Chapter 0 "Dreaming"

"When do you think he'll wake up?" A voice rang on the blackened sea. A man, barely meeting the status quo to be called so, spoke to the sole another awake person on the boat. It was a small boat, fitting for the small group.

Waves rowed them whichever way and their destination was whatever destiny would bring them to.

"I don't know, but it's best to let him sleep for a while," the woman replied.

The man heard her, grimaced, then turned to look at the last of the three. "I wonder what's passing through his mind right now... his face isn't good," he noted the unbending frown of the sleeping man.

"Don't worry, he'll recover... and I didn't take you for one to be worried about others?" Her face stayed neutral as she raised a brow — eyes as if nothing could ever bother her.

"Shut up! It's only natural we worry about the Captain of our ship. He saved us! And don't come at me sparing words when you thank someone, you leech!" He pointed a finger at her irritatingly stoic face, teeth grinding. He really hadn't a shred of likeness for her.

The woman shrugged her shoulders at his yelling and turned to face the other side, face unchanging.

The man clicked his tongue and sat looking at the opposite side in rebuttal. "Mmf... you're so annoying..." he mumbled.

And so waves continued to row them in their carefreeness of a black-painted sky. Wind and sploshing were the only sounds for their ears. Occasional heavy huffs too.

The third member composing the last in the group rested uncomfortably on the wooden boat. Far too small for him, the two had long noticed.

They were only three together, but they had enough stories to keep crowds up for nights, comparable to relaters who tell tales for amusement or their living. Though, theirs weren't tales really.

It was night and the moonlight shone at the numerous injuries and bruises turned scars covering their bodies; Hard-fought trophies some would call them; Others say forever-standing reminders of a time.

"He's probably thinking the burden is for him and him only, and that isn't true at all," the man started suddenly. The woman shifted in her seat when she heard him but said not a word. He breathed, recalling it all. "No one was able to move a finger at that time. No one."

A few long seconds passed and were more than enough for them to paint a picture of the past in their minds.

Huff— An unknown feeling surged in her chest and she spoke before late: "Or it might only be that it was a long night... for all of us." She tried to dismiss melancholy at this time and hour.

Hearing some heavy breathing, she looked behind her, sighed, jumped up from her seat, and then approached the man in his sleep. She sat by his side and began to examine an innocent face now tainted. Words didn't come out for a while until: "Living is... harsh," she spoke, words unusually heavier for her standards.

It was all she could say as she changed her gaze up at the sky. She kept looking, wishing for something. But not a single star blinked back at her.

---

His eyes began twitching, face scrunching — he was entering Those Things again. This time he felt they would last for a long time... his nightmares.

The recallings of that time would cause him pain and throe forever, accumulating all throughout as trauma one couldn't recover from. But he had to mend himself as one again. Somehow. Piece by piece.

...

But how?

The boat shook more violently and water pellets gently landed on his face.

He was never a lucid dreamer. Until it happened.

Inertia caught him by the feet and his face hardened, heartbeat fastening...

Here we go.