Return to Reality

                 I close my eyes, slipping into the darkness of the night. Everything disappears as I fall deeper and deeper into what they call “sleep”, until I’m there, until I’m finally awake.

                You smile this time, and it brings a warm feeling into the depths of my soul. I love that smile of yours.

                “You’re back.” You grin.  “I’ve been waiting for you to return to Reality.”

                “I am,” I say, and you take my hand, and I feel safe.

                “You’re safe here,” you say, “Dreamer, you promised you wouldn’t do this to me again, leave, go back to Other World. You promised you would stay!” You’re angry now and your hand tightens around mine, until it’s a grip. I don’t feel safe anymore.

                The silence blares louder and louder between us as moments of our fragile lives pass until I say those dreadful words again, “I’m sorry.”

                 You look at me with disdain in your eyes, and toss my hand away. “It’s always the same, Dreamer. Why can’t you stay? This is what’s real. You have me here. We’re happy together.”

                 You’re jealous again, that you weren’t gifted, and I’m mad. “You don’t know what it’s like,” I yell, “It’s not something I choose. It just happens.”

                  “The others don’t switch as often, Dreamer. They don’t spend most of their time in Other World.”

“I’m not like you, Designer. There’s nothing for me in this world. I don’t belong here.”

                   You grab my shoulders and shake me, the ground quivers, the gentle breeze that blew across the green pasture of Reality turns into an angry gust of wind. Flowers sprout from the ground and then bushes with thousands of thistles.

                   “This is what’s real, Dreamer,” you yell.

                   Tears form in my eyes; my vision becomes blurry, watery, too much, and I begin to fade.

                   “No,” you scream. Vines tangle themselves around my body, and then, I can’t leave.

                    “I love you,” you say. Flowers sprout everywhere on the meadow and the vines that imprisoned me loosen. “Then don’t leave again,” you plead. You hold out the promise ring you made me and place it on my fourth finger. I give you a gentle hug.

                     “I’ll try not to this time.” You smile again and I press my lips against yours.

                     We talk and wander through Reality for the rest of the day. You take me to see what other Designers have made while I was gone. We go to the ocean too and sit on our rock with our feet hanging over the crashing waves. The warmth of your body brings me comfort, but as the day progresses, the promise ring becomes heavier and heavier. The little doves that flit around my finger mock me, because I know that like them, I too, will fly away.

                      Night falls, and you make us a house. It’s beautiful, as always. “Don’t leave,” you whisper, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear, “I don’t know who I am when you’re gone.”

                      I don’t say anything. My body feels heavy though, and I want to cry, because I don’t want to leave either. “I’ll try to stay awake,” I tell you, and we do for several hours, until our eyes begin to burn and our heads hurt. You whisper sweet nothings into my ear during that time and show me beautiful things you’ve made for me while I was gone.

                      I try to fight it; I really do try. You hold me tightly, even as my eyes begin to close. “Don’t leave,” you whisper once more, but when I wake, you’re not there anymore, and I’m back in Other World, beneath my dark, blue covers.

                       I cry, not knowing when I’ll be able to find Reality again.