Grey lumps of clay waiting to be used sat in the corners of each of the even greyer, drier four walls that would be wondering why they weren't painted on. The rest was a cluttered mess of tools and stuff that probably already had forgotten how they were supposed to be used.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ What I knew was that should they forget... I, on the other hand, should never forget any of these things' significance. But I wouldn't have wanted to waste them either, just to get on with it. 𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. Time was almost fluid, but my supplies and my drive were limited.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ My drive was fueled by my motivation... and I had none. My drive was no longer limited but non-existent. 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘺; 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘺 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩... 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴. I didn't even know where to find it, more so how to obtain it and use it as fuel.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ The wooden stool was almost digging into my bottom like a screw. I've been seated here, staring at the same old things, pondering, for God knows how long. Pondering about my motivation and drive. Thinking about my thoughts.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I hopped off of the stool and sat on the floor, leaned against the wall and sighed. Resting my arms on my raised knees, I began thinking... 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸. I could barely remember it, but what I did remember was the satisfaction and comfort. 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? Besides the sleep, something felt utterly relieving in that time up until I woke up.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Speaking of dreams, classical sculptures and statues made of marble and bronze appeared in my dreams occasionally. I had gotten so used to the statues like St. Benedict in my primary school, or the statue of the founding father of our town, propped up on display in front of the town library. He was not the first founding father, but he's apparently the most important because he fought for the re-establishing of the library no matter how many times it was threatened by fire. Besides that, the busts of the rest of the founding fathers were displayed inside the library.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Post modern sculptures from glass also appeared in my dreams. The ocean, too. However, none of these objects were new to me, but these feelings definitely were.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Other things that offered me new feelings were when my dreams would recreate an occurrence–a rather mundane one–as if I were experiencing déjà vu... but in my dreams. I'd get a glimpse of an ironing board in a television advertisement as I mindlessly flicked through the channels and later find it in my dream in my following sleep. 𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳?

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Something mundane would not be the best material for a compelling dream, and yet I was compelled somehow. Why else would I had been in my art studio, hoping to get started with my project? Odd times when I knew why, but not how. It was my previous dream; the reason why unlike other days, I've convinced myself this project be a mission and no longer an ambitious wish. However, how did my previous dream become to be the reason? I didn't know then.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Although, having a mission did not guarantee success. Because considering this should have only been a simple task: conceptualising and brain storming... I was still undoubtedly having a difficult time.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ My thoughts were meandering and I knew no better than to let my mind transition into a pity party. Instead of making use of my ideas, I dissected them. Yet the little bits I ended up with were still useless. My head was only static noise at this point.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I reassured myself this was not self-pity, but rather making sense of my progress so far.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧...

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I groaned and threw my head back.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I'm home! Andy, where you at?'' my girlfriend hollered with the sound of the keys dropping.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Studio! I'm getting up!'' I yelled back and couldn't help but grunt as I pulled myself up.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ With her voice getting closer, she replied, ''Really, babe? That does sound like some great news to come home to.'' She finally appeared in the door frame, still clad in her receptionist uniform. ''Look at you, making progress.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I scoffed and went towards her for an embrace which she welcomed. She patted my back as if to congratulate me and I let out a big sigh. Pulling away, she walked past me and sat on the stool, leaving me by the door.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''So... where's the major form?'' she asked, and for a moment I thought she was serious.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I-- I hadn't started with the actual--''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She chuckled, interrupting my anxious dialogue, and said, ''Aww, that's alright. Surely though, you've thought of something?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I took a sharp inhale and looked at the floor, ''Not really? But again, human form for sure.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''See, that's great!'' she exclaimed.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I still have no idea, really, I feel... '' I dwindled, searching for the appropriate word.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Probably because you haven't eaten. The left over in the fridge was supposed to be your lunch, silly.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Oh, yeah, sorry. I was... busy. As silly as that sounds.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''That's okay, I checked and I think that food is sufficient for the both of us tonight.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Is that alright?'' I asked, scratching the nape of my neck.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Yeah, I didn't expect you to cook,'' she said with a shrug. I didn't know what she was implying by that, but judging by her tone, it wasn't as passive-aggressive as I'd feared it could have been.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I would have asked her about dreams, but she never had any interest in dreams. She always forgot hers.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Getting off of the stool, she walked back to me. ''I'm proud of you, baby.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ With her hands on each side of my face, I stretched the corners of my lips to meet with the pads of her thumbs.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

I took the left side of the bed; where the nightstand was. This way I would be the one to turn off the alarm or the lamp, or be the one to place or pick up things for Hannah.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Laying on my side, facing the nightstand, I realised... I wasn't really full. No, I wasn't full at all. I ate very little as I was worried I'd be eating too much that nothing would be left for Hannah. Thankfully, she didn't have anything to say about the food; the quality nor the quantity.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Good night, babe,'' said Hannah, kissing me on the jaw from behind. I didn't sense that she was done with her skincare routine and had gone to bed. She pulled on the sheets that barely reached my feet. So, I curled up and brought my knees up closer to my stomach.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I reached for the lamp and shut it off. The clock read 23:40. I've been awake for twelve hours. And I did realise that that's a privilege, as others had it worse–or longer, rather.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Squeezing my eyes closed and burying my face in the pillow, I inhaled its scent. I always wondered if it was the pillowcase's or the feathers' scent that soothed me. For this, my breathing finally relaxed and as if the joints in my shoulders had dissolved. I fluttered my eyes open one last time that night before sleep and only saw the neon numbers that read 00:00. Perfect.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

The ground feels course on my bottom and the wind is blowing against me harder. I palm the ground and it's sand. I'm in a cave. Not too far along the cave, just right in the entrance. And I am facing the perfect view of the calm water.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I can't tell what time of the day it is. I tread closer to the small waves until I hear someone call me. I turn to my right and there stood a lady in a pink nightgown. ''What are you doing?'' she asks.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Swimming?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''In jeans?'' she asks, suppressing a laugh.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I look down at my bottoms and mutter to myself, ''I am a silly boy indeed.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Are you lost? You're wandering around again like a lost puppy,'' she asks me as I walk towards her.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Again?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Yes,'' she bows her head and looks at me over her eyebrows. ''Are you alright, Andy?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I'm... alright.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''You sound fazed.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Well, should we order food?'' I hand her the menu.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Excellent idea,'' says she. ''You must be hungry. The angels should deliver it from above.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Concerned, I tell her, ''But the high tide could snatch all the food? What a waste that'd be.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''We control the tide, you know that right? It won't touch us,'' she says, reassuringly.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Okay, then. Could we sit down somewhere?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Follow me." She leaves a trail of behaved baby crabs for me to follow.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She then disappears into a house on the shore... Hear me when I say déjà vu.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Where have I seen you before?'' I ask her as we sat on the patio swing. ''The telly?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''How could you have seen me in the telly?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I don't know...'' I say, pushing the swing back.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She turns her body to me, almost in excitement, and asks, ''Does it feel like a lucid dream? It does doesn't it?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Lucid dream? You're lucid dreaming?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''It's the only explanation I can think of. I mean I have so much control of... everything!''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Well," I look around me and back to her, "I don't.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Are you sure? The mere fact our conversation has been coherent and has gone on for this long... wouldn't you consider you have some control?'' she suggests.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I grip on a metal bar on the patio swing. The wind is then blowing my hair all over my face. Soon enough, her hair comes floating in front of me as well.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Woah, easy there, Andy,'' she pleads, her voice cracking.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''You're not doing the swinging aren't you?'' I tease.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''You damn well know I'm not,'' she giggles. She's going to be sick.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I never even knew patio swings could go this high--''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Or fast!'' she squeals.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Now I am in a hammock, between two coconut trees. ''Juno?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I'm here,'' she calls right beside me. ''You better be ready when I swing us.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Oh, no...''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Oh, yes...'' she sneers, taunting me.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Wait, I said Juno.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''So, you did and?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Did I just decide... Did I control that?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''No, I introduced myself, silly.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Introduced... by the cave in the beach?'' I ask, confused. I slide my fingers between the net.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''In my house, Andy. Long ago,'' she explains, playing with the loose ends of the tangled ropes of the hammock. ''You are one mess of a companion in this strange place, aren't you.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I sit up and repeat almost to myself, ''Companion?" I continue, "Okay, I'm lucid dreaming but where did you come from?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She puts her hands behind her head and says, ''Taking credit for the lucid dreaming now, are we?''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I'm confused...''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She sits up with me and the hammock wobbles to one side. ''I'm confused, too. But I've been here long enough–longer than you–and have adjusted to just not care anymore. But you,'' she points at me and pokes my chest. ''You are opening the can of worms!''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ Despite such conviction, she is still smiling and the lighthearted atmosphere is thankfully not gone yet, in my fears of this turning into a nightmare.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Okay...'' I say and continue, as if unrelenting, ''So where did you come from, Juno? Give me anything,'' I plead.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''See, I don't know... And I don't know you, either. I just came to accept you... whatever bewildered thing you are,'' she reveals.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''So, you don't know a thing...'' I utter, mostly to myself.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Well, I do know that you are Andy, I am Juno. We are in this... strange paradise, and we have endless possibilities. What is there to be worked up about?'' she declares, waving her arms around like a child.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ I lie back into the hammock and she lies down beside me.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ She continues, ''Could we not dwell on it and move on? What's the purpose? We may not be wasting time, but we might as well be wasting possibilities!''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Right. You're clearly the wise one here,'' I say, hoping I don't sound sarcastic because I do genuinely mean it.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Let your vibration flow,'' she begins. ''With pressure, the more you push down your frequency, and you'll be dense and heavier. Just let loose, Andy.''

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''I don't think I've ever had a conversation in my dreams before,'' I whisper.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ''Just let loose,'' Juno tells me.