In Your Dreams (A DahMo Fanfic)

28: No dreams

Mina gasps as soon as she enters the pantry. She treads carefully towards me, holding a tray of what looks like to be cereals and bananas.

"What?" I ask, my vision still a little hazy.

She purses her lips as she positions herself in front of me. "Momo-ring, I have no other way to put this: you look like a fucking mess." Wow, is it that obvious? If the prim and proper Ms. Myoui said that in such fashion, then it must be so. "Is everything alright?"

Why do people keep asking that question even though the subject clearly isn't? Should my dry, droopy eyes and disheveled hair indicate that everything's peachy?

"Yeah, everything's just fine. Just hardly got a good night's rest," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Mina peels the banana with robotic precision, like something that could be shown on the World Guinness Book of Records. "Anyway, Sana told me about what you were doing."

I rest my chin on my fingers, as I lean back on the chair. "What? My job?"

She reveals the tip of her tongue, pushing against the corner of her lips. "You know what it is—that you have created a version of Dahyun-ssi to rest in the...second level of your dreams—whatever that means."

The disemboweled copycat flashes in my thoughts again as I realize how parched my throat has become. "Had," I interrupt before taking a sip off of Mina's strawberry milk.

"Had...meaning you stopped doing it, right?" she presses further, raising the corn flakes before submerging them again in the bowl of milk. I nod, she hums and finally indulges in her breakfast. "Momo-ring, that's good. I know how it's like to grieve but, please, do not do anything so reckless again. Okay?"

Eyes shut, I quickly raise my eyebrows for affirmation. "That's good?" Right.

***

The pink blister pack shimmers against the single light bulb in the room. "Are you sure this works?"

"Oh, you have no idea. It'll be like turning off a switch," Chaeyoung says, snapping her fingers. Thankfully, she took pharmacy after college. People could even say she had a hand in me being a hyper dreamer.

She takes a puff off of her cigarette, blowing rings into the light bulb. "Tired of thinking about what to dream next?"

"Yeah...you could say that," I reply, wrapping the pack in my handkerchief before tucking it in my purse.

"I can only imagine. It's basically depriving you of quality sleep, right? I mean, you're still thinking of what to do, instead of just riding the wave," Chaeyoung comments.

"No. No dreams. I explicitly told you—"

"No dreams, yes, I know. Don't worry—it'll be as...natural as closing your eyes and opening them," Chaeyoung rebuts, her cigarette dangling off her lips, as she scratches her new tattoo. From the looks of it, it's a language I don't know.

"What's that mean?"

Chaeyoung twists her forearm to cast light on the body mark. "This? It's Latin. 'Vive ut vivas'—live so you may live."

"Never took you for the proverbial type," I scoff, reaching for my wallet. "So...how much for the pills?"

Chaeyoung finally kills the damned cigarette, looking up with a finger against her lips. With an off-market drug like this, I imagine this to cost an arm and a leg. "It's on the house. For you."

No way this is free. "...but?"

She swivels the chair to face me with a mischievous grin. "About that friend of yours...Mina? Give me her number then we're even."

I knew it. "Can't you just orchestrate a meet up at a café like a normal creeper? Seriously..." I groan at the idea of Chaeyoung treating me like a pimp.

Chaeyoung waves her little finger at me, accompanied by tongue clicking. "You know me—I like to play mysterious."

"No," I assert, counting the bills in my wallet. "Just give me a figure and I'll be outta here."

She bobs her head along the lo-fi hip-hop track playing from her speakers. "Okay, as a licensed pharmacist, I'll just ask for a prescription then: why do you need to sleep without dreams? Oh, and the reason better be good."

"Chaengie...you do realize that I already have the pills in my purse, right? Snitch and you're implicated here as well," I say, trying to imitate Dahyun's smirk.

Chaeyoung sighs, pursing her lips, and taps her fingernails at the desk rhythmically. "Wow, you're right! But...who do you think the cops will believe? Me or the dark circles under your bloodshot eyes?"

My teeth grit instantly. "Touché. Fine, just let me play matchmaker then." Seriously, why does Chaeyoung think an anonymous text would work anyway?