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He wanted to sleep more. He could, if he let himself. It wouldn’t mind. They wouldn’t mind. But he can’t lose his skill, or get sick. That’s what happens when people stay in bed for too long. At least he thinks so.
Staying in bed too long makes people get sores and makes their muscles stop working. He’s sure he’s heard that, somewhere. Even if it may not be true, he doesn’t want to test it. Besides, if he spends all of his time sleeping, he can’t practice. If he doesn’t practice, he won’t be as good on his guitar as he is now. He can’t lose his skill. It will need him to play.
So he can’t spend his days sleeping, no matter how much he wants to. The collective wouldn’t want him to wither away. They like his body. They call him beautiful. It likes his body as well, the collective tells him so and he knows they don’t lie. That means he has to keep his body healthy, can’t stay asleep all the time. But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. He wants nothing more than to be in It with them.
In Its cool, dark, loving embrace. With the collective, who listen. Who find him beautiful. Special. Call him theirs. He wants to be theirs. Wants to be a part of to the collective. He’s never had that before, belonging. Attention. Love.
He is too bland and unmemorable for any of it. Of course he would want to be with them in It forever. But he can’t. He can’t because one day, hopefully soon, he’ll join them in the waking world. And that means he has to keep his waking body healthy, his guitar skills perfect. For them. For It.
He can’t have them reject him because his body, his abilities, aren’t enough. Because he let himself go to be with them in his dreams. He doesn’t think he’ll survive it. He knows he wouldn’t. So he exercises, eats well, practices until his fingers bleed, and only allows himself the amount of sleep he needs. Maybe a nap after practice. As a reward to himself, if he felt he’d made significant progress that day.
Every night, before he sleeps, he prays. Not to the god he was raised to believe in, but the god he felt in his dreams. The one who spoke to him. Held him. Loved him. The god who would, one day, welcome him into Its collective. Who would allow him to join the others, to finally live with them, and to devote his life to the worship of It.