what dreams may come
#18
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It was cold underground, even if the hard dirt walls kept the winds away. But he was being smothered by a thousand worn blankets when he awoke, shuddering at the pressure pressing against the back of his head. Red eyes and a never-fading grin, well and alive in his mind, just as he had always known. His arms curled around himself even though they felt like they were burning. He opened his eyes because shadows lurked behind his eyelids and the quiet den offered him nothing but blackness. But it was easy to lose himself in that abyss too and so he forced himself to his feet, dragged himself silently above ground to meet the bitter and howling winds.



He wandered because it kept him awake, just like all those other endless nights that he had walked through because unconsciousness brought the demon to life. It was the same, even now, even if nothing seemed to have leaked out of his own mind. But there was a man at the lake, just as there had been before. So maybe this was still the same crazy mindfuck and he hadn't really broken free. There was no fog tonight and the sky was clear and full of stars. The hybrid shook his head and turned around without approaching. Reality and the dreams. It was all the same.



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