95 CHAPTER 1

1

Dreams, are the mind's playground, where it molds reality into its own whimsical creations.

Perhaps in your dreams, you find yourself pursued by creatures with too many limbs, or maybe you soar through the sky, defying gravity for a brief moment.

These nocturnal experiences, be they fantasies or nightmares, hold within them the promise of insight, a glimpse into what's yet to come or a reflection of what has already passed.

The intricate tapestry of human dreams has fascinated minds for eons, giving birth to scientific, religious, and philosophical theories.

These enigmatic realms echo with the resonance of significant events, using symbolism to paint the canvas of our emotions and personalities.

As you traverse these dreamscapes, you catch fragments of subconscious desires, like fragments of a puzzle waiting to be pieced together.

Long ago, life was seen as a dream bestowed upon mortals by the gods. Yet, as the sands of time have flowed, the mist of understanding has parted, revealing that dreams are mere fragments—glimpses of emotion, memory, or simple stimuli. Each dream, like a drop of water in an infinite ocean, ripples through the pool of time, a fleeting whisper that once vanished, is lost forever.

And yet, within these fleeting moments, vital messages about who you are and the path you tread in life may be hidden, waiting to be unraveled.

As you ponder the question, remember that dreams are not merely fleeting instances within the boundless continuum of time.

They hold the power to be more—a window into the soul's yearnings or a mirror reflecting the depths of your subconscious.

Good or bad, dream or nightmare, it can be anything you want.

So, when you close your eyes each night, venture into those realms with wonder, for they are not merely fragments.

They are a canvas, upon which your own mind paints the stories of existence, a realm where time itself bends and reality dances to the tune of your thoughts.

***

A soft, velvety voice shattered the silence, as a white cat inquired, its words almost akin to a professor posing a complex question after an exhaustive lecture. "Do you harbor a dream?"

The young boy, clutching a book, was momentarily startled. His azure irises exuded an otherworldly luminescence, akin to topaz aflame with an otherworldly light.

"...a dream?" he echoed, his voice a mere whisper, his gaze ascending to the translucent canopy overhead.

"Hmm... It feels like we've had a conversation like this before".

"Well, it doesn't hurt to recall what we talked about."

The feline's eyes gleamed like twin orbs of moonlight, and the invisible specter of a question mark seemed to linger above, substantial and unyielding.

Fingers tousled his hair, white as silk, as the query from the feline echoed within the corridors of his thoughts.

The peculiarity of a speaking cat aside, the familiarity in its demeanor tempered the peculiarity of the situation.

"I'm uncertain whether this could be deemed a dream," the boy began, his words meandering like a murmuring stream. "Yet, on occasion, I find myself ensnared within a specific reverie." As though unlocking a hidden chest, a narrative flowed from his lips, filling the spaces between them with a tale of wonder.

2

On a wintry night, the blanket of snow shrouded the town in a serene hush.

As the snow extended towards the northern fringes, where the forest loomed, the sky grew ominous, heralding an impending tempest. The visibility diminished to nearly nothingness, yet the confines of my home offered solace from the brewing storm.

Nestled above the hills, my abode was a quaint log cabin, its haven-like aura accentuated by the white pine sentinels guarding against the ferocious wind.

An aura of peculiarity clung to the air, for both my parents were home—a rarity.

Their presence emanated an unsettling vibe, perhaps a result of the weather's impending fury.

It was not typical of them to remain indoors, and their proximity felt like a muted disturbance in the atmosphere.

My thoughts swirled as I pondered the cause.

Were their tense expressions borne of the brewing storm, or was something else afoot?

The rarity of their united front concealed the tensions that usually simmered beneath the surface.

Despite this unease, a glimmer of contentment welled within me, grateful for their shared presence on this peculiar night.

Whispering my plea to the skies, "let this day never end," I wavered between sarcasm and ignorance of an impending revelation.

The pregnant silence hung in the air, a testament that the night held secrets yet unspoken.

"Ah, dinner will be ready soon," my mother's voice interjected, accompanied by a forced smile.

My gratitude welled up genuinely, as the delicious aroma filled the room.

A stew, her culinary specialty, had been prepared, and the anticipation for the concluding treat of apple pie only heightened my delight.

Yet, a shadow seemed to hang over our gathering, as each family member slouched, their energy sapped.

It appeared that they had slept off.

"he-he...hmm"

A soft, eerie laughter, reminiscent of a distant echo, broke the silence, and my gaze shifted to find my mother across from me, her smile unnervingly broad.

The thrill in her eyes was unmistakable.

It dawned on me—a sedative had been slipped into our meal.

—

As the haze enveloped me, the phrase "where am I?" reverberated within my mind, echoing countless times.

The darkness swallowed me whole, devoid of any point of reference, and I grappled with the loss of orientation.

An invisible force tugged at my essence, a sensation akin to perpetual drifting in the abyss.

My heart weighed heavy, as I struggled against the inexorable pull of the unknown.

Contemplations swirled, and in the midst of this uncertainty, a peculiar vanishing sensation swept over me.

A fleeting, transient dream—or perhaps reality—resurrected, fragments of memory intermingling with the obscurity. In this surreal moment, memories surged forth, fragments suspended within my slumber.

And then, a transition, as I found myself secured haphazardly within the confines of a family car.

Warmth cocooned me, and I glimpsed a snow-laden scene outside the car window, moonlight weaving through the clouds like silver threads.

A profound question loomed—was this mere dream or nostalgia cloaked in reality? The touch of cold against my fingers affirmed the tangibility of this moment.

My eyes scanned the interior, absorbing the tableau before me.

My parents occupied the front seats, leading their lives oblivious to my presence. My efforts to be heard faltered, akin to a voice lost in the wind. A dream within a dream, ensnaring me in a perpetual cycle, a sensation of waking eluding me.

A murmur emerged, a muffled exchange between a young couple in the driver's seat—my parents in a younger form.

Beside them, a young girl gazed out of the window. A puzzle piece missing, her features remained a blurry tableau.

Her lips moved, words transpiring in a conversation beyond my reach, eclipsed by the hum of the car engine and the cocooning warmth of the interior. The world felt like a blur of sensations—acceleration, weightlessness, and the resonance of tires screeching against the road.

Suddenly, gravity released its grip, weightlessness seizing me as the car spiraled out of control.

Unbeknownst to me, the edge of a precipice approached—the darkness of an accident and the descent down the hill awaited.