“This isn’t a dream. It’s a hint from fate,” she said with her back to me as she stared out at the ocean.
“Can you be any clearer?” I asked while confused.
She turned her head and gave me a soft smile.
“One day, you’ll understand. There’s no point in talking about it in advance.”
I was annoyed at her attitude.
“If you’re not going to tell me, don’t keep appearing in my dreams!”
“Whether or not I will appear will not depend on me, but on you,” she said.
“…” I couldn’t speak. I had a feeling she was right.
“Anne, this is your dream. It’s your subconscious calling to me. That’s why I keep showing up,” she went on to explain.
I lowered my head dejectedly. “Why don’t I know what my subconscious wants?”
“You want to figure out your fate. Why did Dacia choose you? What is your future like? Will he ever return to the sea? Will you be together forever? Will you always love each other?”
As she kept throwing out questions, my approval of her grew.
“You’re right. These questions have been bothering me.”
With that, I looked up at her and suddenly understood why she had always appeared in my dreams.
Because she was me, made up of countless questions in my heart.
I’d never discussed these issues with Dacia when I was sober, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care.
So another Annie always appeared in my dreams, reminding me repeatedly of the existence of these problems.
Fate, the future, were ultimately topics that couldn’t be avoided between me and Dacia.
What should come would come.
In the morning, I opened my eyes. The alarm hadn’t gone off, because it was the weekend and I didn’t have to work.
I sat up while feeling sick to my stomach.
I wondered if it was because I had eaten the Dacia body fluid last night.
“Annie, are you awake?” Dacia’s voice came from the kitchen.
I responded groggily and got off the bed.
Suddenly, my stomach churned. I subconsciously put on my shoes and rushed into the bathroom. I threw up on the toilet bowl.
There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and all that came out was yellow gastric fluid.
I’d digested the dinner I’d had the night before, and I’d completely absorbed Dacia’s bodily fluids.
“What’s wrong with you?” He walked over worriedly and bent down to pat my back.
“My stomach doesn’t feel good. I think I’m sick,” I said weakly.
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“Do you want to go to the hospital to take a look?” His expression was a little grave.
At this point, I stopped throwing up. I held his arm and stood up before walking to the mirror.
I saw that my face was pale and yellow. I looked sick.
Concern filled Dacia’s eyes. “You really should see a doctor.”
“What did you make for breakfast? It smells delicious.” I changed the subject..