sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
No. This is my dream - get your own.
It sounds like something splintering in his ears - like ice cracking, perhaps, or the creak of glass about to give way. Finn hums out another stream of bubbles, sitting up in his sea of colours and becoming distracted, momentarily, by the way his own hands float weightlessly across his field of vision.
Wrapped in pink and orange, the Spyglass kicks off the bottom of his pool, and the whole world buckles. Sucked away into blackness, until all the colour is gone, Finn retches up the remains of his ocean (has he been sick in his sleep? is he choking? would he know?) and finds himself on his knees in shards of mirror. All the faces in the shards are his own, but their eyes are a funny colour.
"Hello again," he whispers, reaching for a wicked sliver of himself. "You will never believe what I have done."
It sounds like something splintering in his ears - like ice cracking, perhaps, or the creak of glass about to give way. Finn hums out another stream of bubbles, sitting up in his sea of colours and becoming distracted, momentarily, by the way his own hands float weightlessly across his field of vision.
Wrapped in pink and orange, the Spyglass kicks off the bottom of his pool, and the whole world buckles. Sucked away into blackness, until all the colour is gone, Finn retches up the remains of his ocean (has he been sick in his sleep? is he choking? would he know?) and finds himself on his knees in shards of mirror. All the faces in the shards are his own, but their eyes are a funny colour.
"Hello again," he whispers, reaching for a wicked sliver of himself. "You will never believe what I have done."
FINN
