Everywhere was dark but not empty. I could see myself very clear and felt zippy energy shrouded around. A beautiful blond hair girl floated past directing her gaze at me and—
"Ouch!" Rising up from the dimensional-travelling tunnel, I, readily in pursuit of Princess Carla, instead found myself in a dingy room, wrist reining to a saline bag.
A small green sofa was right next to my bed while a mini bar with white microwave was on the other side. This was very clear to me. It could not have been any other place but a private hospital room at which my family was a patron.
I exhaled and raised a hand to touch my forehead where it was met by rough bandages. It was then that the flush noises from toilet told me there was actually somebody here and a nurse walked out.
"You're awake!" she was astonished and embarrassed, "sorry, it was a rush—I—I'll call doctor."
While I was left alone again, I tried to recall that dream. It was so complex and compelling, that I thought I could still smell the perfume Sharon, the head maid, put on me every day. But you know how dreams can get very real sometimes. I sighed accepting the end of the adventure and the doctor came in.
She did a general check-up and reported that I was recovering well and fine. She told me the story of how I ended up here. It seemed I fainted because of the heat and my head hit with the pavement. Somebody took my handbag away (obviously it's pricey), but someone else managed to get me to hospital. As usual, my family was too busy working to come looking after me, but they were informed on my condition daily.
As miraculous as it happened, my eyesight had become completely normal as well. Of course, not because of Magic like in the dream, the doctor said it was the effect of concussion. Either way I was glad. My glasses were lost with the bag anyway.
I was discharged a week later. There was really nothing wrong with me, just taking some restorative long break before plunging into the shambles of the world once again. My colleagues thought it was good for me because I looked a lot fresher, more energized, even seemingly younger than before. Papers mounded at the desk in my office just like in Coronale—it's funny how I kept comparing my life here to that dreamland all the time. Customers made a lot of complaints because they couldn't reach me (my phones were lost with the bag, remember? That's about the only thankful thing I felt for the thief.) Well, I got a new one and very soon, my life was as noisy with the rings as before.
I could not seem to forget the detail of Coronale like how the dreams are supposed to be—faded and blur as time passed by. I grew my black hair for that reason too. Deep underneath, I must be fretting about being mistaken as somebody else.
And that was all. My life went on the way it should be, the way it was. I know you guys must be pulling your hairs that this ended up as a sheer drope detailed dream. But what can I do?!
The end.