The Dream Machine

Four

Throughout the years, I've noticed one weird thing about George's bedroom, besides the fact that it is blue all over, it has the distinct smell of tomato sauce, whether its because he gets sprayed by a skunk a lot or if he loves eating spaghetti in his room, I can't tell.

"So, what's this thing you wanted to talk to me about?" he asked, as we sat down on his bed, dumping our backpacks onto the floor.

"Okay, this is gonna sound crazy," I started, "but I have this gift. Whenever I fall asleep, my dreams show me what's going on during my unconsciousness."

"I'm sorry, you lost me," he admitted.

"Fine, then I guess I'm gonna have to show you, but we can't wait around for me to go to sleep. Do you have any sleeping pills in a medicine drawer or something?"

"No, but my dad has some chloroform."

"Why does your? Never mind, well, desparate times call for desparate measures. I can't believe that I'm saying this, but George go get the chloroform."

"You must be pretty serious," he said as he ran out the door to find my doom in a bottle.

"You have no idea," I exhaled. Why was I doing this? It was for Lizzie, I know, but, was it worth my total unconsciousness. I realized it was as George came back with the jar and a roll of paper towels.

"Are you sure you wanna go through with this? I mean, chloroform can be pretty unpredictable. It could possibly kill you. You know what, you're just gonna have to fall asleep on your own."

"Okay," I replied, lying through my teeth.

"Good, so to start, I put this band around your head." George informed as he grabbed an green, elastic band from his desk and wrapped it around my head. While it looked like a regular headband, it had metal around its interior, leaving a cold feeling on my skull. The band had wires connected to the steel which came together as the cord went into a flash drive that was plugged into George's labtop, "Now, let me just start my program. I call it The Dream Machine."

"Original. Now, has the program started?"

"Yeah, now you just have to..." his words were cut short as my hands grasped onto the chloroform jar and a wad of paper towels, opening the liquid onto the cloth and shoving it to my face, "Sandler!" George yelled, but it was too late, I had collapsed to the floor as my vision blackened.

I woke up right outside my school locker, sitting on the ground. It was where I had last experienced my gift. Then why hadn't I woken up in my room last time I did this? And the biggest question of them all was why there was a teenage girl opening my locker? The soles of her shoes were evaporating as they went through my transparent body. This didn't make any sense. One, it was after school. Two, that was my locker! 

I got onto my feet and walked into Mr. Sanchez's room, but Mr. Sanchez wasn't in there. It was Mrs. Lansbury, the science teacher, from way-back-when, but still substitutes. Wait a minute, had my powers sent me back in time? It seemed that way. I guess, there was only one way to find out.

My feet sprinted out of the school. I was heading for the place where my life had really been jump-started. Sweat poured down my ghost-like body as I ran over streets and intersections, not worrying about any traffic. I finally reached the building I was hoping for. It still had the fake clouds and rainbows painted on  the side of the school. My hand found the doorhandle, and I quickly pulled the door open. Kids were running around every which way: chasing each other, running away from a parent, or just doing it because they wanted to. 

I walked to the window of Mrs. Dinglebin's room and peered in. There I was reading my storybook, and there she was, beautiful even through the glamour of toddler. She was playing with a different boy, someone oddly familiar. It looked from a distance like George, which I would've been totally okay with. But I noticed that it wasn't, it was a different boy, not even Lloyd, and he turned around and stared at me. "Sandler?" he asked.  

"Yeah?" I replied, opening the classroom door and inching my way inside.

He answered with a smirk, "This is her, isn't it?" gesturing to 4-year-old Lizzie. 

:"How do you know?" I hiccuped, questions flooding my thinking space. How did he know me? Heck, how could he see me?

"Let's just say, you're not the only one who has dreamscapes." with that said, the child disappeared, leaving Lizzie to walk away and towards me, "Behind you," he teased. 

I turned around, now he was an adult with messy brown hair, and shiny green eyes. I was already afraid of my newfound adversary, "What are dreamscapes?"

"This," he exclaimed, twirling his fingers around towards the sky. 

"My abilities? That's what they're called?" 

"Yeah," he streamed, "but don't worry, your powers aren't the only thing that can save the world. This isn't one of those stories."

:"My life isn't a story." I declared, "It's my life." 

"Oh, you have so much to learn." he proclaimed.

And then I woke up.