Chapter Text
Sam dreamed of bright colors and geometric patterns. He could distantly hear voices (it sounded like his dad and Alan) but he could never quite make out what they were saying. Like they were speaking a language that sounded like English but wasn’t. The sounds were familiar there but the meaning was just out of reach.
He dreamed of a dark place and being alone.
He dreamed of white lights and a man who looked like Alan but younger than Sam had ever known him. More unfamiliar words rushing over him and he was so small but the man was safe.
He dreamed of cold. Cold air filling his lungs and against his skin and breathing felt weird and unnatural and he was scared and the world shouldn’t be this dull— it should be full of bright colors and lights and it wasn’t even though the big light was warm against his skin like… something.
Sam dreamed that the real world was actually a dream world. A vision meant for men greater than him. He dreamed that he belonged to a world of colors and patterns and feverish warmth and hope and a faint buzzing under his skin that he missed like a physical ache because something was missing and broken in the back of his mind in a place he couldn’t quite reach and he had to fix it but he couldn’t even get there because it was covered.
He dreamed that there was something wrong with him. Something different and strange and it wasn’t that he was the son of a disappeared tech billionaire.
He awoke and felt deep in his subconscious that something about the dreams were true.