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#3 Tower of a Bleached World

Everything was white, with only a few shades of brown. Heaven? Of course not, it’s far from it. A small white room, with nothing more than a small opened window and a large painting covering half of the wall opposite said window, in a tall white tower. The tower distantly resembled one in a certain fairy tale involving an insanely long haired princess. Everything seemed almost stop motion, as if time was crawling like a turtle rather than flying like an arrow. It’s quiet, almost mute, the only noise being my thoughts. Four women, including myself were present. I was in my earlier stages of a teenager and they were young, around their early thirties. I was standing in the middle of the room next to one of the women. I’ve never seen her before –I’ve never seen anyone in the room before- but I knew she was my mother. We were talking in a muted fashion. We were talking to each other yet I didn’t hear any words.

Somewhere in our ‘conversation’ I looked up to my right to see the painting. I don’t remember what painting it was, I was too busy looking at the woman hanging beside it on the wall. ‘She’s my grandmother’, my thoughts informed me. My mother was talking to her while I just stared. I wasn’t scared, or shocked, not concerned, I wasn’t even thinking of anything. I just looked at her. Maybe I was just a tad bit curious. I blinked and when I opened my eyes all I saw was white. My mind was slowly registering my position and surroundings. I was upside down. I looked up to see the small window of the tower. Oh. I was hanging upside down outside of the tower from the window. But my feet weren’t the ones keeping me from falling, nor were there any ropes. It was like I was just hanging there with nothing supporting me. Wait, it wasn’t my body. It was my great grandmother’s body. I was looking through her eyes.

Nothing came after that, the end, fin, not to be continued.

I don’t remember when I woke up, how I felt, or what I thought of. I remember that I definitely was not scared, angry, sad, nor happy. Maybe a little confused, I’m not sure. When I think of it, I don’t know why we were in a tower and why everything was white. What the painting was, why my great grandmother was the only one outside of the tower. Was it a symbol? Was it because she’s the only one who isn’t around anymore? The ‘world’ itself was quite weird, what with everything being white and all, as if almost everything in it were bleached.

End –Ch. 3

AGH!! This is so late!! DX I’m very sorry guys, and it’s really short too.. ;A; Anyway, this is the third chapter of Fragments of Dreams and the last one FOR NOW. I haven’t had any interesting dreams (nor can I remember any) so this story will be in a hiatus until I can remember an interesting enough dream or if I dream of something proper (I mean this in more than one meaning)… 😛 So, yeah, sorry.. T__T Thanks 🙂

B.o.S. (begrudgingly) over ‘n out!

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