Second Life

#1 First Meeting

It all started when Dream's Grandmother passed away. Dream missed her and decided to move into her house so it could stay in the family. She was a big influence on his life, and being at her house meant a lot to him.

The night he got there, he noticed some strange things. He would hear the sounds of metal clinking and fabric being dragged across the floor.

Dream chalked it up to nothing and forced himself to fall asleep. He thought he was simply over-emotional, even though her death was almost a year ago.

It was hard to sleep. It was so quiet compared to his old apartment. It felt a little ominous. The shadows engulfed the room, covering everything in a veil of darkness.

The next day was rather productive. Dream finished unpacking, cleaned the house up, and explored the nearby town a little.

It was sad seeing a town he knew was always cheery when he was a kid now polluted and almost empty. The sidewalks were cracked and most of the stores and businesses were closed down except for a pretty depressing grocery store and a library.

The night was when things got stranger.

Dream was lying in bed, texting his mother, saying he was having a good time and was doing well. He lied despite his regrets just to give her piece of mind. His ears picked up on a distant sound. The sound of a piano.

Dream was certain he had turned off the TV. He stood up to go turn it off, the cold night air pinching his skin as he untangled himself from the dusty sheets. Then, a melancholy song interrupted his thoughts.

The voice sang of corruption and loss. The betrayal of family and the downfall of heroes.

It was a beautiful voice, sweet and modulated. Dream felt compelled to walk towards it, like a snake to a snake charmer. He let his impulses control him. Maybe there was a radio in another room he'd accidentally turned on.

Fear found its way into his chest as he stepped out of the comfort of his room. The floor was cold under his feet. The voice kept singing. It felt almost like it was calling to him.

The carpet felt better than the wooden floors but was still cold. Shadows played on the walls, almost like they were dancing to the music.

Dream found himself standing at the doorway to the study. He reached for the handle. He turned it slowly and just barely peeked inside, fear rising in his throat at the idea of criminals and house squatters.

What he found inside made him freeze. He held his breath.

There was a man around his age who sat at the old grand piano. He wore a king's outfit. A red cloak draped over his shoulders, and a crown was placed atop his head.

Up close, his voice was even more silvery and honey-dipped.

It was a beautiful sight. Dream was enchanted by the voice and beauty of this man, yet also petrified. His voice was pure and rich, his face soft and kind. He had a large white scar running down his face from his forehead to his cheek.

Then Dream noticed something as he slowly emerged from his trance, the man was completely transparent.

Dream gasped on instinct, then instantly covered his mouth, realizing what he'd done.

The man froze. He turned from the piano to the doorway. "I don't suppose you can see me, can you?" His speaking voice was as gentle as his singing.

Dream swallowed nervously. "No, I can," he stuttered.

The man looked taken aback, yet he had a hint of intrigue in his eyes. "Oh," he said, "You're, um, not supposed to be able to."

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Dream blurted out sarcastically, using joking wit as a defense. He internally scolded himself for his bitterness.

The man laughed lightly. "I suppose you think you're dreaming or something right now?" he inquired, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly.

Dream nodded. "That, or a see-through king broke into my grandmother's house to play her piano." Dream received another gentle laugh, a laugh he wanted to listen to for hours.

"Your grandmother could see me too," the man said. "It must run in the family." Dream nodded nervously, not sure what to say.

"You can come a little closer, I won't hurt you." Dream reluctantly walked into the room. "It's been a while, Dream," the man stated, looking him up and down.

"How do you know my name?" Dream asked quietly, heart pounding in his chest so hard he could feel it in his head.

"As I said, your grandmother and I were good friends."

"Well since you have my name, can I have yours?" Dream asked.
"George," the man replied. Dream realized he had a slight British accent.
"So are you like a ghost or..?"

George gave a wistful smile. "I suppose that's what I am."

Dream decided that he was going to go to sleep and try to process that entire conversation. George seemed to think that was a fair idea. However, he had one request.

"Can you please keep singing?" Dream asked, "You have a really nice voice."

George smiled and continued pressing the ivory keys, his voice soon filled the air to follow his hands. Yet now, he sang a soft song, it reminded Dream vaguely of a lullaby.

The song made his eyelids heavy. It carried him to his bedroom, where he fell asleep to the voice of someone who would change his life forever.