I always thought pink was a pretty color,
it made me feel happy. I didn't really care that people thought it wasn't "manly enough" or whatever bullshit, it was calming to me.
Maybe that's why I liked dreaming so much.
Every night, I had the same dream: I'd find myself under a lone cherry blossom tree in the middle of a field that extends into the horizon. There's a worn dirt path wound into the grass. Could it have been formed from only me? It didn't really make sense though, because the dreams always started off with me under the tree and I never really moved. I guess I could if I wanted to, I just never tried.
It was always windy in my dreams, I could tell it should have been chilly as the air felt dry and the sky dark and cold. I'd always shiver even though by now I know it's not real, but it always felt genuine. I'm always dressed in dark wash denim and a slightly large cranberry colored hoodie, even though in real life I never wear color.
In my dreams, I sit and lean against the trunk peacefully to watch the scenery, although there isn't much of it. I can only see the outlines of trees in the distance because of the dark, yet a little lantern always hangs from a wooden post next to the path a couple of feet away. The breeze blows the petals right off their branches, setting them free so they can swirl in the air before settling at my feet. You can't exactly feel in dreams, but your brain tells you what it would feel like if you were awake, and it just kinda blends into the dream. This is how I know the petals are buttery and soft between my fingers, and the scent in the air is earthy and sweet.
I sit there for varying amounts of time, depending on my mood. If I had a good day, I notice that the dreams are shorter. If I had a bad day, which is more often than not, the dreams are longer. I guess it's my brain's way of repaying me for all the shit I have to deal with. But it gets lonely a lot, in real life and in my dreams. My tree is my escape, but it always feels like something is... missing, somehow.
the cold wouldn't be as big of a pain with someone else to keep me warm, the chilling wind I could easily block out whilst immersed in a meaningful conversation. I think these sad thoughts to myself for a while, and then I wake up, and I suffer through another day before I'm whisked off to a place with deserted paths and pink petals.
•
hi!! thank you so much for
reading the first chapter
of my first book!
I know it's not a lot, or the best,
but it will get better as the
plot develops I promise :)
It would mean the world to me
if you commented
or voted on this chapter
if you'd like to see more of this story!
-t xx
YOU ARE READING
lucid | phan
Fanfiction"he's just a figment of your imagination" "he's not real" dan is told these things all the time about the boy in his dreams, but dan knows he is real. he is out there, somewhere, waiting for him. and dan is determined to find him.
