Insomnia

5

"Come on!" one of her informants yelled. "You can't just leave like this! We spread the word like you said, asking for weird reports, bugs, nightmares. And someone had answers you were looking for. Just like you asked."

Esme sighed. She would definitely have to give out some kind of reward if she wanted intel to keep coming in. Autographs maybe? A dream experience, just for them? Those were typical requests.

"What do you want?" she asked irritably.

The same woman raised her hands up in apology. A blue pixie bob and lime green trousers. So many people felt they needed to go for the most extravagant looks imaginable in Somnus. The thought gave Esme pause as she folded her arms and considered her own outfit. Nautilus was hardly a bland choice of attire.

"We're not looking for much," the woman said, before continuing, "Hope we haven't gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Margaret Sawyer. I've been following your work for years."

There was a brief chorus of similar introductions before Esme scourged them into silence with a short hiss of air. The young woman who'd spoken first seemed pleased by the rebuke of her counterparts. Esme just found it annoying when they all tried speaking at the same time.

I don't care what your names are. Any of you." Esme nodded at the woman. "Speak for the rest. What do you want?"

"A lesson, "the woman declared.

Confusion.

"A lesson? About what?"

"'About what'? You're one of the best Psions in Somnus. What else could we be asking about?"

Esme sighed. It wasn't the first time she'd been asked for this.

"You want me to teach you to dream," concluded Esme.

Nods from the crowd. She resisted the urge to shake her head. Dreaming was an instinctive art. It relied on willpower, focus, and a natural empathy for different worlds. It was not so easy to teach.

"Fine" she muttered. There was no harm in trying. "What do you want to know?"

A scattered shower of mumbled suggestions came as a reply. It didn't look like they'd thought this through.

"Dueling," a voice called out. She turned to the source. Alan Carver.

Esme was reluctant to impart much wisdom on offensive dreaming. Too dangerous. But there were some self-defense skills that could be useful.

"Okay then," Esme agreed. "Dueling. The basics."

She banished light from this world, bathing them in darkness for a moment before the dream flashed back into existence. They stood at the center of a massive coliseum, marble pillars baked brown by dust. The floor was sand and part of the structure had sunk beneath a layer of desert.

It was one of the first creations of her artistic career. She sold users the experience of fighting in a pit as gladiators against increasingly desperate odds. Winning every battle was impossible. The real trick to clearing the dream was to convince the other fighters to attack the guards then rampage through the stands to slay the corrupt emperor and his elite soldiers. She had drawn initial inspiration from a history book on the Roman Empire and filled in the gaps with her own imagination. Critics had called it 'surprisingly rich in detail' but 'conceptually dull'.

It still put a hefty sum of money in her account so Esme didn't feel too discouraged.

"First lesson," boomed Esme. The acoustics in the dome like chamber carried her voice farther than she expected and had the desired effect of drawing their attention. "Knowing your character. Whenever you step into the dream you have a part to play. Some way that you fit into this universe - a purpose you have to fulfill. Something you feel compelled to do even if you don't really know why. This helps set the boundaries - what is, and isn't possible to accomplish. For example."