I am a dreamscaper - I fix corrupted dreams, destroy impurities, and sometimes, save others from their nightmares. I can see and feel things, certain wrongnesses in dreams that others are blind too. How that wrongness registers in my brain and my dream body is always different, but it’s always impossible to ignore. Tonight, when I think about the attic, it feels like I’m touching a live wire, the jarring buzz of electric-like energy rattling through my bones. If there’s something for me to fix here (as I often do in my dream missions), the attic is where it will be.
I pause to consider my options. I can’t just run in there blind - my dream mentor would kill me. Plus, I’m not immune to injury, either. I can feel a semblance of pain, and if I meet some of the darker creatures that prowl around the dreamscape, I could get hurt. I can smell things, touch things, and interact with things like I’m in the waking world. It’s not exactly the same as the waking world, but it’s pretty damn close - so much more so than just lucid dreaming.
It’s called Ludreremis, and it can only be reached via the blessing of a dream deity.
Sometimes, they’ll find us on a whim, when we pass through their dreamscapes or they cross into ours. Other times, they’ll seek us out, or just pick the first suitable mortal they see. My mentor, of course, hand-picked me. Sure, I don’t know how, or why, but… I guess it’s pretty cool? Especially that I can do this Ludreremis thing, I mean, who wants boring-ass normal dreams when you can be a motherfucking dream hero? It’s pretty damn wild. The only thing I really can’t do in my dreams is look into mirrors. See… There's a reason why you, or anyone else, can’t see your reflection in dreams. Mirrors in the dreamscape are harmless when your subconscious is driving you through your dream. It’ll protect you from what’s there, beyond your reflection, because when you’re like me...
There are always monsters in the mirrors.
My mentor stressed that point to me so many times that I think I can recite their exact speech on “The Danger of Mirrors” word for word. As a result, I pointedly stare at the floor as I walk past a large mirror in the hallway. I could technically look straight forward, because a side look at a mirror won’t do anything, but it’s not really worth the chewing out I’d get from my mentor. They’re cautious - they get all poofed up and flustered when I’m not careful enough. Whenever I ask why they’re so nervous about them, though, my mentor freezes up and refuses to say anything else.
I sigh as I climb the back stairs. Okay, if I’m going to be honest with you? Like… completely honest? It… kinda weirds me out that my mentor won’t tell me more about the whole mirrors thing. I’ve been their apprentice for two whole years - they should at least tell me if they don’t want to talk about it. Instead? They just… dodge the topic, and it’s frustrating. Sometimes, I’m tempted to look into a mirror just to get it over with. Just to know what they’re so damn scared of.
I trip on the top step. With a squawk, I fall down. My knees hit the carpeted floor and immediately start feeling fuzzy. It’s… a little bit like the pins and needles you get when you lose circulation in your limbs, but a lot softer - more subtle, usually. I pick myself up with a grumble and hook a right down a long, seemingly endless hallway. Its length doesn’t really bother me - I’m after the string in its center, hanging down from a rectangular hatch in the ceiling.
I pull the string and grunt with the effort of making sure the stairs don’t come crashing down on top of me. I lock them into place afterwards, looking upwards. There’s an impossibly dark void above the stairs, and I feel an eerily cold draft hit me as I start to climb. I know, I know - I should be more careful, look for a light source or something before I run headfirst into a black void. But I’m impatient, and there’s an itch in my bones that just won’t go away. Fortunately for me though, as soon as I stand up in the pitch black attic, I feel a light cord hit me in the face. I pull it, and the resulting light source is so bright that I have to squeeze my eyes shut to avoid being blinded.
When I open them, I’m somewhere entirely different.
Red walls, wooden floors, and dark leather greet me. I’m in quite possibly one of the fanciest, most lavish sitting rooms I’ve ever seen. Beautiful paintings cover the smooth, wide walls, and a wrought iron chandelier hangs from the high, high ceiling. An excessive number of lit candles fill the air with a soft, floral scent - lavender, maybe? All the furniture is exquisitely crafted. Gold accents and hand-made carvings nearly take my breath away as I look at them. I’m caught up in my awe for a while… at least, until I hear voices.
They’re distant. But even from far away I can tell they are the voices of children, high and loud and filled with laughter. I furrow my brow - there’s kids here? Curiosity peaked, I exit the sitting room and enter a short hallway. Immediately, I notice how tall the walls are. They stretch up eleven feet high at least, and the ceiling, which slants up from the walls, is even higher. Directly in front of me is the oversized entrance to a very expensive bathroom. The whole room is covered in dark marble while candles sit on the edge of the tub, glowing softly despite the bountiful light brought in by the room’s high windows.
But the children’s voices don’t seem to be coming from the bathroom, so I move on. As I look down the hallway, I spy a fancy end table, a handful of doors, and a large, gilded mirror hanging on the wall farthest from myself. On instinct, I stare at the floor as I walk forwards. The feeling I had before, that little itch of wrongness that jolted me to Ludreremis, grows. It morphs from an itch into an awful thrum of power that vibrates uncomfortably in my sternum. It's intrinsically wrong, and nothing like my mentor’s energy - their vibrations are calm and soothing, washing over me like the kiss of the sun on a cold winter’s day.
The energy I feel here feels like an invasion, like whatever entity is here wants to crawl inside my skin and wear it like a coat. It weighs on me like a carcass draped over my shoulders, stinking of death and blood and wrongness oh god get out of here. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I take a sharp turn into the room on the left and instantly, the awful vibrating dissipates. I breathe in shakily, hand rising to my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump. Even though my heart isn’t physically here, the echo of its beat soothes me - I’m okay, I’m alive, and I can do this.
I hear the sound of children’s voices yet again. Desperate for any excuse to avoid the hallway, I move further into the sitting room and towards the noise, smushing my face against the closest window. Through the window, I notice that there’s a large, concrete deck a floor or so down. There’s two children there, too, both sharply dressed and playing with chalk. The elder one is a boy who looks to be about five, and the youngest is a girl no older than two or three. While the girl scribbles incoherently on the left side of the deck, the boy doodles poorly-drawn planes on the right.
I try to open the window to call out to them, but the stupid locks on the window’s frame don’t budge no matter how hard I yank on them. I huff, grumbling in frustration, “What a pain…” I mutter, squinting at the window.
I attempt knocking on the glass and somehow, the sound reaches them - the duo look up. When they catch sight of me, they wave enthusiastically and smile. I wave back, gesturing wildly to the window to (hopefully) convey my struggle. It… doesn’t work. The kids flash me a thumbs up and then immediately go back to playing. Figures… stupid kids. I think to myself, frowning. I could attempt knocking until they get the message, but… nah. I try jiggling the window a few more times before I give up and admit to myself that there’s no way in hell this is going to help. At this point? I’m just lying to myself about how to fix this bullshit dream.
It’s gotta be the mirror.
I know, I know… mirrors are bad news, and I shouldn’t look in a mirror if I don’t want trouble, but… I’m tired of waiting for someone to tell me what’s inside them. My mentor sure isn’t going to tell me anything, and besides, looking into the mirror like this will kill two birds with one stone - I’ll see what’s up with the mirrors, and I’ll fix whatever’s wrong with this dream. Efficiency… woo!
Despite my confidence, I can’t deny that my heart thumps loudly in my chest as I pass through the door frame. Immediately, the awful thrumming in my chest returns, and the longer I stand still, the worse it gets. Waves upon waves of vibrations crash into me as I shut my eyes and focus on slow, even breathing. I need to be completely calm if I’m going to do this. My mentor would kill me for even thinking about it, but… I have a job to do, and I’m tired of waiting for people to tell me things I should have been told years ago.
And so, I look into the mirror.
- - -
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