Chapter 2:

Back In The Mundane World Of Reality

Proxima Ascension


I woke up choking for breath, my heart racing in my chest. The dream world had been so striking, so realistic, that it took me a beat to admit that I was back in the honest world.

As I lay there, trying to catch my breath, I couldn't jerk the sensation of concern that wavered from my fantasy. The Dream Weaver's words repeated in my mind, reminding me of the fragility of our perceptions and the peril of living on a planet of delusions.

I got up from bed and bumbled over to the window, looking out at the cityscape below. It was a chilly, dreary day, the sky concealed by a dense coating of shadows. The buildings dominated me like gigantic monoliths, their concrete facades threatening in a callous and numbed manner.

I couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnection, a sentiment that the simple world was somehow less than the dream world I had just left behind. In that fantasy world, everything had been immaculate, idyllic, and gorgeous. Here, in the real world, everything felt drab and prosaic.

But as I peeked out at the city, I recognised that there was a specific standout to be located in the clutter of my view. The way the sun glistened off the windows, the sound of the traffic rushing by, the scent of coffee floating up from the highway below. These were the specialities that made the real world real, that made it worth living in.

I chose to take a stroll, to submerge myself in the validity of the metropolis and to remind myself that there was a loveliness to be discovered even in the midst of shambles. As I wandered down the street, I started to glimpse at things that I had never noticed before. The way the leaves crinkled in the breeze, the sound of the street bard recreating a haunting melody on his harp, the aroma of freshly baked bread arriving from a nearby bakery.

I realised that the curse could have been a sort-of sign, maybe a gift. A reminder that the real world may not always be ideal, but it is real. 

As I resumed my walk, I felt a sense of tranquillity wash over me. The Dream Weaver's dream world may have been ravishing, but it was zero likened to the looks of the real world, with all its imperfections. I knew that I would always bear a fragment of that ideal world with me, but I also knew that I would always come back to the real world.

Always.