A Question in Mind

Chills!

Ivaim's eyes slowly lifted to open.

The room smelled faintly of herbs and clean linen. 

Wooden shelves lined the walls, cluttered with neatly folded cloth, small bottles, and a single vase holding wildflowers. 

He lay on a sturdy but simple bed, thick bandages wrapped around his chest and arms. 

Despite the wrappings, there was no real pain.... only a dull awareness of his injuries. 

His body felt heavy but whole.

"A dream..." Ivaim muttered under his breath, staring at the wooden beams overhead.

His thoughts drifted back to that golden workshop, his father's steady voice, and the warmth of his mother's kitchen.

"I've been longing to go home, so I get why I'd dream about it."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"But that last part... strange... I don't remember making any wishes like that..."

He sighed softly, brushing it off.

"I'm probably overthinking it, Dreams are always strange after all..."