He Who Weaves Dreams | #ONC2023

3

Dreams lie but dreamers don't.

Tina couldn't see what form she was in. That was the way in dreams, he said. You never looked the way you did in real life. The girl looked around her, noticing that her dream was dark and foggy.

"Hey!" she called out. "Anybody there?" She willed herself to go in front. In dreams, it was as though you didn't have feet. Only the desire to do things would move you. Forward. Forward. There must be something to see in here.

A piece of familiar music engulfed the pitch-dark place. It was from a music box, playing the song "Ode to Joy" composed by the deafened Ludwig van Beethoven.

Suddenly, she was in a bright room. No more was darkness surrounding her, only walls taped with different-colored pillows. Above her was a big crib mobile with the sun, moon, and stars hanging from it, moving clockwise slowly, as if dancing to the eerie sound of the music box.

Tina willed to go forward again. But she was stuck. What?

Dolls.

Only then did she notice that dolls were surrounding her, bigger than her and shaped like kids dressed in modern clothing. They looked lifeless but seemed alive at the same time. Their large heads tilted and looked at her as their cries resounded in her head. Their voices mingled with the damn song playing on repeat.

She didn't like this anymore.

She was getting scared.

Now cared less whether he was telling the truth.

She needed to get out of this weird place and wake up. Right now.

But, she couldn't. Like how she couldn't move, it seemed like she couldn't do anything anymore. She tried again, willing for her eyes to open and the nightmare to end. Panic surged within her.

The music box kept playing. The dolls kept watching. The cries echoed inside her head.

Please.

Would she end up getting trapped in this dream? Her body laying in her bedroom like one of those dolls, lifeless yet seeming alive?

"Dreamweaver!" she shouted with all of her might. "Where are you? Please, help me!"

No response.

Then, the soft floor of the enclosed room collapsed, and she fell into another dark abyss, the dolls falling with her. Her "feet" touched something thin and she balanced herself above it.

A thread?

She was stepping on a brown thread and it led to a throne. Sitting on the throne was a silhouette of a figure very familiar to her--the Dreamweaver.

It's true. Tina sighed in her mind.