That night he dreamed of cornflowers.

Estonia didn’t know where he was but he found himself laying in a field full of those ever symbolic flowers that he fell in love and became associated with. His back laid against a knitted black blanket with green leaves plastered everywhere. He was sure he had never seen before it yet it carried a hint of nostalgia to him for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on. Endless trees surrounded him in a circular fashion and seemed never ending as they stood high and mighty towards the blue sky. The sun is not intimidated by their height however as its rays still manged to pierce though them as if they weren’t there at all.

Despite the peaceful environment, he knows nothing around him is real. Whenever he looks up above him, it always appears blurry to his eyes as if there’s another world within an arms reach. It was one of the few ways he could figure out if he was dreaming or not, making nightmares sometimes easy to eliminate almost as soon as they began. But regardless Estonia was satisfied to be here. It had been a while since he had gotten a dream as peaceful as this one.

The feel of the cornflowers against his fingertips felt warm but a little uncomfortably realistic for a regular dream. Even in this state, he can faintly smell smoke coming from a chimney in the distance. A light breeze picks up and he quickly notices along the sky that the wind is carrying a long string of cornflower pedals.

Estonia blinks. A new set of white flower pedals join the mix.

He blinks again. Yellow pedals are next to join in.

Blue, white, and yellow. Cornflowers, daises, and rues. They dance together in harmony with the wind guiding them on their long journey into the sunlit forest. The sight almost brings Estonia to tears. The pedals will take their own paths eventually. But for now they will fly together—just like the three of them did all those years ago.

When he blinks one last time, the world around him goes dark and silent. With a heavy breath, his eyes slowly open. He is warm within the heavy sheets of his bed.

Estonia didn’t like dreams with such strong symbolism. They often reminded him of the things time hadn’t yet healed. He blamed no one but himself. He developed a strong knack over the years for controlling the way dreams played out as a way to rid himself of night terrors. But often his own mind was more powerful than he was and Estonia would fall trap to its tricks. The end result was always starting the day with a strong tension headache. Currently Estonia’s head was throbbing in the back and down through his neck.

But when he grabbed his glasses off his night table, confusion set in when he could properly see his surroundings. On his desk lay three small bouquets: cornflowers, daises, and rues. Each one was wrapped in a coloured ribbon of blue, red, and yellow respectively. Though a beautiful sight, Estonia was uneasy by the sight of them. They had not been there the night before. He lived alone and no one was staying with him either.

Last night Estonia had dreamed of cornflowers. But he had reached the point where he could no longer tell if he was still dreaming or not.