1.

She used to have the most vivid dreams when she was younger. They tore through her mind with gusto and when she awoke, they burned the back of her eyes. They continued as she grew older, now a student with serious responsibilities, still as consuming as ever. She didn’t resent them; it was quite the opposite. She noted them down, thankful that she could get a glimpse of the inner workings of her own mind. It was comforting, even as her friends spoke of no longer being able to remember their dreams, unable to recall the images that flashed through their consciousness.

But then –

They stopped.

|||

She has started work, a regular 9-5 office job. It was interesting, she was occupied during the day with deadlines and meetings and returned often too exhausted to eat, choosing instead to throw herself back into the magical world that existed beyond the vestiges of reality. She didn’t notice at first; there were too many things to worry about, she had no time to truly think and reflect. But she caught a glimpse of the worn blue notebook one evening, as she dressed for bed. The notebook that contained all her dreams. The notebook which was collecting dust on her desk, the one she had been neglecting for too long. Guilt wells up in her and she slumps heavily onto her bed.

|||

She tries for the next few days to remember them, forcing herself to hold onto those images that coursed through her mind, but they slip away before she can write anything down. She begins to feel frustrated, throwing the notepad into a corner. She doesn’t have time for this.

|||

It was beginning to wear her down. Headaches were far too common these days and her entire being just felt so tired. She begins to resent her co-workers, with their false plastic smiles and pathetic attempt at conversation. She begins to avoid them, starts to refuse their offers of going out for lunch, for drinks, for dinner. They notice her sudden unwillingness but don’t comment on it. Soon they stop asking all together and she’s not sure she feels any better.

|||

She hears them talking about her, joking and laughing that she must be depressed or something. She walks away, a strange anger boiling through her. Still, she reasons, she deserves nothing less, with how she was treating them. Earlier, their boss had realised something was up too and had addressed her in front of everyone, telling her to ‘regain focus and work harder’ in a chastising tone. She had nodded, feeling heavy under the stares from her co-workers. She needed to get a grip, things were slipping out of control.

|||

She’s walking home one autumn evening, half focussed on the path in front of her, half distracted by her own thoughts. A sudden image flashes before her, of long blonde hair and dark, penetrating eyes. She gasps, halting completely. She blinks and the image fades from her eyes, but remains imprinted in her mind. She half walks, half runs home, holding back tears that threaten to fall.

|||

Her mother’s soothing tone helps, calmly reassuring her that it was perfectly normal for this to happen. She’s still shaken, thoughts spinning far too fast for her to grasp onto anything. It was a she. Her soulmate. She hadn’t expected that at all. She could be wrong, but there’s something distinctly feminine about those eyes. Her mother is still talking, still calm and she holds desperately onto the sincerity and love that shape her mother’s words.