The dream was finally getting to the good part. What was happening in your dream? You didn't remember. Something about music, a guitar, and the Greek Gods, probably. All you knew was that this was it. This was the part of your dream that would leave you feeling excited to start your morning and satisfied with the dream once it was over—

Your face was suddenly hit with what felt like a cotton-clad brick—because fuck you and your super amazing dream about being cosmically kissed or whatever, apparently—that barely gave you another second to process what the hell just happened before you got your head smacked with it once more.

After being spared a moment to breath, you, in all your drowsy and bed-headed wisdom, are able to process the Mind staring down at you with what was possibly the most deadpan expression you've ever seen on a man who just attempted to beat someone to death with a pillow.

...Not to mention prying you out of a divine dream sequence, which may be arguably worse than trying to break your skull open with a pillow, as dramatic as that may sound.

"Wake up. Now. Right now." He says bluntly as if you weren't staring directly at him and spluttering curses under your breath. "Soul already made breakfast for Heart—and I would be eating too by now if I didn't have to wake up your lazy arse...seriously, what kept you asleep for a whole hour longer than usual?"

As if offended by your lack of an immediate answer, he clocked you in the head with the pillow one more time. Just for good measure.