As I gazed at the girl, a sense of confusion and bewilderment overtook me.
I was perplexed by the fact that she was able to interact with me even though I was merely an observer in the dream. As far as I knew, people shouldn't be able to see or communicate with me in this state. I couldn't understand how this girl was looking at me in the eye, as if she knew I was there. It was as if she was trying to tell me, "I can see you." It didn't make any sense, and yet, there she was, staring right at me with a knowing look in her eyes.
If this was indeed a dream, then I was nothing but a passive bystander, an observer with no power to influence or change the events unfolding before me. But the fact that this girl was talking to me, engaging with me, made it all too clear that this wasn't just a mere dream. It was as if I was transported back in time, to a moment in my past that I had long since forgotten.
As the dream continued, it became increasingly clear that it was delving into my past, presenting me with scenes that I would rather forget. At first, I was taken aback by the vividness of the dream and wondered if I had somehow passed away and was now reliving my life in my final moments. It felt like my entire existence was flashing before my eyes, and I was powerless to stop it.
As the dream progressed though, I realized that it was not just a simple recollection of events, but rather a selective exploration of moments that I had tried so hard to bury deep within my mind. It was like someone was forcing me to confront my past, even though I was not ready to do so. The dream seemed peculiar and eerie, as if it was trying to reveal something that I had buried deep down, something that I did not want to remember.
The girl who had appeared out of nowhere, her eyes locked onto mine, had a mischievous glint in her eyes that made me feel like she had something to do with all of this.
Trying to make sense of it all, I asked her, "Who are… you?"
The girl didn't respond to my question but instead posed a new one, "Let me ask you something. Will you be able to deny reality when it's staring you in the face?"
"What do you mean?" I asked her to clarify what she meant.
The girl pressed her body close against mine, her eyes locked onto mine, "Tell me. Will you be able to deny it?" Her lips curved into a sly smile, and for a moment, I felt like I was being tested.
I took a step back, trying to gain some space, "Deny what?" What was she getting at? Unable to guess her intentions, I just looked at her, confused.
"Your reality," she said, her tone light and jovial, almost as though she was teasing me. It was a strange contrast, her playful tone against the seriousness of her message.
"You've been denying your entire existence, Leon," she continued. "You've been hiding from the truth of your own identity, refusing to face the reality of your situation. You're clinging onto a false sense of self, a facade that you've created for yourself to avoid dealing with the harsh realities of your life."
Her playful tone couldn't hide the weight of her words. She was right. I had been living in denial, hiding from the harsh reality of my situation. But the girl in front of me was forcing me to confront these harsh truths head-on. And she was right—I had been denying the past that should've been my truth.
It was true that I had been denying my own existence. I had been denying my own past, refusing to acknowledge it. I had been clinging onto a false sense of self that prevented me from improving myself and facing the world.
The girl continued to speak with the same playful tone, "You deny that you're a failure, that you're weak, and that you're nothing special. You refuse to improve yourself and instead hide away, refusing to face the world. You're denying the truth of your past, refusing to acknowledge it. Leon, you're denying your own reality, denying your own existence."
Her words cut through me like a sharp blade piercing my heart. She was calling me out on my deepest fears and insecurities, the things that I had been denying all along. It was as if she had read my mind and was now forcing me to confront my inner demons.
"So, Leon? What are you going to do? Are you going to confront the reality or avoid it like what you've been doing all this time?"
It was a question that required an answer, one that I couldn't avoid. But for some reason, my tongue remained tied in my mouth, and I found myself unable to speak.
It was as if my own self was preventing me from speaking, as if I was being held back by some unseen force. I tried to force the words out of my mouth, but they remained trapped inside, like a bird in a cage.
The girl's eyes bore into mine, waiting for an answer. Her stare was so intense that I instinctively had to look away.
"Oh, are you planning on averting your eyes from the truth again? How about this?"
She snapped her fingers, and in the next instant, the scenery around us changed in the blink of an eye.
It was at that moment that I knew for certain that she was the one who was showing me this dream. She had complete control over the dream, and she was able to manipulate it at will.
The disorienting sensation hit me once again, leaving me feeling as if the whole world had been turned upside down. I stumbled for a moment, trying to regain my bearings. A wave of nausea washed over me, threatening to overwhelm my senses.
Desperately, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that it would somehow help to quell the unsettling feeling in my stomach.
When I finally opened my eyes again, I found myself in a small, cramped room. It was dimly lit, with only a faint glow of sunlight filtering in through a small gap in the closed curtains. The soft light barely illuminated the space, leaving most of the room shrouded in shadows.
Despite the overwhelming darkness in the room, however, several items could still be discerned, scattered about in a disorganized fashion.
The room was an absolute mess. The furniture was overturned, the curtains were torn, and the bookshelves were smashed on the floor. The room was in complete disarray, as if a violent storm had ripped through it.
"Oh, right…this is my room."
As I took in the scene before me, my gaze fell on a figure curled up on the edge of the bed. It was my past self, his face gaunt and haggard, his hair disheveled. I could see the dark circles under his eyes, a clear sign that he had been struggling with sleep.
Suddenly, a hollow knock rang out from the door.
"Leon, are you in there?" came a worried voice from the other side. It was a woman's voice.
My past self flinched at first but decided against answering.
"I was wondering what was going on with you, Leon. You've been holed up in your room this whole time. You haven't come out at all, so me and your father have been worried sick about you."
The woman's words seemed to fall on deaf ears as my past self remained curled up in a fetal position, unresponsive to her attempts to reach out.
"Leon, if you are having a hard time, just let us know. We're here for you. I know what happened was really bad, but you can't just let that thing affect you." her voice quivered with concern as she spoke to my past self, who remained unresponsive.
She continued, "I know it's hard, but you have to face the reality of what happened. You can't just shut yourself off from the world forever. You have people who care about you and want to help you."
Her words seemed to resonate with me, even though I knew she was speaking to my past self. It was as if her message was meant for me as well, a reminder that I couldn't just hide from my problems forever. But it appeared that my past self remained impervious to the message she was trying to convey.
"Leon, please talk to me. What's going on? You can't just shut us out like this."
I looked at the girl who had brought me here, and she was watching the scene unfold with a knowing look in her eyes. What was her intention in bringing up my past failures and insecurities? Was she trying to encourage me to confront my past and accept my mistakes, or was there some other motive behind her actions? If that was the case, why was she doing this for me? I didn't know her, and I couldn't recognize her. It was all so confusing and bewildering. Perhaps there was a hidden agenda behind her actions, a sinister plan that I wasn't aware of. I couldn't help but feel uneasy about this situation.
The woman persisted in talking through the door, hoping that her words would somehow penetrate and reach my past self. Despite her efforts, however, my past self remained lost in his own thoughts, seemingly unable to respond.
"I'm coming in, okay?" the voice said, her tone now tinged with a deeper sense of worry than before.
With a creak, the door slowly swung open, revealing the woman standing in the threshold. As she entered the room, her white hair and pointed ears immediately caught my attention. She looked regal, and her red eyes seemed to scan the room with a sense of concern. It was clear from her appearance that she was a high-elf, someone of importance in the elven world. This woman was none other than my mother, Elisa Lefried Asura.
As she took in the state of the room with a gasp of surprise, her eyes immediately fell on my past self, still curled up in a fetal position on the bed. Without hesitation, she rushed over to him, concern etched on her face.
"Leon! Are you okay?!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with anxiety.
My past self struggled to fully grasp the reality of the situation, his eyes still blurry and unfocused. His voice was hoarse as he made an attempt to speak, his words coming out in a low, weak murmur. "Just leave," he said, his words a feeble attempt to push my mother away.