they promised that dreams can come true
She does not find new paths, but she creates them. They are not real, of course, but her mind rarely knows (or cares) about the difference. They are real enough that she finds herself lost in the worlds she creates. So often the world is similar to this one, but she finds herself living some different variation of her own life. Lies are easiest to believe when they are close to the truth. In many of them, she knows her mothers. In some, she has made up friends to play with and siblings to trick. There are none where she knows their true faces though.
So you must be my sister then, he says, and she cannot believe that she hasn’t made him up as well. She tries to let go of her power, but either she’s too lost in the illusion or he is truly real. It seems strange to go poking at him to determine his solidity (it is the easiest way for her to determine reality), so she refrains, looking for some other clue for the truth of him. He looks so unlike her though. In her dreams and her illusions, her siblings at least resemble her mothers in some way. How would she have made him up?
Besides, he paints a whole family for her. Her eyes go a little wide as he pulls them forward, one by one, introducing them (in the only way one can introduce an illiusion). “Our siblings,” she murmurs as he introduces them. She watches with a fascination she has rarely known, even as a child should know such fascination. This though is real, and reality is a fascinating thing. Her own reality, something so warped and uncertain for her.
He finishes, and she finds herself overwhelmed and yet longing for more. More siblings to know but not truly know? Or simply to know them, to know a family she has only imagined having. Such a possibility never truly crossed her mind.
“You are like me?” she asks, though it is only half a question, referring to his power and not to their clearly shared family. “Can you control it always?” The phrasing is awkward in her question, but she doesn’t know how to ask the question. She can’t quite bring herself to ask if he too loses the line between reality and illusion so easily, fearful that it’s only her, that it will always be only her.
So you must be my sister then, he says, and she cannot believe that she hasn’t made him up as well. She tries to let go of her power, but either she’s too lost in the illusion or he is truly real. It seems strange to go poking at him to determine his solidity (it is the easiest way for her to determine reality), so she refrains, looking for some other clue for the truth of him. He looks so unlike her though. In her dreams and her illusions, her siblings at least resemble her mothers in some way. How would she have made him up?
Besides, he paints a whole family for her. Her eyes go a little wide as he pulls them forward, one by one, introducing them (in the only way one can introduce an illiusion). “Our siblings,” she murmurs as he introduces them. She watches with a fascination she has rarely known, even as a child should know such fascination. This though is real, and reality is a fascinating thing. Her own reality, something so warped and uncertain for her.
He finishes, and she finds herself overwhelmed and yet longing for more. More siblings to know but not truly know? Or simply to know them, to know a family she has only imagined having. Such a possibility never truly crossed her mind.
“You are like me?” she asks, though it is only half a question, referring to his power and not to their clearly shared family. “Can you control it always?” The phrasing is awkward in her question, but she doesn’t know how to ask the question. She can’t quite bring herself to ask if he too loses the line between reality and illusion so easily, fearful that it’s only her, that it will always be only her.
Oriash
but they forgot that nightmares are dreams too
@[aegean]