Just a Dream

I sit up quickly forward in my bed with a loud gasp having just been violently woken from a dream. I push the covers I had cocooned myself in during the night down around my ankles out of pure annoyance as I try to catch my breath. I brush my hand through my messy and sweaty bedhead curls and check that clock on my bedside table, which reads 4:11AM. This charade is getting old. I roll my eyes, getting sick of this routine, as I bend my bare sticky legs up to my chest and wrap my arms tightly around them. I lay my head sideways over my knees and blink a few times trying to see clearly through my crusty eyelids.

I look out into the black night world through the thin crack between my drawn curtains. I envy the peaceful night outside my hotel room window. Everything seems quiet and nice, while I am awake and riddled by my own thoughts. This had become somewhat of a nightly ritual for me. I can’t actually remember the last time I got through a whole night of sleep without waking up from the dreams. I shake my head slightly at how restless my body has become, even though I desperately want to close my eyes and sleep once again.

I know the other four lads are all sleeping comfortably in their beds while I lay awake, and I envy them too. They all know this has become a problem fir ne, but they realize there is really nothing they can do to help me. There isn’t really anything anybody can do to help actually. They’re just dreams that keep haunting me.

I release my hands from around my legs and settle my head back down upon my soft pillows and stare up at the cold and dull ceiling for a while, trying to coax my body back into its slumber. This is a nightly attempt too, and unfortunately it usually doesn’t happen. My mind keeps replaying the images from my dream like a videotape tirelessly being rewound and watched over and over again. The dreams do not always start alike, but always seem to end in the same troubling manner. However they do keep the general characteristic of where I meet a girl, always the same, who embodies pure beauty from the inside and out.

In my dreams she is unlike anyone I had ever met before. She shows me things about the world. Things not even I, Harry Styles of the world’s biggest boy band, could ever learn on my own. She is completely captivating and makes my heart race with every second that passes by. Even when I’m awake and my eyes are open I can picture her bright and wide eyes peering into my soul, that large and joyous smile melting my heart, and that wondrous laugh filling my ears. Her personality could light up an entire room. Although I am famous, she is the candle that draws the attention of every onlooker in a room.

The problem is she’s all in my head, just a pure figment of my imagination. It’s for the best too I figure. This is because also every night, just as the image of her fills my body with happiness and delight, it always ends in broken and shattered pieces. Every night I lose her someway. She gets away from me and despite my better efforts, I can’t help her and she slips through my fingers. I don’t even know her name. Perhaps she doesn’t even have a name as she isn’t a true living person.

Sur I keep telling myself this, but I can’t help but devote all my time to thinking about these dreams. I awake terrified every time her eyes lose their life and wonder, leaving me alone in the world. I have to keep telling myself that she isn’t real, and that there is no reason for me to grief over losing her, as I hadn’t really lost anything but a girl I made up in my head. I know it’s pure madness for me to feel upset over it as there are literally thousands of real girls who absolutely adore me, which I am grateful for of course. I know I live a very blessed life, but every morning there is just something so heavy in my chest. It usually eases as the day draws, but every night it hits me all over again like a ton of bricks falling against me.

Although, it’s true I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me who believed she could really be out there somewhere, waiting for me to meet her, to save her. Maybe that is what makes me feel so upset when I wake up in terror every night.

Sometimes I find myself searching for her in the streets, in the crowds, wherever I go, I am always unknowingly searching for a girl who doesn’t even exist. I can’t help it though. Her face floods my head and the rest of my body. When I’m asleep everything feels so real. When I wake up like this I can still feel her warmth and her gentle touch against my body, often making me feel cold in my reality of desperate solitude.

I know I’ve been thinking about this for too long and let out a rough sigh before rolling over to my side. I shut my eyes tightly, attempting to forget, although I know it is unlikely. I rest my hands under my face and eventually I’m able to drift back off into a light sleep for another few hours.

Notes

Here is a new story that just sort of popped into my head! It didn't come at such a great time since finals are soon, but I felt like I had to write it. I hope you enjoy! :)

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