The first seconds are the hardest, standing between worlds of dreams and waking. I anchor my body onto the ground, focusing on the shifting floor that appears more like waves than carpet. With a concentrated effort, I breathe in deeply, touching the papered wall, willing my stomach to settle. The room shifts and buckles as if it can't quite remember what its form is.
I double-check to make sure the gray scarf covering my red hair is in place. I program myself to wear a scarf since sometimes my hair color attracts unwanted attention. Our job is to watch, observe, and guide the dreamers through their dream to reach their Vault of Memories.
I blink to focus my vision. Soon I make out four adults sitting at a long rectangular table eating dinner inside a house. Now to figure out which one is our dreamer.
"You need to concentrate on college and your future," a woman is saying. She's wearing a constricting black dress and her white hair is yanked back into a tight bun. "Not playing games. Bringing shame to the family is the only thing that will bring."
"I'm sick of this," a light-haired guy says. His back is to me so it's hard to get a read on him. "This is my life we're talking about, remember? None of these classes are preparing me for what I want."
"Such nonsense." The woman picks up her fluted glass and takes a delicate sip. "Dreams are for fools. Besides, how often do they last before you come crawling back to us? Do I ever know about that."
Her chin dips and eyes narrow pointedly at the man to her right. It's then that Tony swaggers into the room, marching over to me and jerking his hand into a quick salute. "Dreamscape entry success," he says.
I take in his bright yellow shirt and flamingo shorts. "What are you wearing?" I whisper harshly as he moves to my side.
"I was hoping for a beach day." He shoots me a slow it's-totally-going-to-work smile. "Subliminal messaging. I've been reading up on it."
"You better hope the dreamer doesn't notice you and realize you're not from his mind. If you wake him up, our mission is a failure before we've even begun."
"When I win the Nobel Prize, I'm going to make sure you're in the front seat to watch, Aria. It's going to be epic."
"Shut up." But then he gives me his puppy dog look so I say, "Just make sure you say my name in your speech."
He chuckles and saunters over to the table. I gasp as he picks up a serving spoon and starts loading food onto a plate.
"What is he doing?" Sun appears beside me. Her pixie haircut is askew and her cheeks are flushed. She must have had a tough time acclimating. "Someone has to stop him. He's going to ruin everything."
"Sorry I'm late." Javier sidles up to the two of us. "Took me longer than expected to fall asleep."
Suddenly the blond guy stands, turning just enough that I can see the profile of his face. He's younger than I had expected, probably my age.
There's something about him that niggles at the corner of my mind. "I think he's our dreamer."
"Too young," Javier says.
Which is probably right since all our patients have dementia, so they've all been older.
"I'm out." The guy slaps his cloth napkin on the table. "Don't ask me to attend any more of your stupid Sunday brunches again."
"Uh, oh." Sun presses two fingers to her forehead. "I hate it when we shift right away."
The guy storms out of the room, throwing the Dreamscape out of whack. The walls begin to crumble into nothingness. The moment a dreamer transitions to the next phase of their dream, everything vanishes since the dreamer's consciousness has moved on.
Including us. If we don't move fast enough, we'll be kicked out.
"It's him," I say. "He's our dreamer."
Now that he's left, there's no reason to maintain our wallpaper pretense. I bolt across the room, jumping onto the table and scattering plates and glasses before dropping back to the ground and beeline for the door before it vanishes. The people within the room don't even look at me, instead, their bodies morph into nothingness along with the furniture.
Our target marches out the front door and seconds before it shuts, I stick my foot out, kicking it open. My team and I manage to stumble out seconds before the entire house dissolves.
My vision blurs briefly as the world around us changes. As my eyes refocus, I discover we're now standing on a beach. A wind kicks up, swirling sand around us.
"This isn't good," Sun says. Her usual perfectly ironed pants and chic designer shirt whip against her thin body like a flag braving a windstorm. "The conditions are going to get us kicked out of the dream."
"Stay on mission," Javier orders, "and stick close to our guy."
We take off after the dreamer as he heads toward the ocean. A buzzing sound cuts the air. A helicopter swoops down from above, landing beside our dreamer.
Inwardly, I groan. I hate it when these dreams get out of control.
"He's going airborne," I warn.
Gritting my teeth, I pump my arms, focusing all my thoughts on getting within ten feet of our guy. Before I can reach him, the dreamer steps into the chopper and it lifts into the air.
We've lost him. We're going to be kicked out of the dream.
Or will we?
I push myself faster and leap for the lower bars of the chopper. My hands grasp the cold bars of the helicopter, and I gasp as my body is lifted into the air, the wind whipping me back and forth beneath the belly of the helicopter. It's a stupid, reckless move that could kick me out of the dream, but solutions don't come without risks, right?
My hair untangles itself from the scarf and slaps against my face. My muscles scream in pain. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold on when a hand pulls me up, helping me clamber into the chopper. I belly over the side, my whole body shaking as I take in the height.
It's just a dream, I remind myself.
Below my team is staring up at me and I manage a half-hearted wave. Tony holds both hands up like a football referee calling out a touchdown. "You go, Air Girl!" he yells.
Then they all fade, consumed by the nothingness. As long as they remember they are in a dream and haven't accepted the dream as reality, they will be fine and wake up back in their sleep pods, completely safe.
Still, a pit forms in my stomach. I'm alone now so the responsibility of the mission lies with me. I swallow down my fear and face our dreamer.
But one look at him and my heart dives.
That sharp jawline. Those loose blond strands hanging over piercing eyes, deep blue like a summer storm.
I know this guy. It's Jake Sutherland from my high school.