Sleep. What would I do without sleep? Sleep is awesome, sleep is life. There’s nothing quite as sweet as sleep, indeed. Ah, that was some nice use of iambic pentameter. I should be a poet. Ha.
“Hey.”
Mm? Who’s that? Who dares disturb my slumber? Hehe. I sound like a grumpy bear.
“Hey.You.”
Eh, go away. I’m cozy… Where was I? Oh, that’s right. Sleep. Sleep is—
“Oh, for god’s sakes, wake up, damnit!”
Whack!
“Huh? What the—? Huh…? Ow!”
Smooth, Jenny. Real smooth. You best listen to the disembodied voice and wake up now. Go on, wake up already. Wait, why am I talking to myself in second-person? Doesn’t matter, I just have to get up. Yeah, that’s it, get up and assess the situation. Assessing situation: loading, loading. Situation assessed.
Okay. I’m in a park. Or at least I think it’s a park. It could be a forest. Or an arboretum. All right, so there are a lot of trees. That’s all I really know right now.
The set from Twilight, maybe?
The point is that whatever this place turns out to be wouldn’t matter anyway, seeing as I distinctly remember not falling asleep here. Wherever “here” is.
Alright, focus: Assess. What else is wrong with this picture? Well for one, there’s someone standing over me. Someone who just hit me.
“About time you get up. You have any idea how long I’ve been standing here? I was beginning to think you’d croaked.”
Also, she’s the spitting image of what I imagine the main character of my novel-in-progress would look like. Yeah, that’s kind of a biggie on my ‘What-on-Earth-is-going-on?’ list at the moment.
“Go ahead,” she says. “Ask. Get it over with already.”
“Who—no, wait—What…? How exactly am I supposed to phrase—? Are you..?”
“Yes,” she replies, crossing her arms. She looks amused—smug, even. “I am.”
“Desiree?”
“In the flesh.”
“Huh… Interesting.”
“Very interesting, indeed.”
“Yup. It’s official. I’ve finally gone bonkers.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, you’ve always been bonkers, but if you’re saying that because of this conversation we’re having then I wouldn’t worry. You’re not insane quite yet.”
“Uh, I’m pretty sure hallucinating that I’m talking to an imaginary character means I am.”
“You’re not.”
“Yeah, sure. Because hearing my hallucination tell me that I’m not crazy is totally not crazy. Like, at all.”
“For the last time, you’re not crazy. Are you really that insecure about your mental well-being?”
“I’m insecure about a lot of things, lady, and seeing a figment of my imagination come to life certainly ain’t helping any.”
“You’re still sleeping, genius,” she informs me matter-of-factly.
“Huh?”
She gives the most nonchalant ‘I’m-going-to-punch-you-if-you-don’t-snap-out-it-quickly’ look ever and states, “You’re dreaming.”
“Oh. Well, then that explains everything, doesn’t it?”
“Honestly, you’d think the person who created me would be somewhat brighter. Hate to imagine what that says about my intelligence.”
“Hey!”
“Look, enough of this nonsense. I didn’t invade your dreams just to have a chat about your mental issues. I came here for a reason.”
“Wow, you’re a rude one, aren’t you?”
“What are you complaining about? You made me this way. Quite literally, actually.”
~~~~
To Be Continued…
.