The sound of a bird chirping and a cold wind woke Lyra from her sleep. "What is this? Am I dreaming again?"
she mumbled, disoriented. She found herself in a familiar scene—the tree laden with impossibly beautiful flowers from her dream. As she reached out to touch a delicate rose, a hand suddenly clasped her waist.
She turned, startled, to find a boy standing behind her. His eyes met hers, and a strange warmth flooded through her. "What is this feeling?" she whispered to herself, her heart pounding. She was about to face him fully when she woke up with a gasp.
"Just a dream," she sighed, sitting up in bed. "But why did it feel so real? The tree, the boy, the blinding light... it was weird."
The doorbell rang, jolting her back to reality. "That must be Mom," she murmured, getting out of bed.
"Lyra, it's me. Open the door. I'm struggling with these bags," her mother's voice called from outside.
Lyra opened the door to find her mother drenched from the heavy rain. It was almost 9 pm. "Mom, you're soaked! Let me take those bags," Lyra said, quickly taking the bags from her mother and placing them on the table.
"Mom," Lyra asked, concern lacing her voice, "you usually get home around 6. Why are you so late tonight?"
"I usually finish work around 6, but the traffic was terrible tonight. The rain made it even worse," her mother explained, shivering slightly.
"Okay, Mom. Go take a warm shower and get changed," Lyra said, her concern evident. "I'll put the food away."
"Thanks, honey. By the way, these bags are for you. I also got takeout—your favorites!" her mother said, a smile gracing her face.
Lyra excitedly opened the bags. Inside, she found her favorite junk food and a few other treats. Her mother went to the bathroom to shower and change.
After her mother showered and changed, she joined Lyra at the dining table. The aroma of the takeout filled the air.
"Wow, thanks, Mom!" Lyra exclaimed, already digging in.
"You're welcome, sweetie," her mother replied, joining her at the table. They ate together, sharing stories about their day. Lyra recounted her strange dream, and her mother listened attentively, offering comforting words and a warm smile.
As they finished their meal, Lyra's mind still lingered on the dream. The boy, the flowers, the strange feeling... it all felt so vivid, so real. She couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just a dream.
Later, as she prepared for bed, she decided to let the mystery of the dream rest for now. She was tired and needed to sleep.
Tomorrow was a new day, and she was sure it would bring its own set of surprises. She wished her mother goodnight and settled into bed, her mind still buzzing with the lingering images of her dream.
Lyra woke up to the soft glow of the morning sun streaming through her window. She stretched, the lingering warmth of the dream still a faint echo in her mind. She opened her window and inhaled the fresh morning air, the scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filling her senses.
She went downstairs to find her mother, but she wasn't in the kitchen,
"Mom, where are you?" Lyra called out, her voice echoing in the quiet house. "Where could she be?" she wondered, her gaze sweeping across the living room.
"Lyra, I'm here!" her mother's voice called from the back garden.
Lyra followed the sound of her mother's voice and found her in the garden, tending to the flowerbeds. It was Sunday, a day off for her mother, and Lyra felt a surge of happiness at the prospect of spending the entire day with her.
"Mom, what are you doing?" Lyra asked, approaching her mother.
"I'm just tending to these plants," her mother replied, her hands gently pruning a rose bush. "They need a little TLC"
"Can I help you?" Lyra offered, eager to join her mother.
"No, sweetie, you go have breakfast first. There's food on the table. Make yourself some milk or coffee. I'll be done in a bit," her mother said, her voice warm and inviting.
"Okay, Mom," Lyra replied, her heart filled with a sense of contentment. As she turned to head back inside, she noticed her mother's smile. It was a smile that held a quiet joy, a love for the simple things in life, that always warmed Lyra's heart.
She went back into the house, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and the promise of a peaceful Sunday morning filling her with a sense of peace.
To be continued...