She lays on the couch in her living room, on her side, phone propped in a ridiculous manner on the coffee table close to her face. A video plays, something she'd probably like, but she isn't paying attention. Watching, perhaps, but no information is really being caught and stored within her brain. 

She's not thinking about much, though she should. Thoughts are too much of a hassle, and her brain disagrees with them. Better to just lay here and leave existing to everyone else for a while. It's not that easy though, she has things to do. So she sits up, or at least tries to. Her body doesn't enjoy moving anymore. It can, but it would prefer not to. Grabbing her phone, she pauses the video. She'll finish ignoring it later.

She receives a text, and checks the contact name. Ugh. Deal with that later. What's the time? She checks. 1:42 AM. Good god.

She stands up slowly, and stretches to maybe get her body to work with her. No luck, instead she nearly falls over. With the video stopped, the silence of the house starts to creep in on her, shifting everything towards purple. No good. She moves her way to the kitchen sink to turn it on. The running water clears the room. She splashes her face. The water's hot, and it hurts. That's okay.

The color returns slowly, and the room is nearly fully yellow again. Her brain starts slipping. It is late, isn't it? Sleep is good. But she can't leave the water on again all night. It's not safe. She turns off the water and sits on the kitchen floor, as the yellow starts to fade again. She will just have to deal with the purple, which is fine. Sleep is good.

She closes her eyes, and lets sleep pull her under as the purple begins to eat away at any exposed skin it can reach.

~-~-~

She awakes on the surface of some sort of water. It appears to be a dark grey with a slight orange tinge and it doesn't move like water, it's too viscous, but it doesn't put up any extra resistance as she orients herself upright and begins treading water. It's dark - one of the moons visible in the sky is partially covering the sun. The air smells like a cheap, overpowering candle, yet somehow it doesn't negatively affect the atmosphere here.

A winged creature glides overhead, circling once or twice around her before continuing past. It's only a silhouette, barely even that honestly, a faint outline overlaid on the clouds above. A voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a canoe, clearly wood but somehow gleaming silver. A creature sits on top of it, a sort of distorted humanoid. Its eyes are hollow, and she can't seem to place its color. It speaks again, and the voice is a color, more purple that spirals around her and weighs her down.

She struggles to keep afloat, reaching for the oar of the humanoid. She manages to grasp it, but she pulls it too close to the water and it melts away. The creature speaks again, and she's pulled under.

From below the surface she can see the moons and the clouds. More of the winged creatures had begun circling overhead while she was distracted. She sinks deeper, and the purple forces her mouth open. The water tastes like grape jelly as it slides down into her lungs. She can't breathe but it doesn't seem to be a problem. 

She keeps sinking. Eventually she reaches the floor of this distorted sea. The floor feels like modeling clay on her feet. Strange fish swim just barely past her, pulsing orange and white. Her eyes hurt, the fish are too bright. Way too bright.

~-~-~

Sunlight beams into her eyes from the window across the room, waking her up. An odd dream. She sits up slowly, realizing she's on the kitchen floor. Again. She looks at her arms and realizes she must have been clawing at them again. Great. No blood, which is good. She stands up, feeling how sore she is from sleeping on a tile floor. Today is going to be a long day, probably. Who knows? What day is it anyways?

She sees a text on her phone she received last night, from her best friend. "you been ok? you were acting kinda weird today and i just wanna check in," it reads. She sends a text back. "Sorry, been out of it ig, fell asleep in the kitchen again so I think the old problem is coming back a bit"

As she sends she realizes the time - just past 7:30 in the morning. No way in hell he'll be up yet. Hopefully the text doesn't wake him up.

She sees the typing bubble appear. Fuck. Eventually he replies with "oh jeez, scratches and all too? you should probably actually see someone about it this time this is the third time its come back now"

She sighs. He's definitely right, but that kind of stuff is such a hassle and she's been able to manage it herself just fine in the past. "Yeah maybe but lets table that for now, sorry if I woke you up, coffee at 9?" Talking to him face to face would probably help more than just texting. He just sends a thumbs up back, and she smiles slightly, pocketing her phone as she prepares for her day.