Luna Vox
(?)Community Member
Offline
- Report Post
- Posted: Fri, 01 Jun 2012 08:21:24 +0000
Username: Zoyce
Entry Title: The Dream
Word Count: 2,443 (without this text and without the ~~~ between the organized scenes)
Theme(s) Used: C & L (however it's a bit more C, seeing as... well you'll see.)
Prompts Used: 4, 23, ox2 and ox5
Feedback: For the love of all that is good and holy, yes! biggrin
Story:
People always said my head lingered in the clouds, that I lived in my own little world instead of real life. Yet, nobody truly ever told me that they thought I should be stowed away for the general safety. Rather, I was left alone to hum songs and skip along the road like a child. They pretended that if they just shielded their faces from me, I couldn’t hear the whispering behind my back. It was a wonder I could keep up my charade for so long, smiling so innocently and blankly, when truly all I felt was void and misunderstood. It was shame, they’d say, how a girl of my potential intelligence would retreat so severely into my childhood that I’d never grow out of it. How it seemed as if my apparent naïveté would eventually end in tragedy, but there was nothing they could do.
As for I, I turned away on the society of my growing town. I preferred the Dream to the wilted scenery so many people saw as normal. In the Dream, there was no pain. From the time I’d turned eight, it became my only home. In the Dream, there were no feuding parents or abusive brothers. There were no giggling, pretentious, overly-bubbly girls who poked fun at my eccentric disposition. It was my dream, and nobody could touch me. It was everywhere to be seen, and yet only I saw it. It was untarnished by those who chose to pass off my seclusion as insanity, and touched only by those who chose to accept it. And best of all, he came from the Dream.
He was the only thing that tainted the Dream, and only because I’d allow him to. He was so interesting the first time he’d manifested, as if he were some sort of broken Pandora’s Box. The first time he’d appeared in Dreamland, I was ten. For two years, I’d walked around in the place of my dreams, alone, as I was accustomed to. This was the first time I’d wished that I could show some other kid my world, if only I could find another ten year old who wasn’t a dense, immature b***h. The thought had just left my mind when I saw him. I immediately felt drawn to him, his mysterious disposition, as if he were trying to keep from flooding my kingdom with impurities. From then on, he became my best friend and my worst enemy, and everything in between. He’d speak to me when I returned to Dreamland each night, and his conversations always kept me in the whimsical, childish state that was so often criticized. When I was twelve, I began to realize that he aged accordingly to how I’d began to desire men, and then at thirteen, the Dream began to manifest outside of my nightly sleep cycles. And then he’d be with me whenever I was alone, whether or not I was awake.
And yet, I began to learn to despise him. I began to notice his imperfections, how he always had something to say, everything I’d tried to escape from. But he was not real; he was in my head, he was part of the Dream, and thus I could not leave. I began to grow distant from myself, escaping the manifestation of my mind that would appear to criticize me. He would lure me back to my dream with affection, just to ask me why I was a loner, a loser, a god-forsaken freak.
And so, my only friend became my worst enemy, driving myself to find solace in another source of healing, one that left scars.
~~~
The overwhelming power of the Dream lasted until I was seventeen. I’d received early acceptance to a college far on the other side of the country, and I’d began to accept new people in my life. I’d begun to enjoy the reality of life over what was now an abusive pleasure for my masochistic self. I met students bound for the same college in my town, and we bonded over coffee and textbooks. For once in my life, things began to look up, and I found myself smiling outside the Dream.
Yet, the Dream never faded. It would still come back at night, and I would walk through what was once a beautiful castle among the clouds. It was different now, as if Dreamland were a real place that needed tending. Weeds were overgrown, and the manor had grown grey and dingy. The skies were darker and air stale. And every so often, I would catch a glimpse of him in the window, gazing at me, staring forlornly at me. His soft grey eyes had grown hard since I first met him seven years ago. The Dream had stopped, waiting for me to live in it again, yet, I’d begun to fight back with my real future and my hatred of the man.
~~~
I woke up in a start, sweating through my clothes. Looking around, I saw the plain white institution-style walls that were my dorm room. It suffocated me, looming and threatening to overwhelm me. I walked up and flung open my windows, letting the breeze flow in, carrying with it the smell of lilies and roses. It filled the empty room, calming me. I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes, when it hit me.
I lived by the ocean, and there were no lilies or roses near the dormitory buildings. The last I’d experienced such a combination was in those fleeting moments that I’d wandered through what was once my castle. Not daring to accept it, I squeezed my eyes tighter.
“You don’t visit anymore. You don’t even bother to think about me. It hurts, Luna. We used to be so close, but now you pretend I don’t exist.” It made me shudder, the way the words rolled off his tongue in his deep voice. I could feel him staring at me, a sarcastic smirk on his face. I refused to believe it.
I shook my head. “You’re not real. You’re just part of the Dream, and I’ve left that. You can’t hurt me anymore, Dan. You’re not real. This is just another dream.” I curled up, holding my head between my knees. He made no sound. I sat there, trying to even my breathing, until I was sure he had gone. It was just another dream. I peeked.
My heart plunged, and the familiar tingling sensation returned in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was out of hatred or longing. He sat on the end of my bed, his arm casually draped over his knees. He gazed at me, not moving, as if he were a still apparition. His gold locks shimmered under the bright moon. I found myself staring into the face that taunted me for so long, remembering the condescending words that had fallen out of that mouth in that silky tone. I moved my arm to stare at him- he had to fake, he couldn’t be real. And yet, I noticed that he made creases in the covers where he sat. He smiled so slightly, as if he knew I was staring back at him behind my arms.
And then it hit me. He was here, in my room again. He’d manifested, and brought the Dream with him. He’d come to take my life back into my twisted world, to torture me again with his sole companionship. The rage burned through me, and I found myself opening my mouth. “You’re here. You’re really here again. Still, you’re nothing but a figment of my imagination; you’re a man who doesn’t exist. And yet, you speak as if you were real. The only real damn thing about you is how much you tortured me. I sunk into my dream world, and then you decided to show up. Why? Were you trying to stop me from leaving? Because you kept me here for seven years! You know, I should thank you. If it weren’t for your snide remarks and bipolar attitude, I might’ve felt that my ******* dreamland was worth not living my life. So thank you for being a sadistic b***h. Just disappear, and never come back. You’re my dream, so go away, damn! Go away, and stay away.” I was shouting now, tears spilling from my eyes. He stared at me, his smirk gone. For the first time ever, I found I couldn’t figure out what the expression on my own creation meant. And for the first time in years, I found vulnerability in him. The vulnerability that had prompted me to create the Dream now shone through his eyes.
The door opened. The girl from down the hall peered nervously from behind it, dressed in a thin white shirt. “Is everything okay, Luna? I heard some shouting and thought you might be…” She trailed off, and looked around my room. I shook my head, and waved her away. I was holding back my tears, and I felt if I spoke again, the tears wouldn’t stop. She bit her lip, and closed the door. I looked at the end of my bed. He was gone, but the creases where I had imagined him were still there. I choked back more tears and brushed away tears with my sleeve. I couldn’t help but crawl over to the crease and feel it, and pretend he was real.
I whispered to it. “I hate you. You shouldn’t do this to me. You shouldn’t be able to. I hate you.
~~~
After that night, I injected myself into the campus social life. Every night, I was at someone’s dorm until they had to carry me back to mine, completely s**t-faced. I’d lost control. I sought out the students who dealt drugs out of their room. I’d steal alcohol at the fraternity parties, and more than once I woke up smelling of vomit. I couldn’t remember anything that happened at night, and the stress of school deadlines distracted me from the appearance of Dan.
I couldn’t remember, and I was happy again. In my deteriorating state I no longer recognized the scars on my wrists, and they no longer served a reminder of what was. The Dream was just that now, a dream. Weeks passed in moments, night after nights of binge drinking becoming my “norm”. I was on a high, finally free from the ideas of my past, and nothing could stop me.
Nothing could stop me, except alcohol poisoning. I woke up in the emergency room the day after a St. Patrick’s Day themed party. The white rooms felt as suffocating as they did the night Dan had shown up. An I.V. had been plugged into my arm, and a monitor beeped steadily. Resisting the urge to stand up and rip it out of my arm, I looked around. I was completely alone, and completely sober. The memories flooded back.
“Now, what have you gone and done to yourself, you loser? Honestly, you say Dreamland was bad for you. Then you go out and decide to destroy whatever life you think you made for yourself.” Dan’s voice rang out from the bedside chair. I turned to face him, prepared to yell. Then I stopped. His eyes were soft again, but puffy and red. For a figment of my imagination, he seemed completely disheveled. In his hand, he held a rose and a lily.
I found myself speechless. I couldn’t function. He seemed so real. I managed a weak scowl, and tried to speak. My voice came in hoarse whispers. "How did you get here?”
He smiled. I knew what he’d say next. Dan had always criticized my headstrong thoughts on his existence. He looked at me, and simply said, “Only you should know that.” He shrugged, his face hardening again.
I stared back at him. “Why are you still here? I never wanted you here. You should be able to just go away then, right?” I could feel the tears again. He looked at me, shook his head, and stood up. He touched my face gently, and let his hand fall to rest on the pillow I laid on.
“I really do miss you, you know. Dreamland doesn’t survive without you. It used to just be us. And now it’s just me. It’s not that your shitty gardening skills could do anything, but it’s just that the place feeds off your energy. Don’t be stupid and just come back.” I looked at him, shocked by his words. I struggled for words, and instead tried to place my hand on his. But though his touch had been as solid as anything, my hand fell through his as if it were air. His lips twitched, and he walked out of the room. I felt alone again.
~~~
I walked through the streets. It was worse here, than the last time I’d visited. Vines had crawled across the door of the castle, and the weeds had destroyed all the flowers. I clutched the flowers Dan had left me last time. Each time I breathed, I felt like I was choking. I shuffled along the road, feeling a smile creep over my face.
The door opened for me when I reached it, and I walked inside. It seemed like a time capsule, and each specific detail of it was the same as it had been years ago. I walked along polished wood floors and up the giant staircase, reveling in the glory of my imagination. Memories flooded back of my ten year old self, running along the hallways with Dan. A laugh bubbled to my lips, and I danced across the halls, ecstatic to be back.
“Luna? You’re… you’re here. How? Why? I thought…” I whirled around, out of breath. Dan stood there, looking the same as he did in the hospital. He was stunned, as if it were an odd idea for a girl to want to visit her own dreamland.
“I’m here because I want to be, Dan. Because I believe. I dare to believe. I believe because you helped me to, Dan!” I danced over to him, and handed him the flowers. He took them slowly, still confused. I reached a hand out and grasped his, delighted that I could feel his touch now. A look of horror crept over his face, and I laughed again. “I lost you. And now I have one more chance. I’m not leaving the Dream again, no matter how sadistic you want to be. This is my dream!” I exclaimed giddily. He shook his head sadly and looked down at my hands.
I gripped the bottle of pills even tighter.
Entry Title: The Dream
Word Count: 2,443 (without this text and without the ~~~ between the organized scenes)
Theme(s) Used: C & L (however it's a bit more C, seeing as... well you'll see.)
Prompts Used: 4, 23, ox2 and ox5
Feedback: For the love of all that is good and holy, yes! biggrin
Story:
People always said my head lingered in the clouds, that I lived in my own little world instead of real life. Yet, nobody truly ever told me that they thought I should be stowed away for the general safety. Rather, I was left alone to hum songs and skip along the road like a child. They pretended that if they just shielded their faces from me, I couldn’t hear the whispering behind my back. It was a wonder I could keep up my charade for so long, smiling so innocently and blankly, when truly all I felt was void and misunderstood. It was shame, they’d say, how a girl of my potential intelligence would retreat so severely into my childhood that I’d never grow out of it. How it seemed as if my apparent naïveté would eventually end in tragedy, but there was nothing they could do.
As for I, I turned away on the society of my growing town. I preferred the Dream to the wilted scenery so many people saw as normal. In the Dream, there was no pain. From the time I’d turned eight, it became my only home. In the Dream, there were no feuding parents or abusive brothers. There were no giggling, pretentious, overly-bubbly girls who poked fun at my eccentric disposition. It was my dream, and nobody could touch me. It was everywhere to be seen, and yet only I saw it. It was untarnished by those who chose to pass off my seclusion as insanity, and touched only by those who chose to accept it. And best of all, he came from the Dream.
He was the only thing that tainted the Dream, and only because I’d allow him to. He was so interesting the first time he’d manifested, as if he were some sort of broken Pandora’s Box. The first time he’d appeared in Dreamland, I was ten. For two years, I’d walked around in the place of my dreams, alone, as I was accustomed to. This was the first time I’d wished that I could show some other kid my world, if only I could find another ten year old who wasn’t a dense, immature b***h. The thought had just left my mind when I saw him. I immediately felt drawn to him, his mysterious disposition, as if he were trying to keep from flooding my kingdom with impurities. From then on, he became my best friend and my worst enemy, and everything in between. He’d speak to me when I returned to Dreamland each night, and his conversations always kept me in the whimsical, childish state that was so often criticized. When I was twelve, I began to realize that he aged accordingly to how I’d began to desire men, and then at thirteen, the Dream began to manifest outside of my nightly sleep cycles. And then he’d be with me whenever I was alone, whether or not I was awake.
And yet, I began to learn to despise him. I began to notice his imperfections, how he always had something to say, everything I’d tried to escape from. But he was not real; he was in my head, he was part of the Dream, and thus I could not leave. I began to grow distant from myself, escaping the manifestation of my mind that would appear to criticize me. He would lure me back to my dream with affection, just to ask me why I was a loner, a loser, a god-forsaken freak.
And so, my only friend became my worst enemy, driving myself to find solace in another source of healing, one that left scars.
~~~
The overwhelming power of the Dream lasted until I was seventeen. I’d received early acceptance to a college far on the other side of the country, and I’d began to accept new people in my life. I’d begun to enjoy the reality of life over what was now an abusive pleasure for my masochistic self. I met students bound for the same college in my town, and we bonded over coffee and textbooks. For once in my life, things began to look up, and I found myself smiling outside the Dream.
Yet, the Dream never faded. It would still come back at night, and I would walk through what was once a beautiful castle among the clouds. It was different now, as if Dreamland were a real place that needed tending. Weeds were overgrown, and the manor had grown grey and dingy. The skies were darker and air stale. And every so often, I would catch a glimpse of him in the window, gazing at me, staring forlornly at me. His soft grey eyes had grown hard since I first met him seven years ago. The Dream had stopped, waiting for me to live in it again, yet, I’d begun to fight back with my real future and my hatred of the man.
~~~
I woke up in a start, sweating through my clothes. Looking around, I saw the plain white institution-style walls that were my dorm room. It suffocated me, looming and threatening to overwhelm me. I walked up and flung open my windows, letting the breeze flow in, carrying with it the smell of lilies and roses. It filled the empty room, calming me. I sat down on the bed and closed my eyes, when it hit me.
I lived by the ocean, and there were no lilies or roses near the dormitory buildings. The last I’d experienced such a combination was in those fleeting moments that I’d wandered through what was once my castle. Not daring to accept it, I squeezed my eyes tighter.
“You don’t visit anymore. You don’t even bother to think about me. It hurts, Luna. We used to be so close, but now you pretend I don’t exist.” It made me shudder, the way the words rolled off his tongue in his deep voice. I could feel him staring at me, a sarcastic smirk on his face. I refused to believe it.
I shook my head. “You’re not real. You’re just part of the Dream, and I’ve left that. You can’t hurt me anymore, Dan. You’re not real. This is just another dream.” I curled up, holding my head between my knees. He made no sound. I sat there, trying to even my breathing, until I was sure he had gone. It was just another dream. I peeked.
My heart plunged, and the familiar tingling sensation returned in my stomach. I couldn’t tell if it was out of hatred or longing. He sat on the end of my bed, his arm casually draped over his knees. He gazed at me, not moving, as if he were a still apparition. His gold locks shimmered under the bright moon. I found myself staring into the face that taunted me for so long, remembering the condescending words that had fallen out of that mouth in that silky tone. I moved my arm to stare at him- he had to fake, he couldn’t be real. And yet, I noticed that he made creases in the covers where he sat. He smiled so slightly, as if he knew I was staring back at him behind my arms.
And then it hit me. He was here, in my room again. He’d manifested, and brought the Dream with him. He’d come to take my life back into my twisted world, to torture me again with his sole companionship. The rage burned through me, and I found myself opening my mouth. “You’re here. You’re really here again. Still, you’re nothing but a figment of my imagination; you’re a man who doesn’t exist. And yet, you speak as if you were real. The only real damn thing about you is how much you tortured me. I sunk into my dream world, and then you decided to show up. Why? Were you trying to stop me from leaving? Because you kept me here for seven years! You know, I should thank you. If it weren’t for your snide remarks and bipolar attitude, I might’ve felt that my ******* dreamland was worth not living my life. So thank you for being a sadistic b***h. Just disappear, and never come back. You’re my dream, so go away, damn! Go away, and stay away.” I was shouting now, tears spilling from my eyes. He stared at me, his smirk gone. For the first time ever, I found I couldn’t figure out what the expression on my own creation meant. And for the first time in years, I found vulnerability in him. The vulnerability that had prompted me to create the Dream now shone through his eyes.
The door opened. The girl from down the hall peered nervously from behind it, dressed in a thin white shirt. “Is everything okay, Luna? I heard some shouting and thought you might be…” She trailed off, and looked around my room. I shook my head, and waved her away. I was holding back my tears, and I felt if I spoke again, the tears wouldn’t stop. She bit her lip, and closed the door. I looked at the end of my bed. He was gone, but the creases where I had imagined him were still there. I choked back more tears and brushed away tears with my sleeve. I couldn’t help but crawl over to the crease and feel it, and pretend he was real.
I whispered to it. “I hate you. You shouldn’t do this to me. You shouldn’t be able to. I hate you.
~~~
After that night, I injected myself into the campus social life. Every night, I was at someone’s dorm until they had to carry me back to mine, completely s**t-faced. I’d lost control. I sought out the students who dealt drugs out of their room. I’d steal alcohol at the fraternity parties, and more than once I woke up smelling of vomit. I couldn’t remember anything that happened at night, and the stress of school deadlines distracted me from the appearance of Dan.
I couldn’t remember, and I was happy again. In my deteriorating state I no longer recognized the scars on my wrists, and they no longer served a reminder of what was. The Dream was just that now, a dream. Weeks passed in moments, night after nights of binge drinking becoming my “norm”. I was on a high, finally free from the ideas of my past, and nothing could stop me.
Nothing could stop me, except alcohol poisoning. I woke up in the emergency room the day after a St. Patrick’s Day themed party. The white rooms felt as suffocating as they did the night Dan had shown up. An I.V. had been plugged into my arm, and a monitor beeped steadily. Resisting the urge to stand up and rip it out of my arm, I looked around. I was completely alone, and completely sober. The memories flooded back.
“Now, what have you gone and done to yourself, you loser? Honestly, you say Dreamland was bad for you. Then you go out and decide to destroy whatever life you think you made for yourself.” Dan’s voice rang out from the bedside chair. I turned to face him, prepared to yell. Then I stopped. His eyes were soft again, but puffy and red. For a figment of my imagination, he seemed completely disheveled. In his hand, he held a rose and a lily.
I found myself speechless. I couldn’t function. He seemed so real. I managed a weak scowl, and tried to speak. My voice came in hoarse whispers. "How did you get here?”
He smiled. I knew what he’d say next. Dan had always criticized my headstrong thoughts on his existence. He looked at me, and simply said, “Only you should know that.” He shrugged, his face hardening again.
I stared back at him. “Why are you still here? I never wanted you here. You should be able to just go away then, right?” I could feel the tears again. He looked at me, shook his head, and stood up. He touched my face gently, and let his hand fall to rest on the pillow I laid on.
“I really do miss you, you know. Dreamland doesn’t survive without you. It used to just be us. And now it’s just me. It’s not that your shitty gardening skills could do anything, but it’s just that the place feeds off your energy. Don’t be stupid and just come back.” I looked at him, shocked by his words. I struggled for words, and instead tried to place my hand on his. But though his touch had been as solid as anything, my hand fell through his as if it were air. His lips twitched, and he walked out of the room. I felt alone again.
~~~
I walked through the streets. It was worse here, than the last time I’d visited. Vines had crawled across the door of the castle, and the weeds had destroyed all the flowers. I clutched the flowers Dan had left me last time. Each time I breathed, I felt like I was choking. I shuffled along the road, feeling a smile creep over my face.
The door opened for me when I reached it, and I walked inside. It seemed like a time capsule, and each specific detail of it was the same as it had been years ago. I walked along polished wood floors and up the giant staircase, reveling in the glory of my imagination. Memories flooded back of my ten year old self, running along the hallways with Dan. A laugh bubbled to my lips, and I danced across the halls, ecstatic to be back.
“Luna? You’re… you’re here. How? Why? I thought…” I whirled around, out of breath. Dan stood there, looking the same as he did in the hospital. He was stunned, as if it were an odd idea for a girl to want to visit her own dreamland.
“I’m here because I want to be, Dan. Because I believe. I dare to believe. I believe because you helped me to, Dan!” I danced over to him, and handed him the flowers. He took them slowly, still confused. I reached a hand out and grasped his, delighted that I could feel his touch now. A look of horror crept over his face, and I laughed again. “I lost you. And now I have one more chance. I’m not leaving the Dream again, no matter how sadistic you want to be. This is my dream!” I exclaimed giddily. He shook his head sadly and looked down at my hands.
I gripped the bottle of pills even tighter.