justprompts - Wake Me I'm Dreaming
(He's in a funk. Pardon him.)
What worries you masters you. ~Haddon W. Robinson
He wasn't home, in a comfortable bed he had bought for Bela. Boxes stacked against the walls in preparation to move. None of those things were even at home.
And it hit him all at once.
He was tied to a chair. Eyes covered, mouth gagged, and it hit him full on like a blow to the stomach.
None of it had been real.
Bela really had died that night, years before. He never had his second chance with her. He never held her again. Never told her he loved her. The pain of what felt like reality ripped through him, tore his insides up. She was dead. She wasn't coming back to him. He wasn't out of his burn or out of Miami....he wasn't soon to be a father.
There had been a happy ending close enough to touch, and he could still feel it as though it were real. He could feel her as though she were real. He recalled the way her pregnant stomach felt against his palm, his cheek, his lips. But it wasn't real. His body heaved with breaths he couldn't catch.
Fine. He didn't need the ending to be all happy. Just with her. Why couldn't he have that? Why didn't he deserve that? Why had he had to dream that everything had been okay? Be tempted with something he could never have. A sick joke, really.
Or was this the dream?
He couldn't tell. It felt as real as anything else, and it made more sense than Michael actually getting that life with her. Isn't this what his life was? The job? Controlled and direct, with no room for anything else?
He tried and tried to wake up, but he wasn't waking. Did that mean this really wasn't a dream?
Wake up, wake up, wake up... he screamed in his thoughts over and over.
311
What worries you masters you. ~Haddon W. Robinson
He wasn't home, in a comfortable bed he had bought for Bela. Boxes stacked against the walls in preparation to move. None of those things were even at home.
And it hit him all at once.
He was tied to a chair. Eyes covered, mouth gagged, and it hit him full on like a blow to the stomach.
None of it had been real.
Bela really had died that night, years before. He never had his second chance with her. He never held her again. Never told her he loved her. The pain of what felt like reality ripped through him, tore his insides up. She was dead. She wasn't coming back to him. He wasn't out of his burn or out of Miami....he wasn't soon to be a father.
There had been a happy ending close enough to touch, and he could still feel it as though it were real. He could feel her as though she were real. He recalled the way her pregnant stomach felt against his palm, his cheek, his lips. But it wasn't real. His body heaved with breaths he couldn't catch.
Fine. He didn't need the ending to be all happy. Just with her. Why couldn't he have that? Why didn't he deserve that? Why had he had to dream that everything had been okay? Be tempted with something he could never have. A sick joke, really.
Or was this the dream?
He couldn't tell. It felt as real as anything else, and it made more sense than Michael actually getting that life with her. Isn't this what his life was? The job? Controlled and direct, with no room for anything else?
He tried and tried to wake up, but he wasn't waking. Did that mean this really wasn't a dream?
Wake up, wake up, wake up... he screamed in his thoughts over and over.
311