“Mom,” I looked at her and frowned. 

“Hm?” She had a smile that danced on her face. It was like she didn't even know that I suffered from this. 

“I'm afraid.” As soon as I said that, she frowned. A frown so loud it radiated around us and gave all of our surroundings bad vibes. 

“Of what?” 

“You know.” 

She patted me on my head and stoked downwards toward the very end of my hair. 

“It's 9 PM and you wake up fine everyday, hun. I think you'll be fine.” She smiled.

 But what she didn't know was that along with the paralysis of sleep that I was having, a boy kept visiting me. Not physically, but mentally. I don't invite him into my imagination, but it's just like he appears and pays his visit to me every night. I can see him vividly and picture what he wears mentally. It's proved that most people forget about their dreams within a few minutes of waking up, but he's just there—like air. 

“But mom what if I'm not okay. And what if the reason why I've been needy for such a long time is because of this.” 

“You're needy because you need to get out and have more fun! You're always home and droopy!” 

“The definition of fun would be great to put to life if I didn't have this 'thing' that freaks me out every morning. Sometimes I'm so afraid to the point where I feel I won't even make it alive.” 

My mom was always a fun person, and she was bummed when she noticed that both of her kids grew up with th