Some Reality

• Tayla Needham, Grade 8, Lisarow High School
• Short Story
• 2014

Finalist in the 'The Text Generation 2014' competition

I fall asleep every night with ease, closing my eyes and shying away from the reality of Earth. Silence swallows me and my existence is disintegrated for a moment’s time. Everything is calm as I lie on the edge of two different worlds.
I allow myself to be sucked into the reality of Dream and open my eyes. They remain shut in Earth’s reality but they still witness everything in the Dream reality. I am dead to the Earth’s world, but I’ll remember this when I awake.
I have changed a lot in Dream. My hair has darkened dramatically and the irises of my eyes have changed from brown to emerald green. I am not in my flannelette pyjamas, but in dusty jeans and a dirt smeared jacket.
The Dream reality likes to change its scenery frequently. It becomes quite annoying at times. One night I’m in a mansion sipping out of a glass with a lemon slice stuck onto it. The next night the world belongs to the dead and I’m fending for myself against vicious creatures.
Sometimes I’ll pray to leave Dream, whilst other times I’ll want to stay. I never get to stay though. The Earth always wants me back.
I can tell that this isn’t one of those scenarios where I own a mansion. There’s no dead walking the streets either. I am safe from an apocalypse.
The heat of UV Rays beat down upon my skin. I have been sweating for quite a while. There is no shade here. Just sand as hot as the Sun. I figure I’m somewhere like the Sahara. I am alone, I think.
“Hey, you there!”
I am proven wrong.
The voice is muscular and hoarse; convincing me it belongs to a male. I spin around to see a blurred shape in the distance. He’s waving his left arm. I can’t make out his face so I attempt to move closer. The Dream reality doesn’t want me to move though. It plants me to the spot. I’m dehydrated. I need water.
The man demands my attention again and the ground becomes shaky. I am spinning-No, the Dream reality is spinning. I can hear my mother’s voice, demanding for me to wake up. The man disappears and I return to Earth again.
The truth is that I’m not sure who I am, really. I’m not sure if this fantasy I dream of at night is real or if I’m just as delusional as my mother says. But I don’t mind either way.
I’ve always been told that I should start living my life to the fullest and to stop being so afraid. I should go out more. I should make new friends. I should try new things.
But, honestly, that’s not my definition of fullest. I don’t have any desire whatsoever to do those sorts of things. I’m different to most and that’s okay.
I’m happy with my dreams, but I certainly don’t need to chase them.