All creatures of this world have a job;
Either to destroy;
To dispose of what’s been destroyed;
Or to create;
And neither of those could work without the other;
And neither is more or less important than the other.
Good morning to you too. I see you’ve been up for a while, having time to think of that.
I woke up a minute ago.
Well, good for you. For once we get up at the same time and don’t bother each other.
So, what got you up this early?
Time. It passes, and I wake. I believe it’s called sleeping. You?
. . . Big day.
The bedsheets fell off, having been on the verge of falling for most of the night.
Well, that’s our cue. Up we go.
He got up and went into the empty kitchen. The sound of boiling water soon filled it.
I always hated drinking coffee before breakfast, but we're in a bit of a rush here.
So, when are we heading off? And where?
Very soon. And I don’t know. And I should’ve made this stronger. I’m really sleepy.
How many hours?
Three. Maybe three and a half.
He took a sip.
Y'know I always did find it weird. The dream world.
Oh, here we go. . .
It always seemed so. . . real. And it always seems to correlate to reality somehow. And we wake up having changed ourselves a bit. And it’s like that every time. Every time we change a little bit, not noticeably, but enough. And we still carry the feeling of the dreams to our daily lives, and we think about them, even when our brain tries to forget it. We force ourselves to remember, as if it has an importance.
And to us, it does.
Even when our brain tries to forget, sees it as memorial dump, we still hang on to it. Meaning. . .
Meaning they really do have an importance. They matter, and they should be kept, cherished. We should not think of them as matters of this world, and we shouldn’t let them affect our perception of it, but we need to give them some importance in our lives.
Because they give us chances we didn’t have in this life, and never will.
Do you think that, maybe. . . dreams are a reality of their own?
Maybe. If it soothes your feeling of being trapped in this reality, you might say yes.
. . . Do you ever dream?
. . .
. . . Yes.
-You’re late. – The voice said.
Five more minutes.
-You really should get up. – It persisted.
Just five more minutes.
-I’m not going to be here all morning to wake you. – The voice turned stern.
OH, JUST FIVE MINUTES!
-Five. . . minutes. – She managed to whisper.
-Fine. But I’m leaving, and you have to get up on your own in those five minutes. – The voice warned.
-. . . Okay?
That’d be the door. She’s gone.
I should probably get up. Eh, four more minutes.
. . . Three.
. . . Two.
. . . One.
. . . Maybe just five more.
I should get up. Shit.
Today’s the hunt.
Now I really have to get up.
Oh yes, bright sun. Just what my newly opened eyes need; something to stab them.
Breakfast? Perhaps. How late am I even?
Where are my clothes?