Why am I having dreams like that? Like THAT, I mean.

I don't mean the dreams in general, most of which aren't even bad, just...annoying.

Eugene ranting about his sunglasses, Eric bitching about his damned cottage cheese, shit that's otherwise as insignificant as those little miracles Mikal accused me of being obsessed with. This was different...much different.

This wasn't just the typical "dreaming it didn't really happen and I'm still there" type of dream, this was me actively returning there. Dream me had downed a bunch of pills and gotten myself back there.

I know coming back wasn't exactly what one might expect it to be, and I've made my peace with that...but did part of me, subconsciously, not wanna be back? Maybe part of me just never left that place, and probably never will.

Maybe I'm just doomed to question my subconscious until I die normally and end up God knows where.

I look up from mindlessly scrolling through the TV guide on the couch, toward the sound of Luna's collar jangling and nails click click clicking against the floor, and spot Mikal following shortly behind her.

She smiles when she sees me. "Morning, Z." she yawns, sleepily.

"Morning, Babe. Sleep good?"

"Better than you, it looks like." she answers. "You're up early, everything okay?"

"Yeah, nothing particularly interesting." I lie. No use getting her all worked up over a dream I was probably overreacting to. "Just couldn't get back to sleep is all."

She seems to buy it. "You want some breakfast?" she asks.

"Well, if you're making it anyways." I shrug. "I wanted to come up there in a few and surprise you with breakfast in bed, for once."

"You're sweet. I don't mind though, I like cooking."

"If you insist. Thanks."

She leads Luna into the next room, where she lets her out the back door to run around the yard and go potty, while she makes breakfast without Luna's begging eyes guilting her at every turn."

"So what'd you dream last night?" Mikal asks when I sit down with my plate. "When I woke you up, you said it was better than getting yelled at by Eugene" she explains, with a chuckle, after reading my slightly confused expressions.

"Right" I answer, through a bite of my food. "Typical Eugene bullshit, you know. Although I'm pretty sure it was his hat this time, that I dropped down that hole." I lie. I'm still afraid of how she might worry about me if I tell her what I really dreamt and mulling over if I should just tell her eventually anyways.

"Say what you want about those damned songs of his" she smirks. "I sure don't miss that from him."

"Yeah, me neither." I chuckle. "I'll do without having to hear that any day."

"I mean, I like Eugene and all, but maybe it's for the best that we're a whole..." she struggles for the word. "World? Afterlife? Universe?" she shakes her head. "Whatever you wanna call it, apart."

"You did not, you liar." I object. "You couldn't stand Eugene."

"...alright, I tolerated him." she laughs. "Happy?"

"Very." I smirk.

"Just eat your pancakes." she sighs.

"Yes ma'am." I tease.

She raises the spatula she's using, to serve herself, in a teasing back gesture at me.