[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmVjODAyMi5VbTkzWVc0Z1MyVnVibWxqYjNRLC4w/khand.medium.png[/img]

Rowan couldn't remember the last time she had a decent dream. There was once a period in her life where she had dreams so pleasant and whimsical that it was depressing to wake up and be back among the living. What was better? Being able to fly and be the center of attention or shuffling along the bus to school every morning with a cup of yogurt as breakfast and not so much as a 'have a good day' from who were technically parents. Dreams were spaces where anything could happen. 

It wasn't as if Rowan was sleeping any worse. She might've been sleeping [i]less[/i] but it wasn't restless. Just dreamless. If she were the concerning type, she might've tried uncovering the reason why. There was no real reason to over-analyze it, but shortly after Rowan lost herself in the realms of the massive and online, so too did she lose the capacity to dream. After all, when there was a place to fly and be the center of attention and get validation for it...who needed dreams? While being awake she could be stuck in the world of her dreams. 

This world was a place where anything could happen. 

Over time, Rowan hadn't even missed dreaming. Sleeping was just a thing she did to recharge rather than a thing she looked forward to and cherished. Changing so many habits resulted in sleep coming to her even without a bed; which was a roundabout way of teaching herself to sleep while sitting, as uncomfortable as it might be. Countless nights sleeping with a small puddle of drool next to her keyboard. Nights where she wound up on the floor because her legs wouldn't move another step. Where once sleep and dreams were desired, now sleep had become a nuisance. 

So when Rowan found herself waking up in an awkward position, she wasn't exactly surprised. She wasn't even initially surprised when it was physical contact that stirred her awake; her roommates had a tendency to make sure she wasn't dead in the morning by poking her with a yardstick as a joke and as an alarm clock. [color=00FF7F]"Fuck off, Barb,"[/color] Rowan slurred out, still locked in the sleepy haze with eyes barely open and blurry. [color=00FF7F]"Fuck off!"[/color] She repeated herself, her voice surly, annoyed, sleepy. 

[color=00FF7F]"Idontgotwork"[/color] Another muttered response as her eyes shut again. Back to sleep. Yet to dream. She was alive, though. And that was usually enough to get Barb and her husband off of Rowan's back.[/center]