Ahh...
My head hurts...
Cyris Neal woke up from a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. He looked around and noticed that he was still in the office.
Suddenly he felt an intense headache. as if his head was going to explode.
"Where did I put the painkillers again..."
He looked for the painkillers on his desk but It wasn't there. Then he remembered it was inside of his bag so he looked down under his desk where his bag lay on the floor. He grabbed the bag and placed it on his lap. He then pulled the zipper of his bag and took out a bottle of painkillers.
As Cyris Neal popped the lid open. He felt another sharp sense of pain in his head. He tried to take a pill, but nothing came out of the bottle of painkillers.
"Really... Right when I needed it the most..."
As Cyris Neal stood up from his desk. The bag on his lap fell to the ground. The items inside his bag spilt out. He held the empty bottle of painkillers tightly in his right hand and decided to go wash his face.
Step... Step...
Cyris Neal placed his palm on his head as he slowly walked toward the restroom. He threw the empty bottle of painkillers into the trash can outside the restroom.
He then entered the restroom and walked towards the faucet turning the handle, letting the water flow.
Rippling
He splashed water onto his face and looked into the mirror trying to remember what just happened.
More specifically, what happened in his dream.
...
(This part of the story is not yet finished)
In Cyris's dream, he encountered an unknown figure. Or perhaps... a being—an entity beyond comprehension. Its face was shrouded in darkness, and a long robe cloaked its entire body. Concealing it's face and identity.
Cyris Neal looked around this strange place. It was foggy. He looked below him and even his feet is covered by this thick fog.
"What is this place?"
Cyris looked at the entity Infront of him. While staying calm and composed.
"This place is called a dreamscape... It's nice to meet you Cyris Neal..."
The mysterious figure stepped closer towards Cyris.
"Who are you?"
Cyris asked while trying to make sense of what is happening.
"I am-
(This part of the story is not yet finished)
...
At present.
Cyris Neal no longer felt any headache. There was no longer any pain in his head. He splashed more water on his face before turning off the faucet and taking a towel out of his pocket to wipe his face.
"What kind of sick dream was that..."
"Perhaps I'm just tired from overworking myself... I should head back and get some rest."
Cyris Neal returned to his desk and knelt down to pick up the items that had fallen out of his bag.
As he gathered his things, he realized he was holding a four-leaf clover pendant—the one his mother had given him before she died in the car accident.
A faint smile crossed his face, but it faded quickly, replaced by sadness. He rose to his feet and looked at his desk.
On the corner of the desk sat a flower pot, and beside it was a framed photo of his family taken when he was ten years old.
In the middle of the desk were a computer, a keyboard, and a mouse. On the opposite side, books and documents were neatly arranged.
Cyris Neal slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way back to his apartment safely.
As he entered, Cyris Neal was greeted by the familiar sight of his modest apartment. It was small and simple. The living room shared space with a compact kitchen, while a narrow hallway led to a tiny bathroom on the left and a small bedroom on the right.
Cyris Neal stepped inside the apartment and set his bag down by the door before heading to his bedroom. At the centre of the room stood his bed. To the left of it was a small desk, while on the right stood a dressing mirror and a modest closet.
He walked over to the bed, plopped down, and closed his eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.