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Chara would describe his mind as quite active, constantly analyzing, commentating; providing thoughts and opinions about what he saw.
Combine that with the fact he was an invisible ghost attached to a child, with the child currently being asleep and well… his mind was overworking itself trying to fill in the boredom.
So one thing he noticed was that the Dreemurr family was back together.
Asgore and Toriel were just as young as they had been 100 years ago, even with the same amount of underlying tension. Instead of it being about one of their children dying it was about other children, who died.
Then there was Flowey....
Or rather Asriel.
Despite what the flower claimed they both shared similar mannerisms, from the refusal to use contractions to always trying to act tough. It was Asriel but lacked the nice bits. Like a rose without its flower full of thorns but underneath still the same.
Lastly there was himself, a ghost stuck to a human child. The rotten remains of his soul still persisting through parasitized determination.
With that the entire set was complete, not to mention they all lived in the same house now.
He could practically see them back together as it was back then.
Toriel with her purple robes, a white symbol emblemed on it. A Queen ready to rule her people and take care of all matters of running a kingdom.
Asgore with his golden armour, not needed but he was a symbol in himself. A King who took care of his people and kept their hopes up.
Asriel the future prince of monsterkind, his green striped shirt making him shine like a star. Inherited his mothers stratagem and his fathers heart.
Chara the… human.
The first human who fell. Who was a sibling to Asriel.
Who was adopted by Toriel and Asgore
Who was a symbol, the future of humans and monsters.
Who wore a striped shirt…
Had a shirt. There was at least one stripe on it.
He had boots and wore brown pants… both of which were similar to what Frisk wore.
He had red eyes, his hair was a shade of brown.
Chara stopped, and actually tried to visualize what he looked like.
He couldn’t.
He was describing Frisk. The child he was attached to.
What did he look like.
“Chara?”
Once again his own mind conspired against him as he said that out loud. Frisk was awake and she would realize that something was wrong, she always would.
Chara knew better than to prevent what he called ‘The Friskening’, in which Frisk would try to help someone. They would be helped. Whether they wanted to or into.
“It was just a thought,” he trailed off as Frisk sat up to attention.
“A normal, inerrant thought.” At this point Frisk was looking directly at him. At a disembodied voice which couldn’t even see itself. “Something that resulted from a logical sequence of events that could have happened at any time.”
Frisk got off the bed, made eye contact with him, and promptly walked over to hug him.
Or at least the closest thing to one, her arms warped around the approximate location of where his torso should be.
He didn't fight it.