The dream. — Hive

One more day, ironically, one day less. Another monotonous day, another lost day. The same teacher on duty who repeated to us the same thing and have said who knows how many times before, the companion of my right over perfume placed trying to hide a body odor, a combination of leavened bread and vinegar, at least I think. Also trying to hide his pain to the rejection of the rest with his petulant and self-centered attitude. To my left the typical chatty friend of all, first jester, laughter outputs of a madhouse and jokes that lost its charm long to cover family problems already knew from previous public events. The bustle of colleagues who never paid attention, the typical 'Did you see how much is the dollar already?' That is mentioned at least once a week.

Perhaps my annoyance was not the daily monotony, but with me for letting the days fade like sand in my hands without giving it too much importance. Finally I stopped looking at the sides and I noticed my reflection through a window that had the door, sleepy, tired looking, even more exhausted. And I knew the reason for that aspect, beyond staying awake at 2 and 3 am reading something, or ignoring the fact that I need to sleep because I did not want to return to that dream, to that place that only wore me out every day. Arriving at the conclusion that, like a bee that bites someone, what happens after a short time is inevitable, immerse myself in the darkness to see that unknown place, with grass sectioned with all kinds of colors, trees that surpass the clouds, a river that unlike the rest is black, off, and in the middle of the image, the child, maybe a meter, light brown hair like autumn leaves, intense blue eyes with emerald green highlights, but muted with disappointment, lips tight in a trembling curvilinear. He wore full-body pajamas and always held a rag doll with a disfigured face and a broken heart in his hand. Then the crying began, as he approached me with a hasty but weak step, collapsing on my feet, hugging my legs, looking at my face with his rain of tears that caused the clouds of the place to turn black and the air colder.

-I'm afraid, I feel alone. - Sometimes I would fall to that image and cry without saying anything. Although I wanted to, I did not.
-You should rest, sleep. - I crouched down to his level and laid him on my legs. - That way you'll feel better. Close your eyes and think of something nice. - I only stroked his hair without losing detail of his face and how delicate it looked until he fell asleep and I laid him down on a pile of grass and flowers that would serve as bed.
There I woke up, I dried some tears that came out without realizing it and I followed my routine again, thinking once again that my brother does not let me rest as I would like.