Lucid, I believe

           Intangible fantasies on lucid dream were always there to fulfill insatiable, forbidden desire. Tilted from the normalcy, evasion accomplishes regression, and collision establishes catharsis, with turbid, grayish pity upon oneself. When it comes to lucid dream, the evasion and collision coexists, throwing one upon extreme ecstasy, vivifying the imaginary utopia, outside, but inside the real world. Nonetheless, un-easy as it is, only selected few are allowed to step down the staircases of lucid dream. It is said, bundles of hostile stories and the ghastly figures surround one, as if they are Cerberus. If I’m one of the stars particularly glittering around, chosen by The Supremacy, I would definitely get into the lucid dream. Definitely, unquestionably, I will. I will.

           Remember the ‘break’, I was heard. It determines whether it is dream or real. Remember the ‘break’, I was heard.

           Then, suddenly, stunning laser lights colored – white, black, white, black- splashed inside my closed, dim eyes, making me fragile, drowning under the deepest surface of abyss, -fallen- into an addiction without gravity, then –beep-

           From the very moment the last scoop of dense air exited out of my lungs and my now-unbound soul seeped through my dry skin towards the heavens above, there were no more tears. I was dead and so did the pains that I've entailed. Gone. Erased. Yet my free soul was not, though my flesh and blood were naught. I fluttered through the air, racing towards the light above—a cosmic relief.
        After hours of mindless flight, I arrived at a gate of gold so marvelous, yet humble. It was silent, but it hummed a divine hymn. I was addicted to it. My eyes fixated, I stand for however long I pleased. It was a fortress of gold standing on a cloud—the outskirts of paradise.
        Then came a voice.
        "Majesty, welcome back to your shelter."

           Majesty. Quite satisfying character. Disempowered since the day of breathe, I believe, temporary taste of power would be a piece of delight and jolly. I take this.

           You’re welcome. How come there aren’t any newcomers?

           Mimic dwarfs out of my imaginations startled – seemed to be all my acquaintances, so I desired them to be ‘welcoming’, ‘pleasant’, thus, showed greetings, but erratically their faces were swirling into pieces as if they have confronted catastrophe, once experienced, quite a short time ago – The swirls invaded me with venomous, reddy blood drops all over the atmosphere, trying to crawl upon the barrier that might disgruntle every existence in between the dream and real world.

           Just before the scratches are fairly made as disgraceful scars, the scene had been frozen.

           Then,

           Break one.

           Hugh..

           Break two.

           Huh?

           Definitely, I wasn’t the selected few, I believe.