Lucas’s eyes flew open, and from somewhere deep within him came a noise—short, high-pitched, and unmistakably startled. 

Everywhere he looked, the world was made of candy—sugary towers, chocolate roads, and hills that seemed to sparkle with sprinkles. It was the sort of place a sweet-toothed child might dream up on a particularly lucky night. 

Yet, Lucas felt nothing but panic. He had let it happen again—his eyes had closed; the classroom had faded, and once more, he had lost himself in a world of his own making.

It had started a few months ago—these dreams of Lucas’s. But what unsettled him wasn’t their strangeness; it was how real they felt. He never had the sense of being fully asleep, and each time, it was as if he were living through the moments himself, too vivid to be mere dreams.

Once, he dreamed he was a towering giant, striding through a tiny village in nothing but blue-checked pajamas, the rooftops barely reaching his knees. Another time, he drifted high above the clouds in a hot-air balloon, deep in conversation with a parrot named Roger, who had rather firm opinions on politics. But lately, his dreams had been the best of all—carrying him far from the everyday world into a place where everything was more golden, more wonderful, and impossibly sweet.

Lucas was an ordinary 11-year-old boy. The kind of boy you could pass in the hallway every day for a year and still struggle to describe. He wasn’t the best at anything, nor was he the worst—just comfortably wedged in the middle, neither impressing nor disappointing. He kept to himself, spoke only when necessary, and if classrooms were stages, he preferred to stay in the wings.

Lucas wandered deeper into his dream, where the air smelled of melted sugar and the ground was soft as marshmallow. In the distance, he spotted a gathering of gummy bears, all clustered around a wise-looking chocolate owl. As he stepped closer, the owl turned and spoke in a quiet, knowing voice.

“Well, hello,” it said. “What can I do for you?”

Looking slightly sheepish, Lucas explained that he had dozed off in class and would be in for it once the teacher found out. “I was hoping you might have a way to fix this,” he added.

It cocked its head, blinking once, then twice, like a professor faced with an unexpectedly foolish question.

“Well, I appreciate the vote of confidence, I do,” the owl said. “But, and this might come as a shock, I’m not exactly equipped for problem-solving of this magnitude. I’m a, how do I put this delicately? An illusion. A phantasm. The product of your own, perhaps slightly overactive, imagination.”

“But I need to wake up.”

“Really? Because, and correct me if I’m wrong, ‘waking up’ sounds suspiciously like engaging with... people. Are we absolutely certain that’s a preferable use of our time than, say, delving into the infinite possibilities of the human subconscious?”

“Oh boy. Oh jeez. I did it again. I fell asleep. But I was just... I was listening to the teacher, and then... I’m dreaming. Okay, gotta snap out of it. Wakey wakey!”

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“Right, the teacher. Very important,” the owl said. “Look, kid, the world outside this little dreamscape of yours? It’s not going anywhere. It’ll be there, with all its disappointments and existential dread, right where you left it. But a good dream? That’s a rare bird. A unicorn, even. So, maybe, just maybe, close your eyes for a moment longer and appreciate the rarity of the thing before it’s gone, eh?”

At this, the gummy bears burst into “Glow little gummy bear, do do do…”. An unexpected and unwanted outburst that did not help at all but rather added to Lucas’ despairing mood.

And then, as if summoned by the storm inside him, something huge emerged from the cotton-candy clouds. It had a towering head of sour candy, eyes the color of old lemon peels, and a mouth filled with glinting, jagged teeth. Thick, bristling eyebrows sat above its glare—uncannily like Luca’s teacher’s.

The beast let out a deafening roar, and from its sugar-glazed wings oozed a thick, sticky syrup, splattering everything in its path. The gummy bears bolted in all directions, their tiny legs moving in a frenzy. Lucas, however, remained frozen, his body unwilling to obey the urgent commands of his mind.

“Interesting, Lucas,” the owl said. “Your mind is a strange and terrible place. I mean, look at this... abomination. It’s hilariously awful, isn’t it?”

“I... I didn’t... it’s not my fault,” Lucas said. “It just... kinda happened! I didn’t mean for it to be... like that!”

“No, you didn’t mean to. But you did, didn’t you? And panicking like a startled poodle hasn’t exactly improved matters. We’ve gone from a pleasant dream to... whatever this gooey disaster is. Honestly, you couldn’t have made more of a mess if you’d tried.”

And with that, it began. The monster’s wings snapped open, and it launched forward. Lucas didn’t wait—he tore down the bright, sugar-lined path, dodging past towering sweets as fast as his legs would carry him.

The beast moved with terrifying speed, closing the gap with every stride. No matter how fast Lucas ran, it was always just behind him, never tiring, never slowing. Its shadow stretched over him, dark and hungry, like something ready to strike.

The Owl flapped alongside him, its voice bouncing between alarm and encouragement. “Steady on!” it shouted. “Just a little further!”

But it was no use. Lucas soon found himself backed up against a wall made entirely out of sugar, with nowhere else left to go. He stood watching as the creature drew closer, its paws touching the ground without sound. Each step measured the shrinking space between them while its yellow eyes held his, unblinking.

It was at this moment, when things looked the worst, that understanding struck Lucas like a jolt of electricity. In an instant, everything fell into place. The monster before him wasn’t real—it was nothing more than a trick of his own mind, just like the Owl and the gummy bears. None of this was real.

“Finally caught on, huh?” the Owl said.

Lucas stepped forward, ready to face the creature at last. But before he could so much as raise a fist, it lunged. His hands flew up on instinct, bracing for impact.

To his utter astonishment, the ‘monster’ began to shrink before his eyes. It withered, collapsed in on itself, and vanished with a faint pop, leaving behind nothing but a wisp of smoke and an odd scent of burnt licorice.

“Mitchell!”

Lucas snapped upright in his chair, a pencil rolling from where it had been pressed into his cheek. When his eyes focused, they found Mister Trimble looming over him.

“Mitchell, do I need to graph the probability of your paying attention?” Mr. Trimble said. “Because judging by your vacant stare, it’s approaching zero! Were you off in dreamland... AGAIN?!”

Lucas slid lower in his chair, hoping to disappear as the snickers rippled through the classroom.

“Uh, y-yes, sir. S-sorry, sir,” he said.

“Sorry doesn’t factor into this equation! ‘Sorry’ won’t get you the right answer on the test! Pay attention, or you’ll be facing something far worse than daydreams.”