IRIS - Harry Potter Fanfic

Prologue

When people wake up, most will not remember what they dreamt of the prior night. Most people just move on and don't even think for another second about it. Their alarms go off, they jump out of bed and make themselves ready for the day. Some people say it is the best kind of sleep. You don't have to worry. You just get your sleep and move on. I don't get those people. Dreams are amazing. Your brain creates these elaborate stories that would have never crossed your mind. It gives people ideas to create new stories with, make ground-breaking discoveries and even some see it as reality. That a god came to them and spoke to them in riddled messag you need to figure out the following day. Others do dream, and they know they dreamed, but they don't remember what they dreamed off. On the verge of knowing what it is about, but regretfully forgetting about it. However, once in a while, some do remember their dreams. Once, I heard from Tony in the Leaky Cauldron that he flew through the sky. He said he had wings like an orc and flew through the white clouds and sun setting horizon. However, he also once told me he dreamed he was stuck inside a glass of butter beer and had to drink the entirety to get out. I wouldn't take his words too seriously if I were you.

When I dream, everything goes cold. I don't see anything. I don't hear anything. No doors. No windows. Nothing. It's like I'm trapped in this black box without any walls that goes on into eternity. There is no furniture, so I usually sit on the floor and wait until I wake up again. Sometimes it is just a few minutes and the next day has arrived. Sometimes it feels like hours and I'm counting the seconds until I wake up again. I can't talk about my crazy dreams to friends or to Tony. I don't have them. I always end up in that endless black box.

Sitting in that room for hours on end isn't the worst part of it. Usually, I make up my own stories to keep me busy. I imagine how I'm this big warrior and a commander of a big army. Everyone wears gold armour and has their diamond swords in hand, ready to storm the castle to save the prince. All those stories where the knight saves the princess is rubbish. Why do girls have to be the damsels in distress and need to be saved by a man? All of those writers are probably men that have nothing better to do than... Sorry, going off track. Most of the time it is alright. I keep myself company with my ideas and have conversations with myself. If you have nothing to do, what else would you do?

Waking up is the worst part. Sometimes, I can sense it early on. It's like someone putting a hand on your shoulder. Then another. The hands turn into big clothes, wrapping themselves around your arms and legs. The clothes get tightened, like a giant tying its shoe laces. Then they pull you up, out of the black box and into the real world again. These are the nice ones. You also have the not so nice ones. At first nothing happens, then it's like you're in the middle of a tornado. You get pulled from left to right. Your feet don't hit the ground anymore and you're stuck inside a sleeping bag where you can't get out of.

What is always the same is the end. The second before waking up. It's the thing I look up at least. It is this sound that doesn't change. I think it is of a woman, but I'm not certain. It is this gut-wrenching scream I can't get used to. That scream sounds like a person going through the worst kind of pain possible. It is desperate and painful. It is a scream I have never heard anyone else produce. I don't know who it is, what it is and why I hear it every time I wake up.

I want to dream. I want to have those crazy stories my mind makes up and make me go to different places. Instead I'm stuck in that black box, with no way of going to the dream world.