Brielle: Dreams And Wars

It was happening again. I was aware that I was in a dream, but yet it felt so real. Am I even dreaming? Of course, I am. What else could it be? This can’t be real. I can’t have happiness, also, I can’t be so submissive.

I don’t know where I am. The place looks luxurious, nothing like the cabin I live in with my father and brother. Unlike my house (I can’t call it home. It is not a home), the place doesn’t have broken windows, a stale wooden floor, mold in the corners of the room, a noisy ceiling fan, or a mattress with springs bouncing out. No. This place smells like roses and berries. The marble floor shines. The white walls stand tall. A big clean window shows a view of the distant mountains of the north and a forest in front of it. Even when the windows are closed, I know how refreshing it must smell outside. The room had warmth in it, unlike mine in the cabin, which is always cold. A small smile curled on my lips. At least I get to feel this luxury in my dreams. All my life, I ha