Pyrion Astorii

Roadies

He woke to a start. The dream had been so vivid, yet it was fading fast. He hated that about dreams, the good ones anyway. He scrambled for his notebook, so that he could write it down before it was gone. The first few words were usually scrambled thoughts, the things that stood out the most about the beginning. He found that the further back he could go, as far back as possible, the more vivid his recollection, even if it wasn't seemingly connected meaningfully to the sequence of events that took place. At least, not meaningful in this real life. But what was real life anymore? He wondered.