My day starts with me waking up, as always. I get out of bed, wishing I could go back to sleep. I get dressed in whatever mundane clothing I can find, then I head downstairs to the dull kitchen full of greyish things. One thing stands out, the bright yellow banana sitting idly in the corner between the fridge and the sink. I grab it, take my keys from the dining room table, and head for the door.
By the door, like always, is my parents' dog, Cerberus, who is always ready to attack...or sleep. Mostly sleep. He raises his head slightly, staring through me as I pass by, then plops it back down and closes his eyes, ready for his all-day nap. I wonder what he dreams about when he sleeps, but I don't think on it for too long. After all, he's only a dog, there's no way he or anyone else could dream the way I do.
Since I was a kid, I had been able to lucid dream, but only to one singular place where nothing was boring. It felt almost real when I went there, but every time I woke up I knew it wasn't. As real as it felt, it was too surreal to be anything other than something I'd made up in my head. I called the place Eden when I was younger, because it was what I'd imagine paradise to be. Now though, considering I'm seventeen and try not to seem extremely weird, I usually just refer to it as My Place.
Sometimes, parts of My Place leak out into the real world, almost like hallucinations, but I don't like to call them that. Really, they're just friends of mine coming to say 'Hello,' or bright flashes of color to remind me that another place exists besides the grey one I live in. The banana this morning, for instance, was a bit of My Place leaking into the real world. I know this because I have been completely color blind in the real world for my entire life.
Small pings of color have disturbed my real life since I can remember. It could have started with the dreams of My Place, or it could have always been there. I've never been quite sure.
I drive to school, noticing little disturbance in the grey I see every day. The pings have been more quiet lately, and I can't say that I mind. They're somewhat jarring, and it really wouldn't be good if I wrecked my car. I'd have to ride the bus, a glorified hell, once again. I'm really not up for that.
After I park, I get out of my car, a station wagon that sometimes pings red, but is otherwise bland. That's when the pain appears, a dull throb in my temple that grows steadily as I approach the school. I'm almost certain I'm having some sort of brain aneurysm, and will be dead before I even reach the school, when the pain stops. I look to my left, and there's a guy, obviously some sort of junkie type, smoking a cigarette filled with who-knows-what. The smoke pings purple as it wafts towards me.
Except, it doesn't just ping, it stays, never fading, and forms the shape of a man. Looking at him, I would have assumed he plays jazz, as he looked looked like Duke Ellington. His eyes were more deceitful than those of a jazz player, though. He looked me up and down before speaking.
"Son, why you starin'? Got nothin' better to do than look at the Smoke Man?" His voice is raspy, and reminds me of Louis Armstrong. I stutter as I reply back to him
"N-no sir, I was just heading to school. I was confused because it seems like you're quite real, yet no one can see you but me, and usually things like this only happen in my dreams. Are you real, or are you a new manifestation?" I'm prepared for strange things to happen, excited to see the new way My Place is forming at this point, convinced it's all a dream.
