Life, Once Again!

When the eyelid lifted, it was a book with bookmarks in it. A handful of light enters the dark room and illuminates the book. I stared at the book cover for a while. I heard the sound when my eyelids slowly blinked four or five times. Two or two, you hear the thunder of the battlefield as the gunfire strikes. I slowly raised my torso. The window to the left of the desk is approaching with light and sound. The movie menu next door to the Mangians seems to be a war series. I got up and looked out the window. Boom, whenever the saturation rang, the screen of the TV next door flashed. I watched the TV next door slanted as it yawned. TV tastes terrible when the screen is big.

At that moment, you hear a thick man's voice in the presumed upper house, as you turn down the TV. Immediately, the person next door turns down the TV volume with a loud voice. The floor falls from the window with a small smile.

It was cluttered, but the floor came out of the kitchen and looked at the clock. 1: 00 a.m. In this era, 1: 00 a.m. is not that late. I usually watch videotapes or read books on the floor at this time.

When I fell asleep, I never felt sleepy, but I fell asleep for a moment. I sat on the couch holding the water bottle on the table. I feel relieved for some reason that the calm morning air has subsided. I drank a sip of water and leaned over the couch. I feel drowsy because I fell asleep.

I've never seen anything like this, but I guess there was fatigue. The floor was washed dry. I felt the heat of my remaining sleep washing away. I tried to get some water and go back to sleep, but when I woke up, I didn't want to lie down. I was about to turn on the TV and put down the remote in my hand. Instead, I hugged the cushion on the couch.

Tick, tick, the clock on the TV is noisy today. Do I have to grease my first needle? I'm freaking out. Is it the effects of sleep? Or is it just getting worse somewhere?

It was when I was tongue-dried my lips. A black dot was stamped on the cushion holding it. The floor stole his forehead with the back of his hand. The cold sweat was flowing. When I was washing dry, my face was sweating. I removed the cushion and went to the bathroom. I turned on the light and went inside.

“Body fat.”

The reflection on the mirror was a mess. I stare at my tired molten bones for a long time and turn on the cold water. I dipped my hands in cold water and remained numb, then leaned down. As soon as I took the water and put it on my face, the blurred images in my head came back to life, like a light bulb switch on.

The floor was roughly washed. Water splashed everywhere, but I didn't care. I washed my face with water and washed again. The cloudy memories came to my mind in the heat of the middle ages. The floor could not see its reality properly, but it could intuitively see that it was a terrible thing. I washed my face after I finished washing my face. The reflection on the mirror was only somewhat human.

I wiped off the moisture and came out.

“What was that? ”

I sat on the couch, holding my greasy head.

I'm pretty sure I had a dream. I had a very bad dream. Usually, when I have a nightmare, I wake up with the contents, but after a few breaths, I fly away to the other side of my memory. But now I'm slowly remembering the shape of a dream, as if it's pulling up an old memory. The floor tightens its breath and focuses its thoughts. If it was something worth considering as a dog, I would have forgotten it once, but now I feel like a fragment of a Smurfy Dream is important to never forget.

I prayed with my hands together and pointed my fingers at the tip of my nose. The more I controlled my breathing and focused my mind, the fragments of my dreams that were scattered began to reclaim.

The first thing I saw was the stage. The floor knows the stage well. I see a man in a mask. He jumps onstage excited, and in his dreams, he falls into a violent state of excitement and grabs the man's collar. I didn't recall why I was so upset. After reviving the memory of this dream, it is something to think about.

You close your eyes, blocking your sight, and the black veil opens, making it easier for you to see into the world of dreams. The masked man's voice comes back to life in a murmuring memory. The floor made the most sensual day to hear the man's voice. Then the man's voice gradually becomes clear.

I hope it's over, but maybe it's not. Let's meet again, in your heart. And set me free. It's my only play.

I couldn't understand what that meant, but after a while, I could understand him clearly. The face hidden in the mask, it was definitely me. Poor creatures that can only live onstage.

The floor puts its hands on its chest. When I was immersed in smoke, I always felt two selves. One is rational and actively responds to change by observing the situation around him, and the other is emotionally only looking at the smoke and not caring about anything else at all. The one I saw on the stage in my dream, the one behind the mask, I would have been obsessed with the smoke. It makes sense to interpret it that way.

It was then that I felt like there was something else besides myself on that stage. I focused more on my mind. I was crying at the last moment, wearing a mask. I wonder why she cried.

I felt the stiffness on the back of my neck. No matter how focused I am, I can't figure out why I'm lucky in a mask. In addition, another person who seemed to have been there also did not come to mind clearly. I just remember there was someone else on that stage besides the two selves.

The floor took a deep breath. The dream ended there, but it didn't start there. Obviously there was more content before that. I focused and focused again. I stuttered in the darkness, tasting the reverse of time. But nothing came to mind as clearly as the stage. No, I was interrupted when I tried to extract the memory that sank beneath the surface.

It was the sound of her snoring. Every time I try to remember by grabbing the edge of the nightmare, I hear her snoring. His fiercely moving brain drifts like a dog underneath the horse on spring day. It's a dream, but I can't help thinking about it.

Perhaps it's her consideration that sleeps rather than trying to recall her nightmares.

But the floor didn't give up. I felt strongly that I shouldn't stop here. A life returned from the dead. You can't turn a dream into an example. Maybe it's like a visionary dream.

I stutter and stutter in the swirling memory. As I tried to catch a clue of my dream while walking the streets where the memories of my dreams and reality were muddled, I remembered a glimmering, single video.

Standing on the street, a bus is coming from across the street. On the bus, he is riding through steel and dying. The floor watched as it swallowed its groaning. Is this what a nightmare is?

Death is certainly hard to bear. I know better because I have tried it. How desperate death is. Even now, when I come back to life, my body shivers when I think of the moment of death.

But there's something wrong with this. It seems to tell us that there is something beyond death. The floor caught a crease in the forehead and recalled the scene facing the bus. A bus running towards me standing on the road. Is that all you got?

It was when I shook my head slightly in reality. Mysteriously, the landscape in the dream also slightly twisted to the left and to the right. At that moment, the floor was visible. People standing between the roads on either side. Strangers are lined up on the left. On the right is a group of people who are now together and living in the same age.

What does that scene mean? It was when the floor was thinking.

Nothing.

The floor focuses its mind, biting its teeth to the brittle of its molars. Among the people lying between the roads, I don't see her in the fall. I can see people's faces clearly enough to describe them with a pen right now, but I can't find her in there.

Who has more meaning than anyone in this life? She is no different. It's a strange thing not to find her in here.

Where is he?

Where the hell are you?

At that moment, the floor felt something twitching at its feet. The self of the dream slowly bows. Vision goes down with you. There comes a small, fragile rabbit trembling. The floor slowly reaches out and grabs the rabbit with both hands.

Then the rabbit said,

- How?

Otherwise, your eyes will pop wide open.

The floor felt its mouth open by itself.

- I'll save you this time.

That's what I said in my dream.

* * *

“What is it?”

The floor woke up scratching its head. Why are you lying on the couch? I was confused. I must have fallen asleep in my room looking at the book.

I had a sleepover, but I turned on the TV with a bad idea. 7: 00 a.m. I still have time to get to school. I watched the morning news and went to the bathroom. My body was strangely warm and still. Is the couch the right size?

It was time to look in the mirror with a slight smile. My eyes are swollen. I was surprised that my eyes were only swollen, unlike my flying body. At that moment, tears pour down my eyes.

“What?”

The floor wipes its tears with its palms, making a hollow laugh. But it didn't work. My tears did not dry but continued to flow.

“What's wrong with this? ”

Your lacrimal gland seems to be broken. The floor turned on the water and washed its face. Tears kept falling while I was washing, and I was a little embarrassed. Fortunately, by the time I finished washing, my tears were no longer coming out like a sealed faucet.

'It's strange, but I feel like I'm going to fly.'

He smiles at his reflection and comes out. I could see the sea coming out of my room.

“Good morning, Hansea. ”

“Come on. Since morning.”

“Good morning. Good morning. Say hello. I'm embarrassed.”

“What else am I going to ask you to do? ”

The floor lowers its raised hand.

“Never mind. What do I want from you? Wash up and get out. Eat.”

“What's a side dish? ”

“I was eating. ”

“I don't want any. ”

“Do you want one? Or I could just eat. ”

“I'm not a mother. ”

“Wash up if you have time to grumble. I'll be late.”

“It's still early. Whoa, I want an egg fry. ”

“I'll give you two. ”

The floor lightly snapped its neck and prepared a meal.

The sea came out while the soup was boiling. Watching her plucking with a towel with just the tip of her head makes me feel sorry for the man who will take her later.

“I have short hair, but I just feel it. ”

“It's annoying. Mmm, smells good. Thank you, Secretary Han. ”

“I'm just amazed that it suits you. ”

“That's funny. I've been so good to my brother. ”

“I guess I'm not going in with my brother? ”

“You are you. My brother is still my brother. ”

“Don't eat egg fries. ”

“Zombie.”

“Ask my brother to do it. ”

“Okay, you're my brother too. So what's the good news? I've been single all morning.”

The floor folds its arms and thinks. It's a good thing. I had a vague thought.

“I think I was dreaming. ”

“Dream?”

“Oh, what a pleasant dream. ”

“Did you have a pig dream? Buy a lottery ticket?”

“No. I'm not a pig... ”

“Then what? ”

“Rabbit. Very cute rabbit. ”

“What a dream. ”

“Let's make it pretty. ”

The floor smiled and gave the sea a spoonful. I don't remember the details, but I do remember the temperature of that moment. The poor temperatures belonged to a very familiar person. Someone who makes me smile just by thinking about it.

“Bitch! Who told you to smile like that? ”

The sea winces and says playfully.

“Okay, let's just eat. ”

The floor shrugs and raises its chopsticks.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I must have slept wrong.

My shoulder hurts.

uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh

T

* * *

Referrals, always appreciated.

Coupon, thank you. Thanks to you, I'm writing.

Completed:

Pharynx