In a world splintered by pixels, the shadows whisper secrets of another time. Memories flicker like neon signs in a forgotten alleyway, guiding lost souls through the twilight hour.
Nina remembered the day her dreams became confused — the ceiling swirled in patterns of unending fractals, as if it were a canvas of electric paint shedding its skin. Time was static, yet it danced in erratic rhythms, calling her closer to the rivulets of water that glimmered beneath her feet.
Every night, she walked through the door of possibility, peeling back the layers of her own existence. The digits on clocks formed cosmic shapes. Reflections bled into one another, and she often forgot where the dream ended and reality began. A pixelated door opened to endless hues, a glitch of dimension where time created infinite pathways.
The apparition of her father, smiling softly, drifted past her shimmering like a mirage. It was all quite beautiful yet painfully ephemeral. “Remember,” he’d say, “Not all whispers belong to the wind; some are stitched into the fabric of your being."
Yet each morning, she cast herself back into warmth, longing for the touch of the surreal; the mundane became an artist's palette, every color a fragment of her subconscious yearning.
Could these disjointed dreams be pieces of an unfinished puzzle, fragments grasping for coherence?
Peek into Other Worlds | Slices of Memories