Dreams

Edward had an indescribable expression etched on his face—it was impossible to tell if he felt sadness, anger, shock, or if he simply didn't know how to process everything he'd just heard.

"So... in short, the reason you're after the General is because you hate him for ruining every aspect of your life, right?" Edward asked, carefully measuring his words.

"Yes, that sums it up. Though, to be more specific, it's for ruining my son's life like that."

"I won't deny I was also at fault, but my son ultimately made that decision because of all the shit that bastard put him through."

"I see..." The young man's expression didn't change at all, even after grasping the heart of the matter.

"Well, I think I've shared enough about myself for now. Your turn."

What is this, some kind of gossip session between girls?

Edward finally regained his composure, and that expression vanished from his face, replaced by one with a faint hint of amusement.

"Well, honestly, I don't have much to tell. Overall, I think my life's been pretty ordinary."

"Doesn't matter. Anything's fine." Cain's indecipherable gaze returned to his face.

"Well, I guess I could start with something that's been bothering me lately."

"Yeah, yeah, that'd be good." The man watched with eager anticipation, waiting for what the young man was about to share.

Edward wasn't sure how to react to that.

"For as long as I can remember, I've had trouble recalling things—especially my dreams."

"People say dreams are hard to remember, but I remember all of mine. Except they're always distorted, and I can't recall the exact details."

"Sometimes, I dream I'm in a space surrounded by planets, stars, constellations... and there's this blurry figure saying something to me, but I can't hear what."

"Other times, I dream I'm in the middle of a devastated city that suddenly lights up, completely engulfed in intermittent beeping sounds."

"Then, I dream I'm in what looks like a refugee camp, where children and the elderly are moaning and screaming in pain while others tend to them."

"I also remember them cursing about something, and I explode in rage—but I don't know why or what they're cursing about."

"And the most recurring dream—the one that feels the most real and the strangest of them all—is one where I'm standing in a space my brain can't comprehend, while in the distance, I see a figure passing through what looks like a rift leading to an unknown place. The other figure from my first dream is waiting for them, and they leave together."

"All these dreams feel real yet distant—sometimes like déjà vu, other times like a premonition."

"And it torments me. It fills my chest with this anxiety and discomfort I can't shake, no matter what I do. At work, at home, with my family. Day after day, I have to live with it."

Wait, why am I telling him this? Also, I'm not feeling that sensation right now...

"I see. Tell me more."

Cain grabbed a notepad and pen from the space in front of him (the air) and put on a pair of glasses he had in his pocket.

"Stop acting like my therapist. It's not funny." Edward pushed away the thoughts swirling in his mind and shot him an icy glare.