Take Me Back To When Dreams Were Nice

Dream One

A/N Ahhh! You're still here!? Well tysm, hope you enjoy! (Warning: The first maybe 5 chapters are really slow)

What was that?

Sakura caressed her eyes as she zoomed closely to the gnarled bark of the tree from a downward angle. Yes, it was her day where she was allowed to go out to a nearby town and rest while taking photos, but it wasn't like her mind was as peaceful as her setting.

In fact, it was reckless. All she could think about was that one ending to the dream she had the following night. Something was there. And she wasn't talking about the cute fluffy balls she would always look at, no no no.

But she was sure with all of her soul that she had seen him, or her... or... it... whatever it was, it was there and she wasn't going to let that slip.

But what bugged her more was that it was a mere dream right? That was it. So why was she fussing over such a thing? There was something, she knew, a name of some sort, when you have a repeating dream.

So, that made it normal, right?
Right?

But the day went by more gradually than the clip of her imagination active as she was asleep— AKA her dream, ever did, so she put a mental note to write it was one of the most irksome days ever on her non-existent diary. Then another to tell Shikamaru, an old friend from her school days who worked and specialized on deer, and well, making days drag just by saying it.

***

Sakura messily untied her hair, switched her clothes, and slumped into her bed to haul the covers over herself, then exhaled in a drained sigh. But the worries, unfortunately, didn't stop there.

Hmph, how the heck did people find something to hold a gentle, strong will steady in their heart when she didn't have time for it? It was impossible.

It was long hours of her shifting her legs and arms, trying to find a perfect position, yet knowing she was just sparring time until her eyes would close for the long sleep she would uphold.

Welp.

Two seconds staring at the wall across her bed, the next in this... dream again. Which made her question, if she knew she was dreaming, then didn't it count as a soon to be lucid one? Didn't that mean she could control what happened? Or, at least, wake up? None of it made any sense, and as she started to bang her forehead with her palm, she also questioned her trickling sanity.

She shoved her hands into her loose pant pockets and gazed upon the area in the utmost confusion. The flurries of fuzzy light seemed more...eccentric. She didn't know how to put it, but they all just had a more exciting feeling to them.

"Hello?" She called out, but something made her jolt back and try to scream even more. She didn't have a voice--or so she thought. That was when the emerald eye holder realized she never really did speak when she was in these dreams, it seemed kinda pointless.

Yet, even so, it felt so real. Like she had a sore throat and nothing but raspy, faint tones would come out as she tried yelling for any sign of her voice. Nothing.

She hooked her fingers around her other wrist and walked more cautiously. If she tried to jump, could she do it? If she tried to run, would it be possible?

Then she stopped. If it wasn't the sight that shocked her, then it was the fact she managed to stop so collectedly. The young woman felt like her heart had plunged to her stomach the moment she saw it. It was almost like that the small view of it would drop her to shaking pieces--and she didn't know why.

He was--the only ways to describe him...frightening, or maybe murderous... Why was she so afraid to take her eyes of his intent, monstrously glare? Or his spiky onyx hair that was ruffled and thrown out from his head? Or, his long, bony fingers that curled around behind his back and clawed at each other like battling spears?

It was just like the night before. Such a monstrosity, yet such a strange, wistful sight. How was it possible? It was almost as if there were two things, both combined, a suffering peer, and a frightening glare...

It hit her hard, and it felt as though there was a wind blasted through her. Just, looking at him, how did all of those thoughts come to be in the first place?

She started to trail back, worrying that all of the cliches would hit and she would stumble behind. But no, it was much worse than simply whimpering as the 'bad guy' approached. Rather, it felt that each step dragged against her will--like her shadow was pushing her own steps opposite of her.

And when she tried to speak, it was then she thought back to her attempt at it before. Nothing. Just a small whisper that refused to be heard. Yet, the boy staring back at her didn't do anything. He might as well have been a statue that was there just to scare the shit out of her.

But what really bothered her was that she knew she wasn't scared of those kinds of stuff, she watched horror movies and went to haunted houses all the time, and it never really took any spirit out of her.

And, to be honest, she wasn't scared of his look. It wasn't like he was sprouting black wings and growing horns or anything, rest assured.

Just a person, but he seemed more than that. When the girl tried to step forward, she was filled with terror that it rushed her forward faster than she ever imagined. It was like the quickest step, like she was just a quick thunderbolt placing its foot down on the earth for a millisecond before retreating.

And the boy in front of her just tilted his head. Oh no. He was 'alive'. That was when something hit her, as if an unopened lock finally found it's key.  She placed one foot down slightly toward him, and...

She ran. Bolted past him, and didn't care to crane her head.

Well, that was what she imagined. Instead, apparently the young man had managed to turn around and get grip of her shoulder, and now his vine like fingers crept around it. Her breaths came heavy. Wasn't this dream just supposed to be her wandering around? Could she even count it as a dream anymore, when all of this seemed like a nightmare?

And, she mentally smacked herself, because all she did was stand there like an idiot for what felt like centuries. She had to do it. Someone had to, and it seemed that someone just so happened to be the only one. She mustered all of her courage, than whipped around and tried to grab his wrist with her other hand.

But as soon as she tried, he was gone. So much for the grand heroic action. It was like he was only part of her imagination vanishing before her eyes, and to the utmost irony, he was. But, as her and her shaking breath looked down at where he once stood, she saw a small item.

It was a red ribbon, well, a tore one. It had a dull and monotonous scarlet tinge to it, and it obviously wasn't of the newest brand. She...had this ribbon. Well, half of the ribbon. It had always been special to her, one of her most treasured possessions, because she used to wear it all the time when she was little—at least when it was a whole.

And no matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn't put her finger on how it was to become ripped. Unexpectedly, and without even thinking, she punched herself in the stomach. No, it wasn't to wake her up, she honestly didn't care anymore. Rather to pay for all of her stupidity that she thought she had throughout the whole charade.

'Seriously?! What a huge cliche!' She shouted.

Well, tried to.