Just A Dream || Richard (rchardriders) & Peter (spacegallivanter)

He’s running towards something, he’s running with someone, a friend, he thinks, but he can’t remember his name or his face. It’s a kaleidoscope of blurred images meshed together. Fuzzy, hazy and broken, almost like static on a television. There’s a voice, distorted beyond recognition, but yet so so familiar, “You really shouldn’t trust anything I say.” Abruptly the scene changes and he’s flying, soaring higher and higher, zipping past planets and stars and civilisations, travelling at the speed of light, faster than the speed of light and just as suddenly he’s falling,

                                                            Falling

                                                                                                  Falling —

He awoke with a jolt and drenched in sweat, in a bed that’s not his own, on a planet that wasn’t his own. They say they found him in a crater, and that he’d been unconscious for almost two years. They say that he couldn’t have survived whatever it was that he’d been through. He wouldn’t know. He couldn’t remember.

One of the older men who’d been the first few who found him had took him after he recovered. He had let him stay there, and in turn he helped out at the shop he owned down at the marketplace. They didn’t know what to call him, but he figured he would call himself Gage, after the shop owner’s son, since it was only filling after all.

He had been having dreams of flying, of going from planet to planet. Of a voice in his head telling him what he ought to do, of wars and kings and battles, endless battles, always trying to stay alive. Or were they memories? But then again, everyone dreams of those such things.

But it felt so real, it still feels real.

Maybe he just wanted to go home. Wherever home was. He scrubbed his face with his fingers, shaking his head to clear the last visages of sleep. First things first, he needed a shower and then had a job to do.

He arrived at the shop much later, and lurked about the back entrance, waiting for the new stock to be delivered before he could store it in the back room, and yet waiting for something more than that at the same time.