Chapter 3: Why are you so cruel to me, author?
He dreamt of floating in the dark expanse, with sprinkles of something that looked like shining powders all around. They glowed, some dim, and some bright, looking like stars inside a spacious galaxy.
And then he realized that he was one of the powders, a speck of little light. Only, he was neither shining dimly nor brightly. He was broken. There were cracks all over his abstract form, like porcelain smacked into the ground.
While he was wondering what this was, a shining orb floated in front of him. For some reason, though, it felt familiar. No, not familiar, it felt like a mirror. Like they were the same things—like they were supposed to be the same thing, the same entity. He reached out to the orb with his consciousness, and suddenly the orb flew towards him, and sunk itself into his existence.
Somewhere among the darkness, watchful eyes looked upon him; keenly, sadly, eagerly.
* * *
It took a while for me to realize where I was.
The ceiling was not only unfamiliar, but also way more lavish than I used to. There were delicate carvings of sophisticated craftmanship adorned the ceiling. As I blinked my eyes to consciousness, the softness of the mattress and pillow propping my body came to my senses.
I had never slept in a place this comfortable before, whether it was this life or the one before.
My immediate response to this comfort was to roll my body in delight, wondering where I was and whether or not I can prolong my stay. There was a very nice, very warm, very comfortable blanket that I dove into, as I tried to remember how and why I was there.
Except that I didn't really have to think about it.
Why? Because the answer was there on the bed, right before me, as my rolled body crashed into it.