Deception of Reality

Every few weeks I would visit my family, or more like whenever I felt like it. My brother still lived with my parents, but he will be moving out soon; he had informed us that when he will get a stable job, and find a decent apartment, he will move out. I had offered him to come and live with me, but he had refused, he said that he wanted to be independent and prove to his parents that he is capable of taking care of himself.

My parents had often told me that I should come back and live with them, they were worried that one day I might seriously harm myself because of my disability, but I wouldn't really call hallucinations and lucid dreaming a disability, it's more like having a very vivid imagination.

I was seated in our living room; it held a lot of unforgettable memories of when I was still just a child. Me and my brother had scarred this room many times while playing, or simply being careless; the gray wallpaper, in which you could see a hint of green in the right lighting, held a few smudges and fingerprints that my parents failed to either notice, or get rid of.

The dark beige couch I was sitting on was covered in flowery and swirly patterns that were just a slightly lighter shade of beige. The armrests were worn and slightly tattered with some of the material been torn off, and the wood that runs across the bottom of the couch and it's armrests had scratches scattered around it, if you looked closely you could also see some small dents.

I remember how a lot of these got here, such as the small chip in the glass of the coffee table was made when I hit a lego a bit too hard, and that smudge that wont wash off from the white curtains was made when I had stuffed my face with blueberries, and then accidentally wiped my hands in it.

It made me smile just thinking about all these happy memories, but it wasn't just all happy chappy stuff in here. There was this one time where I managed to break one of my fingers because I got it stuck in one of the holes in the floor, it has now been covered up by a carpet that is in some shade of brown that fits with the color scheme.

I have stubbed my toe many times because of this coffee table, I have tripped over the carpet, of which three of those times I can remember clearly, and I have stepped on countless legos that had either been left by me or my brother.

I remember my first proper scolding as clear as a day; my mum had been furious when she found out that I had smashed one of her precious vases, apparently it was a gift from her late godmother, though I'm still not entirely sure about it, but I wasn't going to bring that back up again.

"So how have you been holding up?" My dad asked me when we were seated at the dining table, which we had set up roughly around 10 minutes ago.
"Yeah, its all fine" I couldn't exactly tell them that it was getting worse, because if I did, I would for sure be forced to come back and live with them.

About half an hour later, when we had finished eating and had discussed nearly everything that had happened this week, we had helped my mum clean everything up, even though she had insisted that she would do it all on her own.

My bedroom in this house had been left untouched; all of the stuff that I had left here hadn't been disturbed in the least, everything was exactly were I had left it. It was comforting to know that I always had a place to come back to, if I ever had the need to.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Came the voice of my brother from my door frame; always the nosy one in the family. He just had to know everything, if he had a feeling something was wrong, he would make sure that he would get to the bottom of it.
"Why wouldn't I be"

"I don't know man, you just seem so tired and timid"
"I stayed up late, I was writing"

"Yeah, but a person doesn't look so tired after only one sleep deprived night"
"Well, I don't know then"

"Oh, I know you do"
I had taken a few seconds to think; I knew my brother far too well, to know that he wont give up until he gets an answer he is satisfied with. I could leave him with a vague answer, but I remember the last time I did it, he used ruthless ways to discover the whole truth.

"Promise not to tell mum and dad?"
"How old do you think I am? Wait... don't answer that question" He added the last part after seeing my smirk, that just instantly meant that I was ready to throw a sarcastic comment, which normally ended up with a small, mock argument, no matter who the person was.

"Ok, well, it all started with this one reoccurring dream, I was basically drowning, and then this one person saves me but I have no idea who he is because I cant see him. Then one day, by the way I can't tell if its real or not, this one guy saves me from being hit by a car, and I swear to God, it was him.-"
"How do you know?"

"I was getting there!"
"Alright, sorry"

"Its the feeling his hand gave off, its the same as when he was dragging me out of the water. Anyway, just recently, and again, I have no idea if it was real or not, I saw him again, and this time I decided to run after him, and so I ran in to an amusement park, and then in to a haunted house. I started freaking out, and the next thing I knew I was back in my room"
"Sounds like a dream to me"

"Yeah, but it felt so real"
"Doesn't sound it"

"Its the feeling that counts!"
I watched as my brother left with an amused expression. Damn him, I don't need him to believe me, all that counts is that I know.

---

I had returned back to my own home after spending a weekend at my parents house, and with opening the fridge I realized that it had been a while since I've been grocery shopping.

I grabbed my wallet and my keys, and headed out of the door towards the local supermarket. I lived relatively close, so it didn't take me longer than 10 minutes to walk there.

Going through the isles, I quietly hummed to myself when I saw no one else was around me, but the basked I was holding had nearly slipped out of my hands when I saw someone, who I never expected to see here, walk past at one end of the isle.