Little Sweet Dreamer - Wattys Edition

Chapter 3

The only light around me was that which shone off my body. An uncomfortable feeling developed in my chest as the dreamer's mind made sure to know I was out of place and unwelcomed. Even so, I kept walking, delving deeper into their subconscious. I knew what I had to do.

In the distance, lights appeared and glimmered softly. As I steadily approached, they became brighter, and their source was revealed; I was nearing a mansion. Every window glowed yellow-green, illuminating the exterior of the whole place and an outdoor garden.

I wonder whose dream I'm in? I thought. This was all too commonplace in my life. First, I'd be asleep, and then I was being dragged into someone else's dreamland the next moment. This ability was with me for as long as I could remember, and my dad used to be the only one who seemed to understand. I didn't tell him I went into other people's dreams, only that they were so vivid. But he had a knowing look in his eyes. So I knew he got it—that he could empathize even.

I miss him so much.

It took a while to realize I was in other people's dreams. I thought I was just a frequent lucid dreamer who dreamt of the people she'd seen before. But one day, a writer from out of town visited my elementary school. He started his speech for us and told us that most of his stories stemmed from dreams he'd write down every morning when he woke up. Then, much to my surprise and dismay, he described my dream about him the night before from his perspective. Everything that happened was the same. We were at a waterfall; I was standing underneath it. I waved at him before jumping into the water below and turning into a mermaid (I was obsessed with the show H2O at that time). He even told them about the beautiful chromatic colors of my scales.

Did we share a dream?

Naturally, I thought people could share dreams with others. But when I inquired my mom about it, she stated, "That's not possible, sweetie. It would be cool, though!"

But too many coincidences kept adding up. Whenever I recognized people I had never met before after sharing a dream with them, they rarely acknowledged me, but when they did, they all asked the same question: "Have we met before?"

It took some time, but it finally clicked in my mind that I was the one who was going into other people's dreams and the only one aware of it.

With that revelation, I started noticing things I hadn't before. Like in my dreams, there was always a sense of belonging and comfort. But when I was in someone else's dreams, I knew their subconscious viewed me as a foreign invader with wordless hostility. I didn't belong in other people's minds. And I was always desperate to get out of them.

I approached a large golden door and shifted my focus to the task at hand: waking up this dreamer.

The splendor of this place was magnificent and unreal; a large, golden archway held an equally as large door. The outside of the house seemed to be made of marble and smooth stone. The pathway was paved with diamonds and gold. I scoffed slightly; this person was somewhat delusional in their pursuit of wealth.

Hesitantly, I knocked on the large double doors. My knocking echoed around the nothingness behind me and inside the house until the door slowly groaned open.

The house was as grand on the inside as it was on the outside. The ceiling arched into a dome high in the sky; the walls consisted of the romantic era style of paintings that livened up the room. A large staircase ascended and split off to the left and right, with a grand window in the middle where the stairs split. Unfortunately, the window only exposed the darkness beyond. The railing was lined in gold, and the marble floor was so shiny that it practically glowed.

"Do you have an appointment?" a Butler asked.

"Uh," I said, my voice slightly scaring me—it always did. "Yes?"