Switcheroo, Who? - A Dream SMP Fanfiction

Ch. 1: I Think There's Been A Mistake

Manhunt!Dream POV

It was hot.

Very hot.

But also cold at the same time.

That wasn't normal.

Groaning, Dream sat up. He was on a bed still, so that wasn't new. Maybe he was just feeling hot because of the blankets, and cold because of wind coming into his house? He opened his eyes blearily, blinking a few times to get rid of fatigue. It was always a little hard to wake up with his mask still on his face, disorienting his surroundings. His green irises soon shot fully open, however.

A wall of lava was blocking the entire exit to his room.

.....A wall of lava?!

Dream jumped off the bed he had been laying on, running over to the bright orange barrier of molten magma. It seemed to be continuously flowing, streaming downwards past the strange floor of his room, and there appeared to be no way out. The male reached out slightly to touch it, almost in disbelief, but drew his hand back as the sheer heat radiating off of the substance met his fingertips. It was definitely real. 

The strange sensation of warmth caused him to look down at his hands then, in shock. His black fingerless gloves were gone, his hands bare. Bandages littered his wrists and forearms, and further inspection revealed that he wasn't even in his old clothes. His green hoodie and ripped black jeans, along with all of his other items and weapons, had been replaced with a slightly baggy but snug jumpsuit of orange. He wore simple white socks in place of his white sneakers, and a nametag labeled "0001" was patched above his left breastpocket.

Reaching up almost in a panic, he breathed a short sigh of relief as he discovered that his mask was still there, clasped onto his face at the back. He hadn't imagined that part, waking up. Looking around and seeing no one there, he removed the vizard from his head and took a look at it. Save for a decent crack that was lodged into the bottom right of the mask (that hadn't been there before?), it seemed the same. Dream frowned, looking around the entire room he was now in.

None of this was familiar.

Seemingly trapped in this room made entirely of crying-obsidian, there wasn't much to it. Purple veins lined the dim room of blackened stone, purple drops occasionally falling from above his head. The bed he had jumped out of was in the top left corner of the room, near a desk and large wash basin. A chest was placed at the foot of the bed, and a small chute-pool of water was located in the top right of the room. The ceilings were a bit low, and the chill of the floor was getting through his socks. Walking fast, he moved towards the chest and opened it immediately, as if looking for answers. A few journals and quills were placed inside, but nothing more.

Dream closed the chest, not bothering to read the books right now. His breathing grew fast as he surveyed his closed-off surroundings. He hadn't been here before. He didn't recognize this place. He hadn't been here when he had fallen asleep. He had been in his house, getting into his bed after messing around with his friends and seeing them off to their own homes, preparing for sleep and a coming "manhunt" in a week's time.

He hadn't been in here before.

He hadn't moved.

Then it all immediately came clear. It was obvious what had happened. He couldn't have gotten here on his own.

Exhaling shortly, he chuckled while running a hand through his hair, looking towards the wall of lava. "Alright, guys. Not funny. Let me out now."

There was no answer.

No sign of acknowledgement came from behind the wall of lava.

Dream tried again, clearing his throat. "Guys? George. Bad. Ant. Sapnap. I said, it's not funny. Is this some kind of prank?"