It's been a while since I've woken up to the fresh smell of coffee. So enchanting that the smell alone is enough to get me right out of bed.
In hindsight, it was an odd sense since the only thing that would wake me up is usually my blaring alarm clock. Nonetheless, it's a wonderful way to be waking up.
Following the smell towards the kitchen, the scent of waffles comes wafting through. I didn't even know I was hungry until then.
Closer to the kitchen, the sound of sizzling hits my ears. Excitement rushed through me as I know that familiar sound.
Bacon hitting the pan. The odd sensation I'd initially felt began to subside.
Waking up like this is the dream, isn't it? Waking up on a peaceful Sunday morning to greet the person cooking a delicious breakfast to start off a perfect day.
Well, I should've known that this was a dream.
My heart dropping and my guard fully up the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw her standing in front of the stove.
The ex-lover standing in my kitchen and cooking breakfast. It's funny how the mind likes to torment itself by pulling shit like this.
I live alone. We'd broken up years ago. And I don't have bacon in my fridge. This scene was just a lie. I'm still sleeping. This IS a dream.
But now I'm awake on a rainy Sunday morning, alone in my bed, wondering why this vivid dream had to have you in it.
Dreams are usually forgotten quickly, but dreams like this don't fade so easily. This Sunday morning actually happened a few weeks ago.
And here I am a few weeks later, still thinking about THAT specific dream.
My mind really needs to stop messing with me.
I'm getting tired of dreaming.