I wake up.
Go to sleep again.
The world is light when you wake up and heavy when you go to sleep.
Someone is watching me. I can't see clearly what's behind. The lips are moving and cannot be heard.
I'm going back.
But every time I opened my eyes, everything started to leak out. Like water flowing from the fingers, like mist blown away by the wind.
I remember it being important there, but I forget why. I remember someone was waiting for me, but I forgot who it was.
A voice was calling me—not calling my name, but calling me.
That sound wanted to wake me up more than any bell in the world.
But where am I?
Have no idea.
But I haven't gone back yet.
Concept: Self-loss in the fog of memory