"What's wrong? God, where to start? I had this image in my head and I couldn't get it on canvas properly. I saw it in a dream, hence the title and just... look at that, he's not soft enough. He had a soft jaw, sweet lips, I didn't get that part right. Then there's just the feel of the piece, you know? It should be rebellious and passionate. I was going for-- you know that feeling you get in your gut when you're willing to die for something? Like when you love someone so much that it aches and you'd rip your heart out and gift it to them if they asked. That's what I wanted to put into this."

But once he woke up from his dream, it didn't come out as he wanted it too because he couldn't remember every edge and every feeling. He turned and then paused, taking in the young man by him and his eyes widened slightly.

There he was, punk and chaotic, looking exactly what he'd failed to put on the canvas. The spirit of rebellion and anarchy.

"You... You look more like him than the painting does, friend."