ＤＡＹＤＲＥＡＭＳtapestry's daydreams are things of wonder. they can be wildly different from each other, but he loves each one and has yet to find one he doesnt like.
most of his daydreams take place in settings familiar to him, such as his childhood home, the old park he used to play in as a child, and the woods he frequented as a teen, just to name a few.
other times, his daydreams take a more.. fantasia-esque appearance. one of his most frequent (and favorite) daydams is one where he's in a world of sweets. the dirt is regular sugarcane sugar, white as snow and grainy under his toes. the grass is tiny strings of watermelon licorice tied together into thick bushels that are surprisingly soft. the trees, massive, thick-trunked things made out of different types of chocolate, intricate details carved into the trunks that make them resemble actual trees. the leaves are thin, and made out of sugar blown glass, decorated with gold leaf paper.
for as far as the eye can see, sugar and soft, fluffy marshmallow and ropes of licorice go on forever. rivers of different kinds of sodas and other sweet desserts peek out from valleys and trickle into thin creeks that run through the hills and forests. giant ice cream scoops in any flavor you can imagine dot the landscape like massive bushes of pure liquid sugar, drizzling onto the grass only to reform a few minutes later.
houses and castles and shops and dungeons made out of gingerbread and peanut brittle and waffer cookie-carved lattice and fences fill towns scattered throughout the land. people made of desserts of whatever kind you can imagine live in them, ruled by powerful kings and queens until the monarchy crumbles (literally) and they start anew.
there are also the more normal dreams. the dreams that leave him feeling bitterly nostalgic, leave him with an aching headache, a bleeding, painful heartache, out of grief, out of regret.
his normal dreams show him glimpses into the memories trapped and locked away inside his mind, the bits and pieces of history he no longer remembers.
sometimes these dreams took the form of the beach he went to for the family's first vacation. it was a black sand beach, and the sand got between his toes and made his pads burn and itch, and the tide nearly swept him out to sea more than once, but he liked it. it was calm, pleasant. something he didnt mind remembering.
other times, he would remember birthday parties, where the only guests were himself and his parents. he would hear the sweet chime of his mother's voice, like a bell, and his father's rough, gravelly voice, that radiated safety, warmth, security, even when he didn't look like it. he would see the gifts, and the memories associated with them, and the pang in his chest, his heart, at the realization he never properly appreciated his parents.
ＮＩＧＨＴＭＡＲＥＳtapestry's nightmares are horrible, horrible things. rarely does he speak about them, and in the rare moments he does, he avoids as many details as possible. his nightmares most often feature fears of his exaggerated to scare him, or pre-existing memories twisted into ugly, gruesome parodies of the original.
one of his most common nightmares is based on his fear of suffocation and dying alone. trapped in a wodden casket buried far beneath the earth with no escape, and a slow, painful death awaits him each time. it's painful even after he wakes up in a panic, clawing at his throat, thrown into survival mode even after the nightmare's over.
another reoccuring dream is one based somewhat on a memory. it takes place during the first time he got kicked out of school. when he wakes up on the bus towards home, he is taken ahold of and shaken hard by "reality" when, as the bus rolls up to his house, he sees his father waiting for him outside, red-faced and scowling and clearly angry.
the nightmare usually ends up with him getting thrown out of the house with nothing but his backpack, and eventually dying in an alley.
sometimes, the dream takes a different turn, where he's instead inside his dad's car, and that's how they get home. or they're supposed to. he doesnt talk until about halfway to home, and when he does, his voice is even more scratchy than normal. he yells and accuses and is just generally nothing like the man he grew up with.
it always happens. sometimes it's a bird, sometimes it's the sun, sometimes it's tapestry himself—but it matters not in the end. his dad takes his eyes off the road for just one second,
just a second, and then the next thing he knows they're running off the road and the car rolls into a ditch.
his dad always dies. sometimes it's a piece of the car speared through his chest, other times his legs are pinned while the car crushes them both, occasionally it explodes on them and all he can hear is his own screams and the blood in his ears.
and then he wakes.
these are actually some of his more mild nightmares, not even close to the worst he's dealt with, but it's impossible to get him to divulge anything more than those few.
