I've always loved life. I love my life working in the farm, so simple, so peaceful. No contact with the outside world, no troubles, no drama. I was raised by my lovely parents and my little sister Jolie. I love them all but at times I feel something's missing.

Ever since I was born, I was always compared with my aunt. My aunt was a beautiful soul, so kind, yet the world was cruel to her.

She died of cancer, she was stressed out, many people took advantage of her. When she died, she had nothing, she was didn't have a husband or children. She had no money, no property.

One of the last things I remember her telling me was that I had beautiful hands. She took my hand in hers, she was so weak. She told me I had the hands of an artist, hands that was meant to create wonders. She was also an artist, she still is.

Ever since her death, I've had these dreams...

At first I didn't think they were important but when I started having them every night, I knew it meant something. I've dreamt of him. I didn't know his name. First, he appeared as a boy, somewhere around my age. But as I got older, he grew older too. He took me on adventures and I fell deeply in love him ever since he first appeared.

Sometimes he had a dark aura, when he appeared with a dark aura, it would make me moody the next day. But when he appeared as a bright aura, I would suddenly be cheerful the next day.

This is just so weird. I don't know what to do... I'm always conflicted.

Should I tell someone? Should I ask for help? Is it really just a dream?