Eyes shoot open.
Eyes wandering around a room full of movie posters and mess.
It's the room of a 13 year old. The same exact one you slept in 5 years ago.
You wander around and turn on the lights to look around again.
You spot something on your drawer.
A cake and a note.
The moment you read the note, you felt a tear drip down your face.
Happy birthday son. I am so proud of you.
You quickly run out of your room to a clean, harlequin filled hallway and make your way downstairs to more harlequins in your living room. You hear a loud DING and run into the kitchen.
The person in your kitchen surprises you even more than ever. You wouldn't believe how much you missed him, but it's true.
Your father stands in the kitchen taking out a cake.
However, he doesn't notice your presence, even when he faces your way. You realize something that upsets you even more than the note.
This is probably just a dream.
You can't hug him. You know it's just a fucking dream, a stupid fucking dream. You fall to your knees and cover your face with your hands. You miss your father so much, you've started dreaming about him again. You suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder.
"What's wrong, son?" your father says.
You stand up and hug him, really tight.
"I love you, Dad." you say as everything disappears into nothingness.
It was just a dream.