn't real. My mind had created him on its own accord. I guess I did know myself pretty well after all, seeing as he was me. That thought made me laugh even harder. Removing his arm from his face, he looks at me then with a question in his eyes and a hint of concern. I guess I sounded mad to even my own subconscious if the person I invented had to look at me with such a look. I sighed, shaking my head with the laugh dying off my lips.

    There were two things about my dreams that didn't make much sense.. apart from sharing my dream world with this man my subconscious had created. 

    He never talked. Not once. He would nod and shake his head, but words never once left his lips. I had long ago coined it to the fact that maybe I just wanted someone who would listen without interrupting. Then there was the fact that when I arrived in my dreams, I was always wearing what I wore to bed. I quickly learned as I got older that sleeping in the nude or without a bra was something I just couldn't do. I wasn't even sure why it mattered since none of it was real anyway, but I did. I really never understand this tidbit, but I knew the mind was a powerful thing and I just left it at that. 

    Shaking his head, his mouth pulled down in a frown. I was about to tell him not to worry, my mind was just a little heavy tonight, because I did not want to talk to this figment of my dreams about how he was, well just that. However I was stopped, not able to get the words out before my dream came to an end as my eyes flew open from the alarm blasting on my phone.

    Looking in the mirror, I checked over myself. My golden blonde hair was long, falling in waves behind my back, looking a little untamed and frizzy while my big blue, round eyes were shinning with exhaustion. Knowing this was as good as it was gonna get today, I turned out the bathroom and made my way out of my small, but cozy apartment and dragged myself to the bus stop, hoping that today it would be on time for once so maybe I didn’t have to run across campus to get to my class of the morning. However, that thought was proven to only be wishful thinking as time rolled by, the bus pulling up twenty minutes after schedule. 

    Jogging to class, I pulled my thin grey jacket tighter around me, wishing I would’ve opted for something a little heavier. Michigan in February was unforgiving and harsh, leaving me stumbling to catch myself as not to slip on the icy cold ground under my feet as I jogged along to class. It would probably be a lot easier to navigate my footing if I weren’t jogging, but I wasn’t gonna risk being late and uncounted for. My professor, Mr. Jennings took the music appreciation class very seriously and would count you unattended for if you were even a minute late. Mumbling an eloquent stream of colorful words as I treaded on, my foot slips sending me flying face first.

    I come up short, not making it to the ground- thankfully- as hands gripping my forearms emits a humming current throughout my body. 

-not done