The Force In Your Hands

Julia

As I fell asleep this night, I dreamed of the same hall again, with its twelve large windows, the ten statues, and the columns.
But unlike my last dream, the hall wasn't fully lit up, but only one torch was standing in the middle, right where I was standing as well. All around me there was total darkness which let me stay next to the torch, for I was too afraid of what could be waiting for me in the darkness. I shivered and started getting cold, I was wondering how much one could actually sense in dreams, but I didn't think about it any further.
A few minutes later in which I had been all by myself, I heard the steps again, coming towards me. Just like the last time, I wasn't afraid. Suddenly, the noise stopped and I heard somebody clapping in their hands. All at once, the hall was lit up with an uncountable amount of torches, it got warmer right away and I stopped shivering. Then I saw the man from my last dream. He was wearing the same frock, and he looked serious.
"Good evening, Luna," he greeted me.
"Good evening... would you tell me your name?" I asked hopefully, but this hope was destroyed by his words straightaway, "My name is unimportant."
"Could you at least answer one question?"
"That depends on the question itself."
"Why am I dreaming of this hall and not some riding stable or something like that?"
"This hall is our sanctuary. Also, it's the only place we can meet untrained amateurs like you without having to expect a heavy collision," he explained and I ignored the touch of mockery in his voice.
"And why can't we meet outside my dreams? There, we wouldn't have to expect a collision!" Although I didn't really like the thought of meeting this man in reality. I didn't even know if he really existed.
"It's too dangerous to meet in the awake world. That's why I'm communicating with you through your dreams."
"Aha..." I said suspiciously.
"You don't believe me, not to mention you don't trust me."
"No, I actually don't. How could I? I don't even know if this maybe isn't just a fantasy. Much less I don't know if you really exist.
"Then let me show you something. Follow me." The man turned around and went away from me. He went in the direction he had come from. I followed him.
As we had finished crossing the hall, we reached a large, metallic double door and the man clapped in his hands for a second time which led to the door opening with a loud squeak.
I thought there would be darkness behind the door, but it wasn't like that.
Behind the door, there was a classroom, my classroom. I knew it was mine because as I looked outside the window, I could see our schoolyard. On the other hand, I didn't really know the inside of the room. The tables were new and not old and full of scribbling. The bell rang and the students came rushing in. They sat down in their places, and shortly afterward, the teacher came in with another student. She seemed to be new, for she was pretty nervous, kneading her hands and looking through the room all the time.
As I saw this student, my breath was taken away. I rushed to the mirror at the sink in the classroom and looked at it. Then I looked at the new student again. There was no doubt, this person was almost a perfect copy of myself. Only her eyes were green instead of blue. "She looks like me. Only the eyes are different."
"That's your mother, Julia."
The teacher introduced my mother and showed her a spot. My mother nodded and sat down right there. Then, the teacher started her lesson.
"How is that possible? No wait, it's all just a dream, I'm just imagining all of this!"
"Luna, why are you so suspicious? Just trust me for once! And imagine that this could be real. Please," he looked at me begging. I had never seen this look on his face.
"Okay, let's say this," I pointed at the classroom and the large metallic door that replaced the normal door in this classroom, "and you were really. What is this then? Because that is not my dream."
"My memory."
"What do you mean, 'your memory'?"
"Look, there in the back." He pointed at a homely boy with brown hair and dark eyes, eagerly copying the blackboard, "that's me."