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YorifielVol.2: The Last Mirth Of My Happiness. If you've reached this point then that's wonderful!
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Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 73: “Here We Are, Back Together Again.” (Part 1)
Amidst all the things that happened in the past months, nothing has changed, even a tiny change in the world. The world is still a monochromatic place that we call on as life. Life is flourishing with new faces of people living in this world. Is that their persona? Or was it their faces? I’m still uncomfortable to see the faces of different people living in this world. Seclusion… I’ve probably done it as we’ve got back. I'm playing the violin. An instrument that I found inside a case filled with normal papers and some other crumpled papers tainted with a black and indecipherable letter. Flure was staring at me as I played the notes the same way as it was written. {Hello, since this is the beginning of a new story, my life purpose isn’t complete yet. There was something that I was supposed to do last month, but I decided not to do it since I’m currently preoccupied with the violin. I decided to play this instrument to learn more about the original me. I want to know how amazing I was.
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 74: “Here We Are, Back Together Again.” (Part 2)
Droplets of water on the shower head continue to fall in a second interval. It resounded between the empty monochromatic walls of the bathroom, creating a rhythmic sound. A melodic hymn that resonated in the depths of my heart as if it was part of my bow. Time is a toxic trait that encourages me to turn my eyes to the cycle of life. A toxic devolve of imaginary people playing along in your head as you indulge in the hobby you picked up. It’s probably a bad idea to focus on oneself and forget the others as you go on your journey without thinking of your friends. We couldn’t live on our own since no man is said to be an island. Friends is like a sweet orange. It tastes great when you pick it up at the right time. You’ll know that it's good when the scent can be smelled even without peeling it. But if we decide to forget them, they’ll start to rot and lose their patience and will choose to cut out all ties. Thankfully, my friends aren’t like that, and I’m glad to have them. Haah… Rela
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 75: Abelard The Wise
→ The story revolves around the wondrous epiphany of a tower. Life, flourishing. Living is detrimental. Souls, unbothered. Killing was a wonder. Death is attrition. → On the contrary. The tower expresses its gratitude towards you as the person who lifted the heights of impertinence. How truly satisfying. Humans would be filled with sorrow and revulsion from the serpentine consciousness of human life to the place called “dreams.” →The precipitous pathway along the twisted vision of scrumptious desire for asceticism on top of the tower. Ascending a top to receive the holy retribution of everlasting gaiety, searching for something, creating something, and dying for nothing. ***** My body drifts away to the field of white egret flowers, slowly drifting to a door where the sun radiates a much brighter light. Ahh…It’s not a place filled with darkness. Memoirs of the past constantly hunt me among the path of emptiness, which has changed to a light that fills that void—caressing my head
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 76: The Flower Bed For The Deceased
“Ah. Your future is yet to be determined, slowly fiddling amassed of different consciousness.” He slowly raised his right arm and swayed it around. “You can hear it—the voices of the world. Slowly drawing you in the far shore. Leering fear. Captivating.” The winds blew as fast as the bird's flight. It only lasted for about a second, as if teasing you with its cold and hapless emotion. As I listened to Abelard’s talk, my chest began to beat a little bit faster. “You’re still a child. Although in mind. Your soul is pure, filled with endless desire, but filled with storm—a strong will to live and be born anew.” “What do you mean by that?” I asked. “It means that you’re a soul filled with avarice. You’re soul is white as pure but tainted with avarice. That’s what I’ll say to you.” He began to change his foresight. The world began to shape and change as if he was altering it. “Ah. You’re a lost cause of humanity living amongst ye humans. How’d you wandered here, I wonder.” Abelard sai
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 77: "It's The Little Thing We Have In Life That Makes Us Happy."
Amid life's equation, death blooms, and music and illumination emanate from the gentle glow that encompasses everyone and cherishes them all. A sun as pale as the souls of everyone hides in the corner, embracing everyone at the tower's entrance. Turning around, I saw kids my age eagerly making their way up to the tower, aspirations and dreams stoked by the blaze of desire. “Self conquers the first and of victory.” was engraved over the entryway of the tower. Symbols of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit fuel the tower's surroundings. Recognition of the God revered by the tower's creator. A profound line of teaching that adorns the tower with the creator's immense pleasure and joy, signifying his love for his God. Then, I noticed two colossal rings encircling outside the boundary of this world. Nothing within my line of sight allowed a clear view of the distant structures where this tower was constructed; only the children walking towards the entrance and the sand they tread upon we
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 78: "Metamorphosis."
Flure’s POV: The colors I see in my eyes are strange. Spheres of various colors floated around, with cogs and rings shaping it into a watch-like structure. I could tell the time of people merely by gazing at the colors that everyone emits in this unique eye that I have. I've watched many people's time pass and disappear, just to be replaced by a door of a different hue and structure. I cursed my eyes because even if they could see the colors and the remaining time of everyone, it wasn't useful and only distracted me from the world. The doors of the dead, which come out of nowhere, have an eye-catching green and black radiance. Opening it leads to another world, the person's life etched on the door. My eyes aren't beneficial. It became the foundation of shame and dread I tried so hard to conceal it under my cheerful smile and quips. Whenever I see a clock on a person's haze that emanates a brilliant glow, I can sense the end of their time, revealing a stopwatch. I tried to catch it,
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Prologue:
The paths that were remain unchanged, to the fate that holds the living. A goal that one pursues but doesn’t exist. The incarnation of a new God that creates an endless dream for all who adore thy fate. Thoughts that were unwilling to cooperate to a better place we called dreams of all. A desire that we pursue to keep one’s mind satisfied, to keep one’s sanity intact. The coming of a newborn, destroyer of the old recursion of fate. Habits that will all die, to the one that holds the future of all. Pre-written in the Codex of Sinaiticus, the coming of a God that shall destroy the world's creation and keep peace to all the humans that created the concept of happiness. The emotions of all human beings are bottled in a single container of lies created for the satisfaction of all, born as a man, a scattered soul all throughout the universe. Different reincarnations, different pasts, different lives. Same story, same friends, same sadness, same death. In a pre-destined world, they are creat
Why Are My Dreams Realistic? Chapter 1: To You, From Another Me. To The Perspective Of You.
Different noise, different topics to pass the time. The combined idiocracy of having to talk with each other about themselves. The chattering sound of the students in one classroom talking about many things from their personal lives and sharing it with their friends alike, happily smiling with each other, laughing together.Students talk to each other as if they were friends a long time ago. They greeted and waved at each other with different handshakes. Changing their aura and the tone of their voice to fit into a circle of friends. Voicing out their likings to one another and smiling alongside trust of knowing the greatness of life.“Hey! Have you heard of that latest game that is so trending right now!?” A boy with blonde hair said as he happily talked with another boy in front of him.“What game? Ah! Are you referring to that game!? Moonlit Saga 2?” A boy came rushing from the entrance.“Yes, that one! You know it, Kira?”“Yes, yes! Of course, I know it! I’m a fan of it!” Akira sai
Latest Chapter
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 78: "Metamorphosis."
Flure’s POV: The colors I see in my eyes are strange. Spheres of various colors floated around, with cogs and rings shaping it into a watch-like structure. I could tell the time of people merely by gazing at the colors that everyone emits in this unique eye that I have. I've watched many people's time pass and disappear, just to be replaced by a door of a different hue and structure. I cursed my eyes because even if they could see the colors and the remaining time of everyone, it wasn't useful and only distracted me from the world. The doors of the dead, which come out of nowhere, have an eye-catching green and black radiance. Opening it leads to another world, the person's life etched on the door. My eyes aren't beneficial. It became the foundation of shame and dread I tried so hard to conceal it under my cheerful smile and quips. Whenever I see a clock on a person's haze that emanates a brilliant glow, I can sense the end of their time, revealing a stopwatch. I tried to catch it,
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 77: "It's The Little Thing We Have In Life That Makes Us Happy."
Amid life's equation, death blooms, and music and illumination emanate from the gentle glow that encompasses everyone and cherishes them all. A sun as pale as the souls of everyone hides in the corner, embracing everyone at the tower's entrance. Turning around, I saw kids my age eagerly making their way up to the tower, aspirations and dreams stoked by the blaze of desire. “Self conquers the first and of victory.” was engraved over the entryway of the tower. Symbols of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit fuel the tower's surroundings. Recognition of the God revered by the tower's creator. A profound line of teaching that adorns the tower with the creator's immense pleasure and joy, signifying his love for his God. Then, I noticed two colossal rings encircling outside the boundary of this world. Nothing within my line of sight allowed a clear view of the distant structures where this tower was constructed; only the children walking towards the entrance and the sand they tread upon we
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 76: The Flower Bed For The Deceased
“Ah. Your future is yet to be determined, slowly fiddling amassed of different consciousness.” He slowly raised his right arm and swayed it around. “You can hear it—the voices of the world. Slowly drawing you in the far shore. Leering fear. Captivating.” The winds blew as fast as the bird's flight. It only lasted for about a second, as if teasing you with its cold and hapless emotion. As I listened to Abelard’s talk, my chest began to beat a little bit faster. “You’re still a child. Although in mind. Your soul is pure, filled with endless desire, but filled with storm—a strong will to live and be born anew.” “What do you mean by that?” I asked. “It means that you’re a soul filled with avarice. You’re soul is white as pure but tainted with avarice. That’s what I’ll say to you.” He began to change his foresight. The world began to shape and change as if he was altering it. “Ah. You’re a lost cause of humanity living amongst ye humans. How’d you wandered here, I wonder.” Abelard sai
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 75: Abelard The Wise
→ The story revolves around the wondrous epiphany of a tower. Life, flourishing. Living is detrimental. Souls, unbothered. Killing was a wonder. Death is attrition. → On the contrary. The tower expresses its gratitude towards you as the person who lifted the heights of impertinence. How truly satisfying. Humans would be filled with sorrow and revulsion from the serpentine consciousness of human life to the place called “dreams.” →The precipitous pathway along the twisted vision of scrumptious desire for asceticism on top of the tower. Ascending a top to receive the holy retribution of everlasting gaiety, searching for something, creating something, and dying for nothing. ***** My body drifts away to the field of white egret flowers, slowly drifting to a door where the sun radiates a much brighter light. Ahh…It’s not a place filled with darkness. Memoirs of the past constantly hunt me among the path of emptiness, which has changed to a light that fills that void—caressing my head
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 74: “Here We Are, Back Together Again.” (Part 2)
Droplets of water on the shower head continue to fall in a second interval. It resounded between the empty monochromatic walls of the bathroom, creating a rhythmic sound. A melodic hymn that resonated in the depths of my heart as if it was part of my bow. Time is a toxic trait that encourages me to turn my eyes to the cycle of life. A toxic devolve of imaginary people playing along in your head as you indulge in the hobby you picked up. It’s probably a bad idea to focus on oneself and forget the others as you go on your journey without thinking of your friends. We couldn’t live on our own since no man is said to be an island. Friends is like a sweet orange. It tastes great when you pick it up at the right time. You’ll know that it's good when the scent can be smelled even without peeling it. But if we decide to forget them, they’ll start to rot and lose their patience and will choose to cut out all ties. Thankfully, my friends aren’t like that, and I’m glad to have them. Haah… Rela
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 73: “Here We Are, Back Together Again.” (Part 1)
Amidst all the things that happened in the past months, nothing has changed, even a tiny change in the world. The world is still a monochromatic place that we call on as life. Life is flourishing with new faces of people living in this world. Is that their persona? Or was it their faces? I’m still uncomfortable to see the faces of different people living in this world. Seclusion… I’ve probably done it as we’ve got back. I'm playing the violin. An instrument that I found inside a case filled with normal papers and some other crumpled papers tainted with a black and indecipherable letter. Flure was staring at me as I played the notes the same way as it was written. {Hello, since this is the beginning of a new story, my life purpose isn’t complete yet. There was something that I was supposed to do last month, but I decided not to do it since I’m currently preoccupied with the violin. I decided to play this instrument to learn more about the original me. I want to know how amazing I was.
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Somewhere: The Hidden System
[I could hear the rattling sound of the clouds, reverberating in this colorful world. I can see everything in my eyes now. The blurry vision was gone now and I could see everything beyond the horizon. I can now see the mountain range covering another world that was once blurry in my vision. My hand can slightly move against the thick layer of ice I’m confined with. This place began to glitch, and the person I talked to said he needed to go somewhere. My head feels lighter than usual.] [The wind suddenly became erratic. The ripple it created in the air was so fulminating that it felt like the world fell from heaven. Then I saw his figure in the distance, walking somewhat like a flunk. It came to my mind that he had returned with the green light as it sent waves of heavily restricted words into the sky. His eyes were dead tired from his swollen face, and dark eye bags. He greeted me as if I was a friend on his lonely place.] "Oh, you’re awake already… Did you have a nice dream?” Dēria
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 72: "Oh? This Is The End? Kinda Fast For Me. Would There Be Another One?"
“Now. What should I tell you? There’s a lot of things that I wanted to say, but I think it would take a hundred years to actually tell everything to you.” Linus looks so gleeful with a smile that would’ve taken aback every person. It feels like a trek to the path in front of him. I'm still vigilant, but not in a way where I’m wary. I'm still slightly uncomfortable, but it feels weirdly warm when I finally reach him. The identical void in his pupils has a sense of deceit and falsifies anything he says. But for some reason, I feel relatively calm and full of hope maybe because it was about me. It felt like I was walking on a putrid path in one straight line. Every step felt like a mile. Every step felt like I was descending to my own hell. “Ngh…” A cacophony of noise rings my head frantically. The noise inside my head was so unbearable that I had to stop on the track and lay my head again, using pressure from both hands to stop it. I smashed my head in the soil, which had stopped t
- Why Are My Dreams Realistic?
Chapter 71: "This Was The World I Created For Him, And Yet You're All Using It For Yourselves!?"
“Heh.” The boy had a grim smile when I turned around. There was a hint of disgust and annoyance hidden behind his innocent smile. His eyes were as dark as a void filled with nothing but a hollow death as I stared directly. I tried to wipe off the tears on my eyes, but it continued to create anew. This sense of nostalgia is like I’ve seen one of my close friends. My chest continued to pound uncontrollably from the intense emotion that I was feeling. I’m trembling all over my body. My temperature continues to rise exponentially. Then suddenly, with that sense of relief, my mouth opened with a smile of satisfaction I had never experienced. “I guess your soul would never forget me even though your memories were long gone.” The boy changed his smile to a genuine one. Seeing him smile made my heart pound faster and faster. “You never really understand this kind of emotion, huh? You’re still the same even though I’ve met you countless times in different data.” A musical instrument reso
