where hes alone in that hut with no one but shadows for company, he wakes up with a start, looking around frantically for people, real people, anything other than those misty black silhouettes

meanwhile in the dreams where hes still in that godforsaken sunflower field, tending to his flowers day in and day out until they inevitably wilt again, where hes hunched over that button pressing it again and again and again hoping, praying for a different response,

he wakes up slowly, with this tiredly confused look, as if he doesnt totally know where he is, as if he should be somewhere else, before sighing sadly. it had been such a good sleep too, hardly any tossing or turning.

maybe theres something bittersweet to the dreams, they serve as a constant reminder that hes not in that desert anymore (whether thats a blessing or a curse) but they also act as a brief refrain from his secret life nightmares