I think it was somewhere around the time I noticed that I had woken up three times already, only to wake up again. That's probably when I began to wonder when the next great waking would occur. I wanted to lift the veil from my sleep-caked eyes - needed to. It wasn't a question of ifs or buts, but a question of how.
I needed to wake up so, so dreadfully.
When I realized in my dreaming, I didn't have her anymore, it seemed a corollary to not having her when I was 'awake'. But then I wondered if that was simply because of my dreams' proclivity to kill me from the inside out, and I really had her in real life. And so, I set to wake myself.
Tumbling around, stuck in the slow trickle of neuron-time and the lightning coursing through the synapses of my brain and my dream-reality. I need to wake up.
Just when it was all too much, when I was broken and alone, I saw reality's lens dilate and swallow what I had taken for granted; my dreams and dream friends.
It's not like they mattered. I mean, come on. It had only ever been me. There was no 'them'.
And then there was it and me.
