A/N: :) Thank you so much oh wonderful readers of mine! Don't worry, all things shall be revealed, all I can say is keep reading ;) Unlike my previous fics, I'm going to try to limit Author notes unless it's vital - which it usually isn't.

Chapter 2

I wish that the dreams gave me clarity, or even peace. But all they did, when I'd awaken, was leave me feeling even more empty as I stared at my bare fingers. Now I curse the day, only because it increased my longing for the dream world.

One that was filled with my mysterious dream girl.

My desperation grew, and so did the number of occurrences as they stemmed from my thoughts; a projection of my desire.

I have yet to figure out who my fiance is, or who is engaged to dream girl – the name I "creatively" came up with to refer to the woman in my dream. She doesn't seem bothered by this. In fact, dream girl seems quite content to spend her days with me. And though I'm curious about the identity of my fiance, dream girl's warm eyes blur that want, shifting it into a feeling that rests fuzzily in my stomach, though not unpleasantly so.

My mother is becoming worried; I've rejected any further matchmaking attempts, convincing myself my dream will reveal Mr. Right to me.

Frankly, I'm worried too.

It's not normal – or healthy – to pine for the unconscious world, but I'm unable to control it. Or myself. And maybe that's what's so enticing about it, you know? Being able to let go, finally, and let my dream dictate its course.

It's refreshing.

The predictability found in my dreams is strangely comforting, completely opposite of my daytime life. And it's this predictability that I crave. This time with DG – dream girls less formal name – that is only found in my dreams, the only time I feel like I'm genuinely smiling. Like maybe all along I was visually learning about smiling for some one, and until she came along, I didn't realize that I was a kinesthetic learner, needing to actually physically experience it to understand.

Because maybe I never wanted to learn how to truly smile until I met her.

I've stopped keeping track of my dreams. As if numerically recording them makes this more concrete, a defined obsession instead of merely a repeated pleasant image – life's highlights on constant replay.

Dream girl's eyes are twinkling again, and since her eyes are not locked with mine, I know that the only other explanation is that they are caught on her left hand, resting where her ring dutifully and reliably sits.

A smile makes its way across my own lips as I watch her, feeling that familiar twitch in my stomach, the rush of sensations that's just as predictable and as dependable as the presence of a ring on my own finger.

So I wait, a mental countdown occurring as I anxiously wait for her eyes to meet mine, just like they always do, smile growing bigger and bigger on my face. Just like it always does.

And in five seconds, like clock work, her eyes have found mine, and the fluttering has intensified so much, that somehow I can barely feel it, though I know it's there.

Her eyes leave mine only to watch my smile, as if reassuring herself that mine matches the one she's wearing; its equal partner in size and tenderness, conveying unspoken words we've obviously exchanged before, outside of my cognitive mind.

As usual, she pulls me into a firm hug, one that feels ten times warmer as her closeness consumes me. One that feels ten times softer as I can feel her smile against my hair. It's these moments that make me loath reality, simply for the reason that they are devoid of this. Of her.

I can't help but wonder if narcolepsy is something that is often coveted by others. Perhaps those with insomnia, who would rather find sleep at random times than not at all.

But I don't have insomnia – thank God. I can't imagine what my life would be like it I wasn't able to sleep. Wasn't able to create my fantasy, because that's surely what it is; a fantasy. I'm not naïve enough to believe it's my future. Maybe that's why I long for the subconscious world so much, wanting what I can't have in real life.

In my dreams, I say all the right thing – or at least by dream girl's standards. In my dreams, I have a companion, whose smile I'm convinced was made just for me. But then, as I remember the ring on her finger, I know her smile isn't mine. Nothing of hers is. Just half of the rent.

And I wonder, why dreams that are so fulfilling, can leave me feeling more empty than when I went to bed. Because the grass is greener on the other side, and I don't like the previews I'm being given. I'm not thankful of the window I'm allowed to look through, just to have the curtains drawn moments later.

But I am jealous of the smiles I get, because even though there's warmth radiating off of them, it can't compare to the light radiating off her ring, simultaneously blinding me with it's beauty, and opening my eyes to the truth.

She's taken.

Her glances at my ring remind me.

I'm taken.

And suddenly, my dreams aren't as pleasing as I thought.

For once I think I'll prefer the misery of real life. The one without two pieces of jewelry binding two people, just not to each other.