Dreams. They were always such an odd phenomena conjured up by the subconsciousness of the living. It didn't matter to whom these dreams visited for they are forgotten as soon as wakefulness takes the stage. And yet, some dreams could not be forgotten, as if they were creeping vines, snaking around the heart of the soul.

A singular creak from the mattress below urges the live body upon its coils to open Endellion's eyes to the monotonous world.

"You're leaving. Most girls would be clingy."