I arrive home at around 7 to see that my parents have not come home from work yet. My parents own and work at the town pharmacy, so they have high expectations on how I do at school. They expect for me to become a doctor or any position of equivalent respect. Due to this I satisfy them by telling them I’ll become a doctor while keeping my true passion to myself.

“I’m home.”

I know there will be no response but it is a tradition from when someone was at home when I was younger. I usually don’t see much of them these days as they focus more on their jobs than me. I quickly go into my room to throw my bag onto my bed. After doing that, I head into the kitchen to cook dinner. Curry sounds nice for tonight.

I quickly finish dinner and get to work on my homework. It isn’t really difficult as the standards for schools seem to get lower and lower. I am able to finish all the work in less than an hour. I spend the rest of my time awake playing video games on my computer with some online friends that I have.

Honestly, I have more of a relationship with my online friends than with most of the people I know in person. They are a good group of people who are very supportive and funny. I really enjoy their company and we keep each other’s spirits up.

Around nine thirty I hear my parents enter the front door. They are arguing about something when they enter, probably something about work. I turn up the volume of the game to tune it out. At regular intervals, I turned down the volume to see if they had stopped arguing. After around 30 minutes, they stopped, and I turn down the volume as it was hurting my ears. Around 11 PM I get tired and decide to go to bed. I quickly take a shower, brush my teeth and head of to bed.

I slowly get into bed and think about what has happened today. An inherited house, lots of mysterious books and a portal to somewhere. These thoughts keep me up as I lay in bed. Slowly but surely though, I close my eyes and drift into the comfortable embrace of sleep.

As I sleep, I start to dream. It is odd though as I don’t see anything, all there is darkness. From the darkness there comes a voice.

“In the beginning, there is darkness, chaos. And from that darkness comes light.”

Suddenly, there is a little speck of white in the area around me, as if I were surrounded by a canvas.

“This light will grow and shrink. It does not control itself, it is controlled by the darkness.”

The little speck of white then flourishes, spreading quickly until there are only a few areas of darkness here and there.

“This light will try and protect itself from the darkness as it becomes aware of it. Some parts of the light will turn gray to avoid being taken over by the darkness while other parts will fight it.”

The canvas then goes into a continuous push as the light and dark grow at the expense of the other.

“But as time goes on, change occurs, others will appear.”

A blotch of red then stains the darkness. Even as the light and the darkness push at each other, the red stays unfazed, never growing and never shrinking.

“And as this new foe appears, others will formulate the same ideas and from the chaos comes order.”

Suddenly, a multitude of other colors appear. Blue, yellow and orange to name a few. These colors stain the tarp until I can’t see the light or the dark anymore.

“As these ideas take hold, old ones are forgotten to be only be found if the paint wears and falls. These new colors will then fight each other.”

The new colors then push and shove at each other, alas at a smaller less noticeable scale at what the light and dark was doing.

“Times will then appear when these colors will either be covered by more vibrant colors or when these colors mix.”

I see then that the red blotch has completely covered the area where the orange once was and that the blue and yellow have mixed.

“Once in a while, there will be an artist who can improve on the canvas.”

Looking down, I notice that there is now a brush in my hand and I start to involuntarily start to brush.

“This artist can improve the tarp, or they can make it worse than it once was. But there will always come another artist.”

Regaining control of my painting arm, I stop painting to see that I have made beautiful colors and ugly blotches of the paints I have used.

“Now wake and learn!”

With that, I awaken with a jolt.