He entered reality and was forced to put down his “childish” helmet of dreams. The helmet that gave life to the mundane, and the one that put him into an entirely different world.

But he grew up, life came first. The dreams never left him, though; they haunted him. Portals that appeared in different places, tempting him, taunting him, drawing him into them. Their cool color radiated against the monotonous tones that surrounded the portals and it was too much. They distorted his world and he sat in defeat, ready to drown in sorrow in his weak, skeletal state. The humdrum of reality pulled away at his flesh and he longed for something more.

He began to drown.

His eyes opened at his resurrection and suddenly the portals weren’t temptations, but rather, his path. He looked around at the life that surrounded him and he began to climb the waterfall. The bright blues and vivid reds transformed his reality to something ethereal, almost as the scenery for a mythical hero’s journey. In the distance, lay a castle that called him. His metamorphosis made him worthy, worthy to sit on the throne…