Dreamscape: A Journey Through the Subconscious

Dreamscape: A Journey Through the Subconscious

Chapter I: The Dreamscape

Together, we constructed a world made only for us.

I remember when this whole thing started—the night we came up with the idea, the moment we connected our subconsciousness and let our restless thoughts guide us to create something extraordinary. Each night, we fell asleep to weave our dream, conjuring a world from the depths of our imaginations.

Night after night, we returned to this ever-changing sanctuary, a testament to our intertwined souls. In our own heads, our thoughts paved the way to every exquisite piece. We started slowly, but a few nights later, we made immaculate progress. It was nothing like our other world; it was a beautiful fiction woven together by us and no one else but us. It was ours. It was yours, and it was mine.

I remember when we got into an argument because you wanted the whole atmosphere to be variegated pink, and you said that since it was a dream, we were not obligated to follow any rules. And I gladly complied, painting the skies and sands in shades of our shared whimsy.

I remember the endless conversations we had during our sleep—where we wanted to place the main stairway, the colour of the doors, the stranded islands, the endless clouds, the long unpaved roads, and the vibrant colours of the flowers. We were the two prolific architects, carefully planning the unique design of every inch of the space and making it as special as we could.

'The Dreamscape'; the name we chose for it. The place where the sky shimmered with hues of rose and lavender, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything. The air was always filled with a soft, melodious hum, like distant chimes in a gentle breeze. We had this open world in our inventive minds, endless possibilities, and complete chaos.

But now, the hues have started to fade, and the once-vibrant dreamscape trembles at the edges. The floral scent that once filled the air is now a faint, lingering trace. The cracks we ignored are widening, and the paths we walked are becoming obscured, covered in a fine, silvery mist.

It was ours. It was yours, and it was mine.

Now, it is just a memory, a lingering dream, whispering the echoes of what we once built together.

Chapter II: The First Dream

Since you’ve been gone, I swore I’d never return to the dreamscape alone, fearing the echoes of our past. Fearing what I might come across, or if I should ever go back alone as I was too broken and fragile to have another disappointment.

I tried to fight my sleepless nights, my wandering thoughts, and my broken soul all at once. I tried doing everything I could to stay awake. But it was not easy to breathe in these hot summer nights, and my gloomy apartment is doused in the poignant scent of cigarettes and alcohol.

I tried to stay awake for as long as I could just so I wouldn't go there again, but my body is fatigued, and eventually, I had to give in and shut my wistful eyes.

I open my eyes to find myself in the dreamscape. The air feels lighter, the colours are vividly bright. It looks the same from where I am standing, at the main staircase looking up towards the wooden ten-foot gates. I take small steps up the stairs, remembering the last time we were holding hands on these very exact stairs, reminiscing about our time together, taking one step forward and two steps backward. I try to pull myself together to reach the front gate.

Once I get closer to the gate, I start hearing heavy rain pouring nonstop on the other side. I take a deep breath and push the door open.

I freeze.

I cannot believe what my eyes are seeing, how different this place looks than what it used to. Where once vibrant pink skies stretched infinitely, there now loomed an ominous pitch-black void. The floral smell is no longer there. The warmth in the dreamscape is gone, and it is freezing cold. What once was the dream we always wanted has turned into this dark, indistinguishable place.

The rain has flooded everything we built, tearing down our home with relentless force, the water murky and filled with fragments of our memories. Overwhelmed, I hear your laughter, your words, replaying in an endless, bittersweet loop. I do not know what to feel; I feel trapped in a world you left me in. I feel sad, I feel guilt, and I feel empty.

I come across a pack of cigarettes, your favourite, floating around in this sea of emotions. I remember how obsessed we both were with those, how we would not make a step out of our beds in the morning if we did not light one up. I can also see all the letters we wrote to each other being washed away by the water as if they had no significance. I can barely take a glance to see our signatures at the bottom of each letter being wiped away.

I scream.

And I pray that this worthless night ends soon, as I can no longer live here without you. It is too much for me to handle at once, and it is painful beyond description.

I come across a piece of wood from our home floating around, wiggling through the waves. I manage to get a hold of it. I try to get on it, but I lose my balance and fall. I try again, and the water pushes me down. I try one more time, and this time I finally get on it, but I... but I do not want to row anywhere, I want to lay down, I want it to take me wherever it wants. Que Sera Sera. It takes me through waves and waves of what feels like an infinite ocean. As I struggle to stay above it with the waves crashing through me, it finally comes to a stop. I lift my head up to see where we ended up. I smile. It stopped at a spot we called Sunset; we named it that way because that's the name of the place where we first met in the real world. My smile then fades away. I feel strangulated. I want this to stop.

The Sunset Island was always special to us, and I am surprised to see how much of it is left unchanged despite the insane amount of water covering every other surface in the dreamscape. I lay myself on the gritty, moist sand and look up at the dark sky, and I give in to my sadness. I must have cried too hard that I exhausted myself and fell asleep on the Sunset Island by your favourite palm tree. I wake up to the smell of my dusty apartment, the sun making its way through my half-open window, and a heaviness on my chest that I have never felt before.

Chapter III: Awakening

I lie there, staring at the ceiling, the memories of the dreamscape still fresh in my mind.

Days pass, but the dreamscape continues to haunt me. Each night, despite my efforts to stay awake, I find myself back there, facing the remnants of our shared dreams. The rain continues to pour, and the once-vibrant colours remain muted and dark.

Resolved to face my fears, I plunge headfirst into the dreamscape one fateful night. As I fall asleep, I brace myself for the cold and the darkness. When I open my eyes, I find myself standing in the same spot as before, but this time, I am determined to explore further.

I wander through the flooded landscape, the water lapping at my ankles. Every step is heavy, but I push forward. In the distance, I see a faint light flickering. I follow it, hoping it might lead me to something—anything—that could help me understand why the dreamscape has changed so drastically.

As I approach the light, I realize it's coming from a small lantern hanging on a tree. The tree stands on a small patch of dry land, a rare sight in this flooded world. Carved into the trunk are initials: yours and mine, encircled by a heart. I reach out to touch the carving, memories flooding back.

I sit beneath the tree, the lantern casting a warm glow around me. I close my eyes and listen to the rain, trying to remember the happier times. Slowly, the memories come back—our laughter, our shared dreams, and the plans we made. Tears stream down my face, mixing with the rain.

As I sit there, I realize that the dreamscape is a reflection of my own heart. The darkness, the flooding—it all represents my grief and my unresolved emotions. I need to find a way to come to terms with our past, to find closure.

The next night, I return to the dreamscape with a new resolve. I start to rebuild, piece by piece. I collect fragments of our joyful memories, adorning the tree's branches like precious keepsakes, letting the lantern light them up. I find more pieces of wood and build a small shelter, a place where I can rest and reflect.

Days turn into weeks, and slowly, the dreamscape begins to change. The rain lessens, the waters recede. Colours start to return, albeit slowly. I continue my nightly journeys, rebuilding and restoring what I can, letting go of what I can't.

One night, as I walk through the now-familiar paths, I come across a figure in the distance. It's you. Or at least, a version of you—a figment of my imagination. We stand there, looking at each other, the silence between us filled with unspoken words.

"I miss you," I whisper.

The figure smiles, a bittersweet expression on their face. "I know," they reply. "But it's time to let go."

I nod, tears in my eyes. "I know."

As the figure fades, I feel a weight lift off my chest. The dreamscape is no longer a place of despair, but a place of healing. I wake up, feeling lighter than I have in months.

The journey isn't over, but I know I'm on the right path. Every night, I revisit the dreamscape, not to dwell on sorrow but to sow seeds for a hopeful future —a future where I can cherish our memories without being haunted by them. And as the dreamscape flourishes, so does my heart.

Chapter IV: Renewal

As the dreamscape begins to flourish once more, I feel a new sense of purpose taking root within me. Each night, I return not out of obligation or grief, but with a genuine desire to heal and transform.

I begin by restoring places that held the most meaning for us. The once-darkened main staircase now gleams, a luminous path leading to new beginnings, leading to new horizons. I carefully plant flowers along its edges, their colours vibrant and alive, a testament to our shared dreams and the beauty we once envisioned.

I wandered through the dreamscape, the changes I had wrought slowly beginning to take shape. The rain had lessened, the colours starting to creep back into the world I had created with you. Despite the progress, there was still an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loss. Every night I returned, hoping for a breakthrough, yet feeling perpetually adrift.

One night, as I stood by the tree with our initials, I noticed a figure in the distance. They moved with a grace and calmness that felt out of place in this chaotic landscape. As they approached, I could see their features more clearly – soft, almost ethereal, with a warm, knowing smile.

"Hello," they said, their voice a soothing melody that cut through the lingering despair. "I've been waiting for you."

"Who are you?" I asked, feeling both wary and curious.

"I am a part of you," they replied, "a reflection of your mind, here to guide you through this journey of healing."

I looked at them, feeling a strange sense of familiarity. "Why now?"

"Because you are ready to face what lies ahead," they said. "You have begun the process of healing, but there is more to understand, more to let go."

We began to walk together, the figure leading me through the flooded dreamscape. With each step, they shared wisdom that resonated deeply within me.

"Grief isn't a foe to conquer but a shadow to coexist with," they said as we passed a patch of land where vibrant flowers once bloomed. "It's a part of your story, but it doesn't define you."

We stopped at the edge of a vast ocean, the water reflecting the dark sky. "You have been focusing on what you've lost," the guide said, "but there is also so much you still have – memories, lessons, and love."

I looked out over the water, feeling the weight of their words. "How do I move forward?"

"By accepting the past and embracing the present," they replied. "It's a process, and it takes time. But each step you take in this dreamscape is a step towards healing."

The guide then led me to a small, dilapidated structure – the remains of our first creation in this world. "Rebuild," they said simply. "Not as it was, but as it can be. Use what you've learned, and let the new growth reflect your journey."

I spent the night working alongside the guide, rebuilding the structure. As we worked, I felt a sense of purpose and connection that had been missing for so long. The walls we erected were not just physical barriers, but symbols of my resilience and growth.

In the waking world, I find myself changing too. I reach out to old friends, rekindle forgotten passions, and discover new interests. The heaviness on my chest begins to lift, replaced by a lightness I thought I'd never feel again.

One night, I create a sanctuary in the dreamscape, a place dedicated to you. It is a garden filled with all the things you loved—roses, lavender, that moist pack of cigarettes, fragments of our handwritten letters and a bench where we can sit and talk. This faraway garden becomes my refuge, a place where I can remember you with joy and not just sorrow.

As I sit in our garden, the dreamscape around me bursts into bloom. The colours return, the rain ceases, and the sun breaks through the clouds. I feel a profound sense of peace and a renewed connection to the world we built together.

I wake up with a smile, the sun streaming through my window, filling my apartment with warmth. Though the journey continues, I now stride confidently along the right path. Each night, I return to the dreamscape, not to dwell on the past, but to build a future where our memories are cherished, and my heart is free to heal and grow.

The dreamscape flourishes, and so do I.

Chapter V: Confrontation and Acceptance

Each night in the dreamscape brought new challenges and revelations. With the guide by my side, I ventured into the deepest, darkest parts of the world we had built together, facing memories I had long avoided.

One night, the guide led me to a cavern shrouded in shadows. "This is where your deepest fears reside," they said. "To heal, you must confront them."

I hesitated at the cavern's maw, fear clawing at my heart. But the guide's presence gave me the strength to step inside. As we walked deeper, the shadows seemed to come alive, whispering doubts and regrets.

"Why did you leave?" I shouted into the darkness, the question echoing back to me. "Why did you abandon me in this world we created together?"

The shadows shifted, revealing scenes from our past – moments of joy, but also the pain and misunderstandings that led to our separation. I watched as we argued, our words cutting deeper than we realized at the time.

The guide's voice broke through the tumult. "You must forgive – both yourself and them. Holding onto this pain only prolongs your suffering."

Tears streamed down my face as I confronted these memories. "I don't know if I can," I whispered.

"You can," the guide replied gently. "Forgiveness is not about forgetting, but about freeing yourself from the burden of anger and regret."

As I faced each memory, I felt a shift within me. The shadows began to recede, replaced by a soft, healing light. I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of release.

We emerged from the cavern, and the dreamscape around us seemed brighter, more vibrant. "You've taken an important step," the guide said. "But remember, healing is a journey. Be patient with yourself."

With a nod, a flicker of hope ignited within me. Each night in the dreamscape, I continued to rebuild and restore, not just the world we created, but also my own heart. The guide was always there, a constant source of support and wisdom.

In time, the dreamscape flourished once more, reflecting the growth and healing within me. The flowers bloomed, the colours returned, and the rain became a gentle, nourishing presence rather than a destructive force.

One night, as I walked through the dreamscape, I came across the guide standing by the tree with our initials. "You've come a long way," they said, their voice filled with pride.

"Thank you," I replied, feeling a deep sense of gratitude.
"I couldn't have done it without you."

The guide smiled. "Remember, I am a part of you. The strength and wisdom you found here are within you always."

As I woke up the next morning, the sun shining brightly through my window, I felt a profound sense of peace. The dreamscape had become a place of healing and growth, a reflection of the journey I had undertaken.

And as the days turned into weeks and months, I continued to visit the dreamscape, not to dwell on the past, but to build a future – one where I could cherish our memories without being haunted by them, where I could find joy and hope once more.

Chapter VI: Transformation

With the dreamscape flourishing and my heart growing lighter, I feel ready to embrace the next phase of my journey. The guide's presence has been a beacon of wisdom and comfort, but now it's time for me to step forward with newfound strength and resilience.

What was once a landscape of sorrow now flourishes as a canvas for transformation. Each night, I explore new areas, uncovering hidden corners filled with potential and beauty. The vibrant colours and blooming flowers reflect the changes within me.

One night, the guide appears again, their smile as warm as ever. "You have done well," they say. "But now, it's time to face new challenges and embrace the unknown."

We walk together to the edge of a vast forest, the trees tall and imposing. "This forest represents your fears and uncertainties," the guide explains. "To move forward, you must navigate through it and find the strength within yourself."

With a deep breath, I step into the forest. Though the path winds through darkness, my steps are fuelled by newfound determination. As I venture deeper, I encounter obstacles that test my resolve—branches that block my way, shadows that whisper doubts.

But with each step, I grow stronger. The guide's words echo in my mind, reminding me of my resilience and the lessons I've learned. I push through the obstacles, finding new paths and discovering hidden clearings filled with light and hope.

In one clearing, I find a small pool of water, its surface reflecting the sky. As I gaze into it, I see my reflection—a person transformed by the journey, marked by both scars and strength. I kneel by the pool, feeling a profound sense of acceptance and gratitude.

The journey through the forest continues, and I encounter new challenges and moments of growth. I find companions along the way—figments of my imagination, representing different aspects of myself. Together, we navigate the forest, supporting each other and learning from our experiences.

Eventually, we reach the heart of the forest, a place of unparalleled beauty and tranquility. In this tranquil heart of the forest, I plant a tree, its roots embodying my journey towards new beginnings. As the tree takes root, I feel a deep connection to the dreamscape and to myself.

When I wake up, I feel a sense of accomplishment and empowerment. The sun shines brightly through my window, illuminating my apartment with a warm, golden light. I am no longer defined by my grief, but by my resilience and the journey I have undertaken.

The dreamscape continues to evolve, reflecting my ongoing transformation. Each night, I return to it with a sense of purpose and excitement, ready to face new challenges and embrace the unknown. The dreamscape is no longer a place of sorrow, but a testament to my strength and the endless possibilities that lie ahead.

And as the dreamscape flourishes, so do I.

Chapter VII: Reconciliation

The transformation had been profound, but a sense of incompletion lingered. Each night, as I returned to the now vibrant dreamscape, there was a subtle feeling of unfinished business, a whisper in the wind urging me to seek deeper understanding and closure.

One night, as I wandered through the blooming fields, I found myself drawn to a familiar path, one I had not walked since the dreamscape's darker days. The path led to a secluded grove, a place we had once called the Heart of Memories. It was here that we had stored our most precious moments, encapsulated in delicate glass orbs that hung from the branches of ancient, twisted trees.

I approached the grove with a mix of trepidation and anticipation. The orbs glowed softly, each containing a snippet of our shared history. As I reached out to touch one, a sense of warmth enveloped me, and the orb projected a scene from our past – a moment of pure joy, untainted by the sorrows that would later come.

The guide appeared beside me, their presence as reassuring as ever. "You have come far," they said, their voice gentle. "But true reconciliation requires facing the past fully, understanding it, and finding peace with it."

I nodded, understanding that this journey was necessary. Together, we moved from orb to orb, reliving moments of laughter, love, and even pain. Each memory was a thread in the intricate tapestry of our relationship, and each thread needed to be acknowledged and understood.

One memory stood out among the rest – the night of our final argument. It was a night of harsh words and broken dreams, the night that led to our separation in both worlds. As the scene played out, I felt the weight of unresolved guilt and sorrow.

"I should have listened," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I should have understood."

The guide placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Reconciliation is not about blame, but about understanding. Forgive yourself for the mistakes made in the heat of the moment. Accept that both of you were doing your best with the knowledge you had."

I took a deep breath, letting the guide's words sink in. As the memory faded, I felt a shift within me – a release of the guilt that had anchored me to the past.

We continued through the grove, and with each memory revisited, I found myself forgiving more – forgiving you, forgiving myself, and accepting the imperfections of our journey. The weight on my heart lightened, replaced by a profound sense of peace.

At the centre of the grove stood a large, ancient tree – the Tree of Remembrance. Its branches were adorned with orbs that glowed brighter than the rest, containing the core of our shared experiences. The guide gestured for me to place my hand on the tree.

As I did, a wave of emotions washed over me. I felt your presence more strongly than ever, and for the first time since your departure, it was not tinged with pain. It was a presence of acceptance, of understanding, and of love.

"I miss you," I whispered to the tree, to you, to the memories that had shaped me.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying a soft, familiar scent. It was as if the dreamscape itself acknowledged my journey, my growth, and my reconciliation.

The guide smiled. "You have done well. Remember, reconciliation is a journey, not a destination. You have taken the crucial steps to mend your heart and to honour your past."

As I woke up the next morning, the sun shining through my window felt different – warmer, more comforting. I knew that the dreamscape, like my heart, had been transformed through reconciliation. The path ahead was no longer shrouded in shadows of regret but illuminated by the light of understanding and acceptance.

And as I continued my nightly visits to the dreamscape, I found that each step was lighter, each memory a cherished piece of my history, and each moment a testament to the enduring strength of my heart and spirit.

Chapter VIII: Rebirth

With the reconciliation of my past, the dreamscape flourished in ways I could not have imagined. Colours I had never seen before painted the skies, and new life sprouted from every corner of this world we had built together. There was a palpable sense of renewal, a vibrant energy that permeated every inch of the landscape.

One night, as I wandered through a newly formed meadow filled with flowers of every conceivable hue, I felt a sense of anticipation. The dreamscape had become a reflection of my inner growth, and it seemed to be urging me towards something new, something significant.

I found myself drawn to a hill that overlooked the entire dreamscape. As I climbed, the air became clearer, and the stars above seemed to shine brighter. At the summit, I discovered a lone tree – young and full of life, its branches stretching towards the heavens. This was the Tree of Rebirth, a symbol of new beginnings and the continuous cycle of growth.

The guide appeared beside me, their presence comforting yet filled with a sense of finality. "This is where you plant the seeds of your future," they said, gesturing towards the base of the tree. "It is time to let go of the past completely and embrace what lies ahead."

I knelt by the tree and, with the guide's encouragement, planted seeds I had gathered from my journey through the dreamscape. Each seed represented a lesson learned, a memory cherished, and a hope for the future. As I covered the seeds with soil, a wave of emotions washed over me – gratitude, hope, and a deep sense of peace.

The guide spoke again, their voice filled with wisdom. "The dreamscape is a reflection of your heart and soul. By nurturing these seeds, you nurture your own growth and potential. Remember, rebirth is not an end but a beginning."

I looked up at the guide, their form shimmering in the starlight. "Thank you," I said, my voice filled with sincerity. "For everything."

The guide nodded, their smile warm and reassuring. "You have always had the strength within you. It was merely a matter of recognizing it and allowing yourself to grow."

As I stood up, the dreamscape around me seemed to come alive with new energy. The seeds I had planted began to sprout, their growth rapid and vigorous. Flowers of every kind bloomed, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of renewal. The dreamscape was not just a place of memory anymore; it was a place of endless possibilities.

I woke up with a sense of exhilaration, the morning sun casting a golden glow over my room. The world felt different, as if I was seeing it through new eyes. The heaviness that had once burdened me was gone, replaced by a lightness of being and a readiness to embrace whatever lay ahead.

In the days that followed, I found myself more engaged with the world around me. I reconnected with old friends, explored new interests, and allowed myself to dream once more. The transformation within me was mirrored in my waking life, and I felt a deep sense of alignment with my true self.

Each night, I returned to the dreamscape, now a place of rebirth and renewal. I continued to nurture the seeds I had planted, watching them grow and flourish. The dreamscape had become a sanctuary of hope and potential, a testament to my journey and my endless capacity for growth.

And as I stood on the hill each night, looking out over the vibrant world I had helped create, I knew that the dreamscape – and my heart – would continue to thrive, embracing the endless possibilities of each new day.

Chapter IX: Reflection

With the dreamscape in full bloom and my heart lightened by the journey of transformation and rebirth, a new sense of purpose filled my days. Each visit to the dreamscape felt like a reunion with a beloved friend, a place where my inner growth mirrored the flourishing landscape.

One night, as I wandered through the dreamscape, I found myself drawn to a quiet, reflective pool of water nestled in a serene grove. The surface of the pool was perfectly still, reflecting the stars above and the vibrant colours of the dreamscape around it. I approached the pool and knelt by its edge, gazing into the water.

The guide appeared beside me once more, their presence a familiar and comforting constant. "This pool is the Mirror of Reflection," they said. "It shows not just the dreamscape, but your own soul."

I looked into the pool and saw my reflection staring back at me. But it was not just a physical reflection – it was a reflection of my journey; of the person I had become. I saw strength in my eyes, resilience in my posture, and a sense of peace that had eluded me for so long.

"Take a moment to reflect on your journey," the guide said softly. "Acknowledge the hardships, celebrate the victories, and embrace the person you have become."

As I gazed into the pool, memories of my journey through the dreamscape flowed through my mind. The initial creation of the dreamscape, the joy and love we shared, the heart-wrenching loss, the transformation, and the rebirth. Each chapter of my journey was a testament to my resilience and my capacity for growth.

"I have come so far," I whispered, feeling a profound sense of gratitude. "I have faced my fears, healed my heart, and found a way to move forward."

The guide nodded; their smile filled with pride. "You have embraced your journey with courage and grace. Remember, the path of self-discovery and healing is ongoing. Continue to nurture your heart and soul, and the dreamscape will continue to flourish."

I reached into the pool and touched the water, feeling its cool, soothing touch. As the ripples spread across the surface, I saw not just my reflection, but the reflections of the memories and lessons I had gathered along the way. Each ripple was a reminder of my journey, a testament to my strength and resilience.

The guide placed a hand on my shoulder. "You are ready to face the world with renewed purpose and clarity. Trust in yourself and the path you have chosen."

As I stood up, I felt a sense of completion and readiness. The dreamscape, with its vibrant colours and boundless potential, was a reflection of my own inner world. I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I had the strength and wisdom to navigate them.

I woke up the next morning, the sun casting a warm glow over my room. The world outside my window felt alive with possibilities, and I felt a deep connection to my own journey and to the dreamscape that had mirrored it.

In the days that followed, I continued to reflect on my journey, finding new depths of understanding and appreciation for the path I had walked. I shared my experiences with friends, drawing strength from their support and encouragement. The journey of self-discovery and healing was ongoing, but I faced it with confidence and a sense of purpose.

Each night, I returned to the dreamscape, not as a place of escape, but as a sanctuary of reflection and growth. The dreamscape had become a part of me, a living testament to my journey and my capacity for endless transformation.

Chapter X: New Horizons

The dreamscape had become a sanctuary, a place of reflection and growth, but it also held the promise of new adventures and endless possibilities. Each night, as I returned to this vibrant world, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation for the future.

One night, as I stood on the hill overlooking the dreamscape, the guide appeared beside me. Their presence was as comforting as ever, but there was a new sense of purpose in their eyes.

"You have come a long way," they said, their voice filled with pride. "The dreamscape has flourished because of your journey, but now it is time to explore new horizons."

I looked out over the dreamscape, feeling a sense of readiness for whatever lay ahead. "What do you mean?" I asked, curious and eager to embrace the next chapter of my journey.

The guide gestured towards the horizon, where the sky met the endless expanse of the dreamscape. "Beyond what you see lies the unknown – new experiences, new challenges, and new opportunities for growth. It is time to venture beyond the familiar and explore what lies ahead."

With a sense of determination, I nodded. "I am ready."

Together, we descended the hill and walked towards the edge of the dreamscape. As we approached, the landscape began to shift and change, revealing new paths and uncharted territories. The air was filled with the promise of adventure, and my heart raced with excitement.

The guide stopped at the threshold of the new horizon, their expression filled with warmth and encouragement. "This is your journey to take," they said. "Trust in yourself and embrace the unknown with an open heart and mind."

I took a deep breath, feeling a sense of readiness and anticipation. "Thank you," I said, my voice filled with gratitude.
"For everything."

The guide nodded, their smile unwavering. "Remember, the dreamscape is a reflection of your heart and soul. As you continue to grow and explore, so too will this world. The journey is ongoing, and the possibilities are endless."

With a final look at the guide, I stepped forward into the unknown. The landscape shifted around me, revealing new vistas and uncharted territories. Each step was filled with excitement and curiosity, a testament to the endless possibilities that lay ahead.

As I ventured deeper into the new horizon, I felt a sense of liberation and empowerment. The journey through the dreamscape had prepared me for this moment, and I embraced the challenges and opportunities with confidence and grace.

The dreamscape, once a place of sorrow and loss, had become a sanctuary of reflection, growth, and endless potential. It was a testament to my journey and my capacity for transformation and renewal.

In the waking world, I felt the impact of my journey through the dreamscape. I approached each day with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement, ready to embrace whatever challenges and opportunities came my way. The dreamscape had taught me the power of self-discovery and healing, and I carried those lessons with me as I ventured into new horizons.

Each night, as I returned to the dreamscape, I continued to explore and grow, discovering new depths of understanding and new possibilities for my heart and soul. The journey was ongoing, and I faced it with confidence and a sense of wonder.

And as I stood on the edge of the dreamscape, looking out over the endless horizon, I couldn't help but think of the journey we once shared. The memories, both bitter and sweet, danced through my mind like fleeting shadows. Yet, amidst it all, I found solace in the realization that even as our paths diverged, they had left an indelible mark on my heart. The dreamscape was a living testament to my journey, a reflection of the lessons learned, and the strength gained from our time together. And as I embraced the unknown that lay ahead, I carried with me the echoes of our story, a reminder of the resilience within.

Solo

Sat in a dark and empty room,
Surrounded by tireless gloomy shadows,
Wandering about,
Circulating around these four walls,
It is almost magical,
Yet throat clenching.
Despite being trapped in the centre of chaos,
I remain cool and composed,
Beneath a fatigued dim light bulb.
There was nothing else around me,
Aside from a handful of black pens,
Dozens of empty pale pages,
And a worn-out squeaky chair.
I sat down,
The shadows are forming songs around the room,
Dancing to their own rhythm,
I take a pen and a paper,
And I write.
At that time,
It was the most reasonable thing to do,
Is it possible that I was forced into this situation, and this was my only option?
I do not know.
My recollections are fragmented and disrupted,
Leaving me with little recall,
Incoherent and distant,
I cannot recall the sequences that lead to this,
Unusual patterns appear intermittently, 
Leaving prints on my retinas,
Baffling me,
Swings me between reality and the subconscious.

There was not much in this room.
The walls were concrete grey and there was a large, rusted steel door,
A little square-shaped window high up on the wall,
A chair, 
pens,
and hundreds of pages.
It felt both real and unreal in this dank prison,
I could not sleep despite feeling exhausted,
I did not feel hungry or need to use the loo,
I could not be happy or sad,
It felt like a dream,
Yet I was there,
All I could think of and feel was agony,
and it was the only thing I could write about.
I found myself in a state of conscious unconsciousness,
Unsure of time or place,
I am not sure who I am or what this means,
I wonder,
What's the point of having a brain that can only think of one thing?
I stroll about the room aimlessly,
Confused,
Sad.
Every few seconds,
a dazzling ray of light shines through the window,
revealing what was before concealed in a shade,
Hundreds or even thousands of partially degraded letters with strange designs and drawings on them scattered all over the walls,
I attempted to rip one off,
But it seemed set and refused to move.
I tried again but failed,
I screamed in anguish.
I drew the chair closer to the window to see the view outside,
I noticed a distant, white-walled lighthouse,
I stare in awe at what I am looking at,
I am on an island,
No one else is around,
I continue to stare while my eyes dance about, attempting to grasp what reality I am living in,
It was pouring severely outside,
The wind took everything and anything around the island,
It was cold,
and the storm did not seem to start settling anytime soon.
Seconds later, I am interrupted by the lighthouse beaming right at me,
It almost blinded me,
before swinging away.
I hop off the chair with my back to the window,
Looking back on those four walls,
I am not able to fathom what I have just witnessed,
I cannot think of a way out,
Writing is the only rational option,
but there were way too many blank pages,
And I am unsure where to begin.

I have been alone for a long time and have lost the capacity to communicate,
I am not sure how many days I have been here,
or how it all began,
I do not believe that I have spent my entire life in this empty room.
I am not sure whether I am hallucinating, but I have been hearing distant piano playing after I finish writing a page,
It was usually in a major note and sounds like a lovely depression or a nice cry.
Is it possible that the person who placed me here intended for me to complete writing all the pages?
Will my words have the same fate as the ones on the walls?
I do not know.
I have done a few pages but cannot locate them anymore,
I am running out of ideas, yet time does not seem to change,
I do not know what to expect or to give.
I feel that I could give more but I am unable of giving.
Perhaps I should give up.
I have always found the concept of death reassuring,
Knowing that my life could end at any time allows me to appreciate both the beauty and tragedy of this planet.
Death is not a source of fear for me,
rather a means of healing.
There is nothing unique about this narrative,
I tried writing about my sorrow, but it did not seem to ease it,
I also tried expressing the remains of my memories but that failed to bring them back,
I tried repeatedly,
I write to escape,
and I do not know what else I can do.

Page #87?

Rebellious Love

It was a sunny and tranquil Monday.
The excruciatingly blue and limitless sky is becoming a home for the numerous moving clouds,
the distant yellow sun is taking a little vacation,
the city's alleyways are being traversed by a brisk, crisp wind that is contacting everything and everyone it comes into contact with,
it is banging on windows,
swaying the lush green trees to its own rhythm,
And pushing people through as they march steadily towards their intricate routines.
I take a small sip of my bitter, early-morning coffee,
as I, just like the others, proceed to go through my remarkable day.
It is the seventeenth day of this drab and tiresome month.
When one is by himself, they begin to understand things in a different way,
looking towards the distance for longer than you're supposed to.
taking pleasure in the sun's steady warmth,
observing the many little details throughout the day,
holding on to anything little and joyful,
clinging into whatever hope there may be,
climbing trees to gain a new perspective on this ghastly world,
doing the same thing over and over expecting different results.
living each day as the day before it,
trapped into the eternal and secret prison they call routine,
Until we let ourselves go.
The coffee has gone cold,
it is almost 9:00 am and I am running late for my disagreeable but important work.
I discard the plastic cup,
and steadily walk,
to fight through 5:00 pm for yet another day.

These days, I have inconsistent memory,
hazy mental images,
trouble recalling specific details,
and a constant sense of disbelief,
I have no idea what actually occurred and what did not.
However, a few tiny fragments are still present.
I remember when I first bumped into you,
I was struck by the gleam in your eyes,
experienced a sensation that I have never known before,
I understood that 'overwhelming' had a much deeper meaning.
your unrivalled beauty enthralled me.
it was one of those rare occasions when you are unsure of whether something is true or not.
Everything happened too quickly,
you flooded my heart like the colors flood the sky with a multitude of shades,
tones and hues,
in perfect harmony,
your sublime beauty enraptures my soul.
After just one look, I had fallen deeply in love,
everything changed with only a glance.
I felt vibrant.
No one else in this entire world, in my opinion, is capable of making me feel even close to how you do.
Not your normal love story, this one.
And the beauty of beginnings had no influence on me.
I recently heard someone say that occasionally you can tell right away if someone is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with.
I never believed in that.
I believed that the magic of beginnings can sometimes mask the absolute value of something.
But I gave up on all my beliefs once I met you.
I had enough courage to trust love one more time for you,
perhaps things would go in a less circuitous route.
The world may think I am foolish,
they can't see you like I can.
You have been mistreated in this cruel world,
and they have failed to recognise your amazing worth.
You overcame your demons,
you used your scars as a wing,
defeated those who opposed you and grinned at those who attempted to undermine you.
Despite everything you've been through,
you're standing right in front of me now,
tossing your long, curly hair over your shoulder,
confidently approaching the barista while ordering a dangerously potent espresso,
I didn't realise that the entire time I was staring at you in awe,
wondering how someone could go beyond the bounds of perfection.

Life happens at you quickly.
I became ill.
According to the physicians, it is a rare variety of cancer that is terminal.
Once you hear that horrible word, everything in your life is changed
because from that point on, every single second counts.
When I initially received the bad news, I was horrified.
It hit me quickly the first time, and then it continued to hit me every day after that,
rubbing salt into the wounds it had already caused,
wandering around my helpless organs,
leaving me vulnerable,
bed-bound,
and incredibly weak.
All of your past errors,
the things you regret,
and your underachievement over the arduous and adventurous ride you had in life eventually lose their importance.
Nothing else counts once you are on death row, yet as far as I can recall, I had a respectable life.
Everyone I know eventually disappears.
The most basic truth of existence is that death is inevitable.
Desperation forces you to think in an alternate way,
clouding your naive mind and injecting it with overwrought imagination,
tricking you into thinking that you could have rectified every little error you've made.
And this happens as I start to accept my cruel fate,
now on what is presumably my death bed,
holding a hand that I've held for thirty-odd years.
The prestigious monitors to which I'm linked begin to incessantly beep,
singing out of time,
illuminating the ceiling with vivid hues,
causing a commotion in my dreary room as others rush inside.
They did everything they could to save me and keep me on this lifeless planet,
but I let them down.
I got too far away and no one could save me.
My life is being replayed as I slowly close my eyes for the final time.
I am dying away while holding a delicate hand and wearing a slight grin.
I can only see complete blackness as my wretched spirit begins to go from this broken body.
However,
I was certain of one thing:
the hand I was grasping wasn't yours,
and she wasn't you.
I wonder if I could start over,
I'm not sure if I would keep myself,
but I would find a way to keep you.

The Devil's Mistress

I placed you in a dark brown wooden case infested with mold and rust,
And I tossed the golden key some place I no longer visit,
I thought I buried you,
I covered the tracks.
I was careful not to look at the place too much so I don't subconsciously remember it.
I believed that.
I believed that was a chapter of my life that I was never going to visit again.
It was supposed to be a perfect plan.
Flawless.
But somewhere between planning and execution,
I probably have missed something.
And you managed to escape from all that,
and find a way back to me.
Haunting me,
Trying everything you can to trick me,
Manipulate me,
Until you take utter control.
And I am sat there helplessly surrendering to your mysterious power.
I am frail to your irrational desires.
Lying down on the rough stony ground,
Looking at your demonic eyes,
Reaching my arm as far as I possibly can,
Trying to push you away with my unaided strength,
Incapable of standing up on my delicate feet,
In complete submission to your mythical dominance.
There is nothing else I can do,
Other than allow you to take control over my slim body and my mortal soul.

My life is a constant struggle between my need for acceptance,
my fear of rejection,
and a desire to not care at all.
I lost the will to fight a long time ago,
I misplaced most of the thin pieces inside me,
My rebellious blood loses its' way through my veins' tortuosity,
My thoughts are astray.
My worried mind wanders too often through the cold and dark nights,
It gets hard to make sense of things eventually.
I am praying for something that makes me feel alive.
Something that makes life hurt less.
I lost everything I stand for,
Somewhere between the battle of rights and wrongs.  
I cannot hide what's on my impatient mind,
Any my felonious heart feeds on the cruel lies when it gets hungry.

Another lucid and golden morning comes,
As it always does.
I get out of bed drenched in my own tears and sweat,
I have fought for too many sleepless nights,
I stood up for you on every single occasion.
You somehow always have a plan to turn everything around the way you want.
This time I lose.
I can't put words together in sentences strong enough to repel you,
Tears gushing down from these hurt brown eyes,
Escaping their lonely reservoir,
Running through these papers,
Fusing with this indelible ink,
Adding a full stop half through my sentences,
Destroying everything I have been working on.
It was inevitable.
You reminded me of parts of me I never wanted to meet again,
parts I have been hiding away through all these anguished years.
The pale sickle moon can't keep spinning around this naked earth forever,
Running around in flawless circles,
In an infinite universe.
And just like the moon I reflect you,
I am looking at the broken mirror right across of me.
Maybe I am the monster,
Perhaps,
Loving ourselves is hard because we find it so difficult to forgive ourselves,
No matter how cruel or ugly I became,
I blamed it on you.
But today I believe,
Certain doors are meant to be closed,
Locked forever,
I push a bare rickety table against your door,
And there,
Beneath that wobbling table,
There is where you will find me.

Afterlife

Some steps you have to take alone,
It is the only way you can figure out where you need to go and who you want to be.
One day,
I decided to take a step on this steep and rather rickety ladder of life,
Maybe it hurt less than standing still.
My hideous incarnate demons often manage to get the best of me,
halting any minor progress I make.
It seems that, for some reason, they always had an overwhelming advantage.
Perhaps I have been avoiding fighting for too long that they became too powerful and immortal.
Monsters can be created but they can never be tamed.
I look down at the steps of the ladder that I have hardly passed,
And then I look up for the bright skinny light shining from above,
Maybe there is a distal end to this,
One way or another.
I do not think I still have any more energy left in me to continue,
And I have made so much progress to let go.
Stuck on the same step for quite some time now.
Maybe, sometimes, it is easier to accept the mundane reality than to push for unachievable limits.

There is something horrifyingly beautiful about darkness.
Something about not knowing your surroundings or not seeing the colors of things as they appear.
There is something about the unknown,
Being in this temporary secluded place,
There are unspoken words about darkness and its unmatched beauty.
I have found comfort where I am,
Surrounded by blackness in every single direction I look.
I became so used to the darkness that it no longer scares me,
I am more surprised by the light when it breaks through these well's walls.
Exposing everything around me,
Reflecting across the stagnant water underneath my trembling feet,
And shining on those moldy brick walls around me.
The time when the sun breaks through the distant sky ironically became my least favorite time of the day,
Maybe, sometimes, it is better not to know where you are in your mental interplanetary journey.
Perhaps, not knowing is a greater blessing.
I do not want to know how many rusty steps I have left to the top,
I do not care about the disappointingly slow progress I have made so far,
I have accepted the shadows,
And they have accepted me,
Perhaps I have become a malevolent demon myself,
Maybe we are not all ought to grow up as radiant and mighty angels,
We do not get to choose sides,
There is probably an underlying sinister wisdom in keeping it unevenly balanced.

My clumsy hands are getting tired of holding in to this cold metal,
My brain is too fogged up with intrusive thoughts to let go,
I do not know if there is actually an end to this cruel well,
I do not remember how I got here in the first place,
What am I doing here, and how did I get here?
Is this supposed to be one of those tests from the mighty god?
Or am I trapped in someone else's universe?
It is pitiful.
This intensely unorganized life has lost its' value a long time ago,
There is no point in holding on anymore,
Nothing worth fighting for,
No one is waiting on the other side.
I am alone in this dreadful battle,
Surrounded by mold, rust and rancid smell occupying the space I settled in.
I feel so small.
I think hope is a desperate attempt to falsify the truth,
And I ran out of things to wish for.
I no longer have enough belief in anything.
''Almosts'' will always haunt me,
I almost made it out of this bizarre place.
''I almost''.
I have said that over a million times.
I look down,
Maybe this cold sulfurous water is not that unpleasant.
I look up,
And on my restless face,
a weak and humorless smile appears.
I sometimes cannot comprehend the unpredictability of life.
A silent and unnoticed tear makes its' way down my smudged cheek.
I do not want to feel anything anymore.
I let go.
Freefalling into the uncertainty,
Unparalleled gravity pulls me through the countless brick walls.
The light at the top feels smaller and the circle closes.
My scarred body makes contact with the water causing a noisy splash,
I hit my head on the concrete floor of the well,
I have finally found numbing and false peace,
as I count my last seconds in this hideous place.
I have accepted my brutal faith,
There was nothing worth holding on to anymore.
I let go,
As I should have a long time ago.