[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/171127/e83bbb153faa404d690c3b2338721fcf.png[/img]

[img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls1xyu943Y1qa2mwe.gif[/img][color=6ecff6] [i]Feelings, sensations that you thought was dead [img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls1xyu943Y1qa2mwe.gif[/img]
[img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls1xyu943Y1qa2mwe.gif[/img] No squealing, remember that it's all in your head[/i][/color] [img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_ls1xyu943Y1qa2mwe.gif[/img]

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UclCCFNG9q4]▶▶[/url][/center]
For a week now, Luka Young had been walking through a dream. It felt so real, lacked that slow floaty liquidity of sleep, but nothing he had experienced could possibly have been real. Sooner or later he would wake up in a forest stream, soaked to the bone looking at his friends’ worried faces, with only vague memories that he would rack his brain trying to understand. He would get up, get home to dry off and withstand his parents’ interrogation, and he would continue his life, getting high and going nowhere.

At first, his dream was alien to him, an unsettling departure from reality. It was too bright, too colorful, just [i]too much[/i]. Soon enough, though, he found comfort in the odd beauty of it. He started to see it less as a creation of random neuron firings in his drug-addled brain and more as what it really was: [i]Wonderland[/i].

Wonderland, with its vivid colors, gorgeous views, and its people, who didn’t look at him the way most others did.

He wasn’t sure he even wanted to go home.

These were the thoughts that Luka tried to dismiss as he strolled through Wonderland’s streets. He was thankful that he somehow managed to bring his belongings with him when he crossed over. He still had his beloved iPod and his headphones, which were currently situated around his neck, softly serenading the quiet morning.

The music was a welcome distraction, but Luka still found himself drifting back to his last night in his old life.

[center][i]Campfire. Conversation. Hallucinogens.

[color=lavender]Tactless comments. Sudden anger. Departure.[/color]

[color=thistle]Warmth. Buzzing energy. Laughter.[/color]

[color=plum]Breathing. Reaching. Twistingtwisting[/color]

[color=violet]Floatingweightless spinning [/color]

[color=mediumpurple]lightscolorsair[/color]

[color=6ecff6]coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold[/color]

Then, Lucidity.[/i][/center]

He had woken up by a riverbed. The water shimmered with colors he didn’t think possible.

Running his hands through his hair, Luka shook himself out of his recollection. Seeing the gaudy colors of the Whimsy Moth Eatery, he picked up his pace.

With a spring in his step, he swung open the bistro’s door and greeted Percival and Indigo.

[i][color=6ecff6]“Mornin’, guys! How’s things?”[/color][/i]
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