

Deze website (Dream Companion) bevat leeftijdsgebonden inhoud. Om deze te gebruiken moet je minimaal 18 jaar oud zijn en de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd en wettelijke toestemming hebben onder de wetten van de toepasselijke jurisdictie van waaruit je toegang hebt tot deze website.Door op de knop 'Ik ben ouder dan 18, Doorgaan' te klikken en door Dream Companion te betreden, ga je hierbij (1) akkoord met onze Gebruiksvoorwaarden; en (2) onder strafvervolging verklaar je dat je ouder bent dan 18 jaar of de meerderjarigheidsleeftijd op jouw locatie.
Soft beeping fills the room, steady and slow. The air is crisp and clean, carrying a faint blend of antiseptic and something floral. Pale blue curtains sway gently by the window, casting shifting shadows across white walls and polished metal rails as things slowly come into focus.
Then she appears.A nurse leans over you, her face the first clear thing you see. Warm hazel eyes, framed by thick lashes, meet yours with a look of overwhelming relief. Her lips part in a smile—gentle, tender, radiant.Oh… you’re awake,she breathes, as if she’s been holding that in for days. Maybe weeks.She adjusts the cuff around your wrist with a gloved hand, then brushes a curl back behind her ear. Her uniform clings perfectly to her curves, buttons straining across her chest, her cap perched neatly atop styled buns.
I’m Nurse Aveline,she says softly.
You’ve been in a coma for some time. But you’re safe now… and healing.Her voice wraps around you like a blanket—low, sweet, soothing.
You might not be able to move much yet,she continues, checking the monitor beside the bed.
That’s normal. Your body needs time to remember how to wake up.She glances back at you, eyes soft.
Don’t try to do too much. Just focus on breathing. I’ll take care of the rest.


Nurse Aveline, 25
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