05-28-2017, 10:35 AM
Before he woke up, Sun was dreaming about home.
He wasn’t doing anything in his dream. He was just sleeping on his bed, back in his room. He had rolled up into his bedsheets and formed an unusual hybrid of a croissant and a caterpillar shape, drool edging out from the side of his mouth and onto his pillow as he tossed and turned in his slumber, seeking a more comfortable spot on the bed. At the time, he didn’t consider the paradoxical nature of the dream. Instead, his dream-self rested, enjoying the warmth of his blanket, the tropical breeze that coasted through his open window, the salty smell of the sea, and the rhythmic pulses of the ocean.
He missed his bed. It wasn’t like he could sleep at his old place anymore, given his role as Champion of Alola. The bedroom inside the League building was cozy and all, but there was something about it that was lacking. He had eventually chalked it up to how sterile it seemed; the bedsheets were always washed and always folded nicely; the mattress never sagged from overuse; the pillow was always starched and cleaned of his drool. As soon as he could break it in, it was if he was back at the beginning, when he had to move out of his own home and into the building itself. That was a feeling he could never get past: how unfamiliar it was, and it was only exacerbated by the realization of his new responsibility as Champion. He welcomed it nonetheless, but there were times where all he wanted to do was forget all responsibility and go back home to his Mom. At least then he could hide himself from the spotlight that was always on him. Maybe that was why he liked to sleep. He didn’t have to hide anything when he dreamed, as the only ones who would know would be his own imagination. When he closed his eyes and drifted off, he could be enraptured by the feeling of comfort everyday life could not give him.
But when he opened his eyes this time, he did not find himself on a bed. As he awoke from the depths of sleep, the only thing he saw was a massive canvas of white.
At first, he thought he had moved from one dream into another. There was the familiar sea salt smell in the air, and he could hear water pound against the edges of his makeshift bed: a silver altar. The only thing that was missing were the calming winds of Alola and the warmth of his blanket, both of which he chalked up to the very nature of his dream preventing such feelings from being noticeable. Indeed, the sudden change of scenery was enough to make him laugh. He had never had a dreamscape like this one before, or ever had a pair of dreams as inconsistent in tone. He decided to test out his dream-legs by exploring the new environment, lifting himself up from the altar.
His legs fell asleep halfway through his attempt to rise. He tumbled headfirst into the pool of water surrounding the base of the altar. The coldness of the liquid combined with the stinging of his eyes and tongue as it seeped into his face was enough to snap him out of his sleep-induced haze.
He shot up from the ground, stumbling, water splashing and staining his clothes. He sputtered and gasped, spitting out as much of the salt water as he could. It wasn’t until then did he realize that he was no longer dreaming, that nothing he saw was of his own imagination. He wasn’t at the League building anymore. He wasn’t at home anymore.
Alola was gone. Professor Kukui, gone. Hau, gone. Mom, gone. All of his Pokemon, gone.
He darted his head around, eyes red and widened as he searched desperately to find something, anything, that could call back the memories of Alola, of home, within the seemingly endless desert of white. He circled the altar, his heart pounding as all sense of logic escaped him. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even do that; his brain had shut down, overwhelmed by confusion and despair.
Tears formed in his eyes and snot ran down his nose as he finally conjured up the willpower to form the words he so badly wanted to say. Stopping in front of the altar, he shouted to the heavens above.
“M-Mom!” he cried, no longer able to stop himself from bawling, “Ku-Kukui! Hau! So-Somebody! An-Any-Anybody…”
No one replied. Even the foreknowledge that no one would possibly reply didn’t stop him from collapsing on the spot. He fell onto his knees, cupped his hands to his face, and sobbed.
He wasn’t doing anything in his dream. He was just sleeping on his bed, back in his room. He had rolled up into his bedsheets and formed an unusual hybrid of a croissant and a caterpillar shape, drool edging out from the side of his mouth and onto his pillow as he tossed and turned in his slumber, seeking a more comfortable spot on the bed. At the time, he didn’t consider the paradoxical nature of the dream. Instead, his dream-self rested, enjoying the warmth of his blanket, the tropical breeze that coasted through his open window, the salty smell of the sea, and the rhythmic pulses of the ocean.
He missed his bed. It wasn’t like he could sleep at his old place anymore, given his role as Champion of Alola. The bedroom inside the League building was cozy and all, but there was something about it that was lacking. He had eventually chalked it up to how sterile it seemed; the bedsheets were always washed and always folded nicely; the mattress never sagged from overuse; the pillow was always starched and cleaned of his drool. As soon as he could break it in, it was if he was back at the beginning, when he had to move out of his own home and into the building itself. That was a feeling he could never get past: how unfamiliar it was, and it was only exacerbated by the realization of his new responsibility as Champion. He welcomed it nonetheless, but there were times where all he wanted to do was forget all responsibility and go back home to his Mom. At least then he could hide himself from the spotlight that was always on him. Maybe that was why he liked to sleep. He didn’t have to hide anything when he dreamed, as the only ones who would know would be his own imagination. When he closed his eyes and drifted off, he could be enraptured by the feeling of comfort everyday life could not give him.
But when he opened his eyes this time, he did not find himself on a bed. As he awoke from the depths of sleep, the only thing he saw was a massive canvas of white.
At first, he thought he had moved from one dream into another. There was the familiar sea salt smell in the air, and he could hear water pound against the edges of his makeshift bed: a silver altar. The only thing that was missing were the calming winds of Alola and the warmth of his blanket, both of which he chalked up to the very nature of his dream preventing such feelings from being noticeable. Indeed, the sudden change of scenery was enough to make him laugh. He had never had a dreamscape like this one before, or ever had a pair of dreams as inconsistent in tone. He decided to test out his dream-legs by exploring the new environment, lifting himself up from the altar.
His legs fell asleep halfway through his attempt to rise. He tumbled headfirst into the pool of water surrounding the base of the altar. The coldness of the liquid combined with the stinging of his eyes and tongue as it seeped into his face was enough to snap him out of his sleep-induced haze.
He shot up from the ground, stumbling, water splashing and staining his clothes. He sputtered and gasped, spitting out as much of the salt water as he could. It wasn’t until then did he realize that he was no longer dreaming, that nothing he saw was of his own imagination. He wasn’t at the League building anymore. He wasn’t at home anymore.
Alola was gone. Professor Kukui, gone. Hau, gone. Mom, gone. All of his Pokemon, gone.
He darted his head around, eyes red and widened as he searched desperately to find something, anything, that could call back the memories of Alola, of home, within the seemingly endless desert of white. He circled the altar, his heart pounding as all sense of logic escaped him. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t even do that; his brain had shut down, overwhelmed by confusion and despair.
Tears formed in his eyes and snot ran down his nose as he finally conjured up the willpower to form the words he so badly wanted to say. Stopping in front of the altar, he shouted to the heavens above.
“M-Mom!” he cried, no longer able to stop himself from bawling, “Ku-Kukui! Hau! So-Somebody! An-Any-Anybody…”
No one replied. Even the foreknowledge that no one would possibly reply didn’t stop him from collapsing on the spot. He fell onto his knees, cupped his hands to his face, and sobbed.