I Dont Understand The Whole No One Wants To Hear About The Dream You Had Last Night Thing Like??? Dreams

I don’t understand the whole “no one wants to hear about the dream you had last night” thing like??? dreams are so cool I love hearing people describe their dreams

Omg I’m going to cry because of this. This right here. This sentence means so much.

"the trauma made you kind" fuck that. no. i am kind because i cannot allow anyone to go through what i did. i am soft because i chose to be.

I’m absolutely in love with this idea✨

Mr Singh works at an office that is also the mind of a certain Alvin Weber. It needs to be understood here that the office itself is the mind of Alvin, and not a representation or epithet for it. Alvin Weber’s mind really does exist in a 55-year-old office building in South Mumbai.

Mr Singh mostly works at night, as Alvin is awake at that time for him. Alvin is not aware that his mind exists as an office on the other side of the world, but who can blame him? Even you don’t know something like that.

So without ever having met Alvin, Mr Singh stamps papers, taps on a keyboard, prints documents, and fills in forms with block letters, all of which is what Alvin thinks and doesn’t think.

Sometimes, Mr Singh takes the time to call his family. His wife lives in the suburbs, and she is employed as a receptionist at a bank. They talk about their relatives, and the neighbours, and sometimes even politics. Mr Singh spends little time reading the news, so it’s up to Mrs Singh to update him on what new scam or scandal has broken out in the country, what politician has switched parties, and how many soldiers have died on the front lines.

Mr Singh, for his part, keeps her updated on what’s going on in the USA. He isn’t allowed to tell anyone about what Alvin does or thinks, but he lets a few details slip nonetheless.

“They have their elections coming up soon,” he says on the phone, his bare feet resting on his desk. “It’s looking like a mess.”

Mrs Singh is well-informed, and she rattles off the names of candidates and political points. Mr Singh listens with arched eyebrows.

“I wasn’t aware of all that,” he says at last. “Alvin doesn’t care much for politics, you see.”

Then, Alvin wakes up in the night. He needs to take a piss, and Mr Singh hurriedly hangs up the call. He begins processing the thoughts that Alvin needs to think. Some of them come on the small, flat LCD screen that Mr Singh has in his office: it tells him that Alvin dreamt of a caveman chasing him with a cudgel.

Mr Singh walks up to an olive-green metal shelf and pulls out a file. Opening the file on the desk, he thumbs down the papers until he finds some words of reassurance stashed away in a paragraph.

With careful, error-less typing, Mr Singh types these words into his computer. He repeatedly looks up at the screen to check if he’s got the spellings right. By the time Alvin is in the bathroom, the reassurances are done, and Mr Singh prints them out, then files them away in another, green-patterned folder.

After a stamp and date, Mr Singh puts away the folder and decides that he won’t have to do any more work for a few hours still. He signs away a document marking that Alvin is okay to sleep now, and he photocopies it for the archives.

Then, he picks up the phone again and calls his wife, because he wants to tell her about how in American schools, you don’t have to wear uniforms.

Just in case

Too good to not reblog.

Human: Deal.

Fey: Very well. When you return home tonight, your mother will be in pristine health again. It will be like she never fell ill at all. Even the memory of her suffering will fade…

Human: Thank you so much. She means everything to me.

Fey: I know, I know. Let’s hope the price wasn’t too much for you after all… Only time will tell.

Human: So, when do we start?

Fey: …If I may ask you to elaborate?

Human: You said you wanted my firstborn.

Fey: Yes? And you agreed?

Human: Yeah, so, when do we start?

Fey:

Fey, blushing: Ah.

Me being both but feeling both these emotions at different times lol

Writing a story is so much harder than drawing it honestly I don’t know how authors do it