I rub the sparkly dust off of my eyes, stretching myself across the mattress. I could feel the vibration of the bed, and I feel funny.
I open my eyes to the unreal scene before me. This doesn’t look like my room; the walls are painted white, but colored with flashing strobe lights that look like unnatural lightning. I see vines climbing up the tall walls, crawling to cover the ceiling. And now I see monkeys outside from my spot on the bed, through the huge window at one side of the room.
I still feel funny. Everything feels funny. I can even taste something funny. I cough, and out goes blue glitter from my system.
Up above my head, the vines separate, and they give me access to watch the running sky. Blue, indigo, red, purple, black. A star falls on my upper lip. I lick it off. I could taste something like the combination of sweet, sweet caramel and ink-spoiled blood.
I am sitting already when the hospital blanket wraps around me like a fierce snake, hinting to suffocate with a short twist. I’m afraid. Panicking, I struggle with fear as the blanket won’t drop dead, and instead curl around my alarmed body like it was my cocoon. The strobe lights stop flashing. They suddenly bring in the amber glow. I'm dying, so I lie back on my bed… and close my eyes.
Next thing I know when my eyelids get unscrewed is that I’m not at the same place. Fireflies dress me from head to toe in my pajama wear. I scream, but it’s too late. They dissolve into my skin. My scalp, my fingernails, my joints. I collapse to the ground on my knees, gripping the damp grass underneath me. It starts raining, and I shriek as the ice cold drops kiss the back of my neck and trail to my lips, freezing there like they want me to stop emitting noise. I press my palms onto the grass and tear it away from the wet soil. I dig my nails into the ground. I glow.
The glow is a yellow green. And it enters the earth. I think I’m going back to normal, but no. I just keep glowing brighter and brighter along with the world in my eyes. Everything, except for the sky, is now drenched in the color of starlight. It almost looks permanent.
I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired. But I’m also being driven by a power that won’t leave me no matter what I want. I cry tears of the evening stars. It’s still pouring.
I don’t know anything else. But I do know that I get sucked into the ground.
God help me. I’m falling, I’m falling, I’m faaAAAAAAAAaaalling. Butterflies try to catch me, but I’m too heavy for their stitched-up wings to carry. The sound of violins and thunderstorms flow into my ears. I let out another high-pitch shriek, feeling my stomach fold into the smallest origami to be ever made. It’s useless flailing my arms towards every direction when there’s nothing to stop gravity as it works.
But then, of course, I stop falling. The unexpected always happens.
Someone is drying my closed eyelids with their smooth hands, carrying me with the softest feathers ever. I whimper when I feel hard cement under me. Safety, does that mean?
I open my eyes. I’m introduced to the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. So shy. So violet. So bright. So wondrous. Those eyes tell the story of life. And maybe, if I could stare into it more, I could see the future in them. I want to see the future in them. I want to see my future in them.
I’m being too hopeful again. I’m wanting too much again. Because the angel steps back and shoots up to the sky. A few of its milky white feathers leave in its wake. Dreamy. It hurts. It hurts perniciously.
When I wake up, everything is normal. Too normal.
And I wish I was dreaming again instead.
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