Catching My Breath

Description

Even though blinded at 16, now 24, there were nights when Ren dreamt in such vivid detail that when he woke he was confused, forgetting for a fraction of a second that his sight was gone. For the minutes that followed he felt the sorrow wash all over him. He had never been one to dwell on flowers, the shape of a tree, the stars or passing clouds.
Once the sadness became less acute he’d slowly make his way to the toilet, to wash his face, maybe it would sober him up. He’d never seen how mature his features had become, forever sixteen in his mind's eye, though his fingers told him he had a scratchy beard, and hair that flows down his back. Part of him wondered if the dreams would change, if one day they'd be the same monochrome shadows of his days. "Will this nightmare ever end?” Ren thought.