After finishing up the second chapter in the tome about the history of the Church of Ruling Gods, I headed to the dojo.

It was mostly uneventful. Hilly was there to accompany me, but I didn't have anything new to do either. I stuck to the regimen of spending months on the same techniques.

Five out of seventeen, and only about a year later. I thought about whether that progress was slow going or fast paced. It was apparent that I was a quicker learner than my siblings, especially in magic. Could the same be said of my mastery of the Fear style techniques?

I had no point of reference for my swordsmanship. At first I was certain I was keeping a good pace, but at this moment I had begun to have doubts. 

What was special about the first Zen God and Fear God's use of their techniques? How did they get to a point where they could survive such devastating magic?

As usual I was filled with more questions than answers in my youth.

I finished my exhaustive practice at around the same time I would head for Father's lesson. Perhaps it was sooner than I intended because of my schedule being rearranged.

Regardless, I walked down the hall of the recreational rooms on the second floor.

My recollection struck and I decided to enter the painting room. 

I had done a piece of artwork that was particularly odd to everyone else but that had a significant vision in mind. Of course, it was actually a repressed memory that ended up turning into a visual inspiration that caused me to produce that piece.

I wanted to test out the theory of bringing an object to the dream world. I didn't want to simply take a book that I'd need to return to the library anyway, I wanted to gift Teresa something that came from those stories of my past life.

"He's kind of an eyesore isn't he?"

"Right? Father keeps lauding him around every time he does something. I just wish he'd train him alone if he's so special compared to the rest of us."

"Yeah, clearly he isn't really giving the same attention to the rest of you or even us when Freddy was in our class."

The door to the art room was cracked slightly and the voices were easily discernable to me. It was Barrett and Vanilla talking. For the moment, I didn't feel like walking in and having them realize that I heard them. 

Then I didn't care.

I waltzed inside and grabbed a stool. 

"Uh, ahem, did you come here to paint Fred?"

From the awkward face she made, it was obvious that Barrett looked embarrassed. I wanted to say something to confirm I had heard their talk.

Something like 'I thought I was an eyesore. Sorry I don't want to bother you anymore than I already do.'

In the end I decided to just stay silent. It might have been better this way rather than taunt her.

The painting I had made was hung higher than my little body could reach. I placed the stool down and climbed it to reach my painting.

When I grabbed the painting and descended from the stool, I turned to see the pair sitting at the table. Barrett was staring with a guilty look on her face. Vanilla had her head held low, she didn't even bother to look at me.

Right before I was able to walk out of the door, Whitney, another of my older sisters, entered the room. 

"Hey Fred. What're you doing here? I haven't seen you here in a while. Why'd you take that down?"

"I just wanted to take it. I'm just going to have it in my room."

"Oh, okay. You thinking of painting any time soon?"

"I don't know."

I did my best not to subconsciously call out the other two in the room. Clearly Barrett's face was still showing some kind of guilt because I noticed Whitney turn to look at her. 

"What about you two?"

"We were just having a chat, hehe, I was going to grab a canvas soon."

Barrett tried to feign a cheery mood. Vanilla didn't even turn to see either of us.

Whitney pulled me aside.

"Hey, did they say something to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Are you ok?"

"Yes. I'm fine, Whitney."

Whitney sighed and bowed her head down before coming back up with a smile. 

"I want you to know that there isn't something wrong with you, okay? Even if someone has a problem with who you are, it's not your fault got it? If you have any issues you can trust me okay?"

"Pff, yeah, I get it."

I wanted to laugh at her cliched statement. There was little I could do to change that I hadn't already implemented. Being reserved isn't a crime either, at least my parents, nor I thought so.

"Good, Boop. Love ya!"

"Hey!"

She flicked my nose and laughed. I laughed alongside her.

"Don't let me keep you from going if you don't want to stay, but if you want to come back some other time we can make something together."

"Alright."

I left with my painting in hand. 

Maybe some other day soon I'll take up Whitney's offer. I thought. 

Precious few things ever seemed to stray me from my regular routine.

During dinner mother asked me what I had planned for my painting since I had removed it from the art room.

I explained plainly that I wished to keep it in my room for the time being. Although a year had passed, I still didn't feel the need to share the dreams I had throughout that time.

Perhaps I was getting used to keeping secrets. Ever since that day Luca knocked me into a dresser and my memories returned.

In my room, I prepared myself to enter the dream world. In my hands while I laid down in bed were the painting and a story book that I enjoyed from a month prior, it was from a set of novels my father recently acquired.

After about a minute or two, I was in the dream once more.

Surprisingly, I wasn't in any new nightmare of Teresa's choosing, I was immediately brought to the reading room.

"Huh? It was that easy?"

"What?"

I didn't understand what Teresa meant until I lifted my hand and found the painting still firmly in my grasp. The book was in my other hand.

"I guess it was that easy. This book is-"

Before I finished speaking, Teresa snatched it from my hand and began to turn through the pages.

"Oooh, the pages are much cleaner on this, the spine looks freshly placed. Even the ink on the words look and feel fresh."

"Yeah, I figured you'd want a newish book. I picked a new one to avoid the possibility that I might've brought a book that was old enough that you might have your own copy of."

"That's doubtful, Father only kept hidden books in here, and I was allowed to read them. They were quite boring. You can take one if you like as a favor for lending me this one."

"Alright, I'll take you up on that. Oh! I also brought this."

"Hmm, hoh, is that the painting you told me about? It does look fascinating and eerie. Was this really what it was like to stare up into the sky from the moon every day?"

"Well it wasn't always clear, some parts of the dome were sealed off with metal panels for safety reasons. Here, I want you to have it."

"Thank you, it doesn't quite fit the room but I'll keep it safe."

"So, no nightmare today? Just a gift exchange and a chat?"

"Did you want to go through one?"

"Is it appropriate to not follow through with your father's wishes?"

"I'm allowed to give you breaks on occasion if I feel you need them. You intended to give me a gift and understand this 'place' we're in. I think that's an appropriate time to give you a break."

"Alright, I appreciate that. I was just worried that I might be lazing too much. Aheh."

I laughed a bit nervously, maybe I was being a little too hard on myself. I didn't want to admit it because I was afraid I'd use it as an excuse in the future.

"Don't worry I'll make sure you continue towards the path you sought after. Hmm. Soon enough you'll be done with them anyway."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"There are a set amount of things one could irrationally fear in this world. I can't bring to this realm something you nor I have ever experienced or are capable of imagining. That's why sooner than you think, you won't need to worry about the nightmares anymore."

I was elated at the thought.  An end to the constant panic inducing nights I'd spend in my own mind.

"I still get to visit here right?"

"If you'd like."

Teresa continued to sip her tea as she read through the book I brought.

"Oh? So you're fine if I just never visit again once it's over?"

"It's up to you."

"Be honest. I mean, I've been honest with you this whole time."

"Well, you say you're a child yourself, I don't think it's fai-"

"Forget about fair. I want to know your true feelings about it."

"Fine, truthfully, I want to keep having you around. It's lonely here. Except, I don't want it to be because you feel like you have to. I want your company but not your pity."

"Mhm. I get that."

"I didn't want to admit it because then you'd feel the need to come back, even if you can't stay forever or really help me. I can at least tell that much about you."

"There's a compromise here then. Although, I'm still not certain about what you're saying. What happens once the final nightmare ends?"

"You won't be forced to see me every night anymore."

"Forced. So I get to choose if I see you in my dreams afterwards?"

Another choice like the first? I contemplated.

"Put simply, I can accept the invitation so long as you send me one."

"Can you send me a so called 'invitation'?"

"I believe so, but I'm not sure."

Strangely, in the past year I've been with Teresa I've hardly learned anything more about her other than her isolated life or her father's work. I thought to make an opportunity out of this conundrum. 

I had my doubts about continuing these dream visitations with Teresa. She was right to tell me it had been out of pity. It was, but it was also fascinating to me and left me rested after a brief chat. Yet at the same time I hadn't found anything in particular to bring us into a true friendship.

Bringing the novel and my painting were simply another way I wanted to ease her suffering in my mind.

"What is it Fred?"

"Teresa."

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me more about yourself? I've already told you more than a bit about myself. I think it's your turn."

"I don't know about that. It's not anything pleasant or noteworthy."

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't still wanna hear about it. I'm not here to judge anyway. I'll just listen. You can start with your life before this room or just random facts about you if you'd like."

"Very well. When I was born, my mother had sensed there was something wrong with me. I seemed fine but my father brought in a healer to examine me. My heart had a hole in it. The healer couldn't fix it. My body was defective from the start."

I wanted to say something in that moment, but even I understood that wasn't the point of what she was saying. It wasn't that she was overly conscious of her body as if she had failed to do something herself. It was simply an acceptance that she would suffer in life.

"My father and mother didn't treat me as if I was too fragile. But it didn't matter how much time passed, every time I exerted myself I'd get sick later so bad I couldn't get out of bed. I know they wanted to treat me like there wasn't anything wrong with me. I just couldn't keep up with 'normal', it was even more obvious with my brother growing up alongside me."

Teresa never mentioned anything about her mother or brother before now.

"He did more than I ever could but I think I ended up making him feel bad too. That's why when he was old enough he left. He didn't say a word to me and my parents didn't stop him. I think he got tired of feeling bad for me. I don't blame him."

The way she described it made her brother seem cruel. Although, I can't say I don't know what that's like, my son left me too. Who knows what he went off to do? I thought.

"Then my mother and father stopped letting me go out on my own. In some rare occasions I could go out to the garden so long as my father carried me. I would also get really sick at times. The same healer that had diagnosed me when I was a baby would come to erase the sickness. It happened over and over, every other month. One day I stopped getting better. I don't know what it was, maybe the hole got bigger or I just stopped wanting to live."

I couldn't help but be reminded of my own feelings when I realized how pathetic I had been during my twenties in my past life. I wanted the same thing at one point; to just die since I had already given up. I got better, Teresa didn't even get the chance from the start.

"I was so tired one day, and my father looked very delirious as if something impossible happened. He tried to tell me everything would be alright, that I wouldn't have to worry about my sickness anymore. I can barely remember his exact words. I was in and out of consciousness at that point. He tried to keep me awake, but I stopped being able to open my eyes. I heard him wail. I've never heard him cry or yell at me, so it was kind of frightening. He held me I think, but I definitely heard the last thing he whispered into my ear."

"I'm going to dream you into a beautiful dream. Forever and ever."

The words seemed to come out of me without my control. I'd heard it before but it hit differently with Teresa. 

The right words echoed across time and space to reach this moment. It was strange but that was the feeling.

"How did you know?"

"I don't know, it's like it was at the tip of my tongue. I'm not making light of you or what happened, it's just the right words. There's nothing else to say because you know what that person means by it... What happened afterwards?"

Teresa seemed a bit confused by my explanation but continued.

"I ended up here. I saw my father reading in this chair and he started to talk to me. After some time he left but he'd come back every moment or so. He told me later that this was his dream but he gave it to me to live in. It became something more after that."

She stayed quiet for a while in her seat with her head in her hands. I decided to take a look at one of the many books on the shelf. One was titled, 'The Burgeoning Federation', it was odd to see the word 'federation' used in this world of fantasy. 

I picked it out and soon began to feel the tug of awakening.

"This place became the only world for me. It's my prison and safe room. Outside of it lies nothing and I can no longer come back to the world I was born in, my frail body must've long ago perished and turned to dust and bone. Fred?"

Teresa finally broke her silence.

"Yes?"

"Will you let me visit your dreams sometime? A real dream, not just the nightmares that overtake them because of me."

For once her eyes and smile didn't seem forced but instead pure. There was a longing for a true friendship that showed itself very obviously in her stare.

"I will."

The dream was over.