Stories under the Velvet Sky

Chapter Thirty Three: What a Twist

I knew I was dreaming the moment my eyes opened up again, and I found myself sitting on the bed in my room. Everything was kind of white and foggy at the edges, fading out of view when I tried to look through my peripherals. My floor as a mess, with all my belongings scattered about, randomly shoved into piles, and my clothing emptied from my closet. My bed was the only thing in the room that wasn’t covered in all my stuff.

For having felt almost dead tired just moments ago, I felt oddly energetic now. I wanted to run around, screaming like a little girl, shoving my face full of candy, or just tasty food. Looking myself over, I noticed that all of my injuries were gone. There was no pain, just a sense of being very much alive and well. Another sign that I was dreaming.

The heater over in the corner that I always ignored, or forgot about, was crackling merrily as it burned the wood chips that had been put inside its’ chambers. There was enough that the room was almost uncomfortably warm. It bothered me.

I was alone. From what I could tell, there were no other signs of life about me. Before, that would not have bothered me. I would have found something to do that would occupy my time, sleep, make food, read...but now, the absence of other life made me feel empty. Though perhaps I had always felt that way, I just hadn’t noticed it before.

My right hand was wrapped up in the fabric that kept me from straining it, and my leg was similarly ensconced by wraps. Hadn’t those been taken off already? I couldn’t remember. I wasn’t able to think too clearly, anything critical or deep was just beyond my reach. Simple things. Simple thoughts.

The door opened, revealing a familiar smiling face. “Hey,” Adrian greeted, stepping inside, nimbly stepping over my belongings and over to me, “how’re you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat next to me.

It was familiar, comforting.

“Funky.” I replied, hugging him. “I feel like I’m dreaming.” I said, resting my head on his chest. Mmm, man pillow.

He chuckled, stroking my hair affectionately. “Because you are dreaming, sweetheart.” His hands felt cold, in comparison to the temperature of everything else.

This wasn’t going to turn into some kind of Inception thing, was it? And why did he keep calling me sweetheart?!

Still, it was nice, just lying there. “Then why are you here?” I asked him, peering up at him curiously. He usually only featured in my steamier dreams, not something casual where I was only resting in his arms. “And why are we in my room?” Why not somewhere else more exciting?

“Am I not supposed to be?” He teased, tickling my sides, making me giggle uncontrollably. “It’s your dream after all. I’m not the one who’s sleeping.” What was that supposed to mean?!

Was he only here because I wanted him to be? “I-I don’t know…” I trailed off, becoming lost in thought.

While I preoccupied myself with trying to think philosophically and failing, Adrian slid from the bed, going through my things; organizing them, putting them where they all belonged, occasionally holding something up to get a better look at it. He’d gotten through a third of my floor before I snapped out of my stupor.

I stared at him, bemused. “What are you doing?” He looked like he was cleaning up my room, but why?

He smiled, tossing a pillow that had been buried underneath my shirts at me. “Cleaning up. Messy minds have messy rooms.” He said, finishing the corner and moving on to the next set of things. “You’re not very organized, are you?”

Did it matter if I was? “So what if I’m not organized? I can find everything.” Most of the time…

“If you could find everything, I wouldn’t have to help you clean up so you could find what you were looking for.” His enchanting blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he spoke, as if he knew something I didn’t.