1.

We are in a dense pine forest. The trees are so tall they give the impression of reaching all the way to the starry sky. From somewhere in the distance, from the small valley beyond the forest, fragments of sound mingle with the heavy silence, and from the same direction, beams of light filter into the night. The weather is pleasant, and the air smells of resin.

"We must hurry. They’ll break free any moment," the blonde-haired girl beside me suddenly grabs my hand. "I can already hear them," she adds in a trembling voice.

I can hear them too, although I'm not entirely sure what we're talking about. I turn my head, trying to block out the laughter from the valley and focus on the deep humming coming from the other side, which is so unsettling it makes the hair on my arms stand up.

"We have to go," she tugs at me awkwardly. "We can't let them out..."

I nod.

We start following the sounds, which grow louder as we climb. The humming becomes clearer and eventually transforms into a melody, or rather an unintelligible and repetitive chant. We struggle through the wet, mossy stones, branches, and leaves, slipping often and feeling as if every misstep makes me sink deeper into the ground.

"Who are they?" I ask the girl. She doesn't answer, just keeps moving forward. She is wearing a long white dress, and her hair flows loose in the wind.

When we finally reach the top and stop in front of a large, white-painted house with no windows, the girl turns to face me and speaks:

"You have to save us. Will you do it?" she looks at me with pleading eyes.

"I’ll try," I add, seeing her terrified expression. "Don't worry! And stay here," I instruct her, then head towards the house. I step onto the porch and place my hand on the wall. I can feel the pulsation of those inside, the vibrations of their movements under my feet, but I can't detect their breathing or heartbeat. They must have noticed my presence because the bizarre chanting has given way to angry hissing.

It's a strange thing because I can't always control the conditions as I wish, so I’m not sure what I’ll be capable of or if it will be enough this time. I begin snapping my fingers until my whole hand heats up, then I swing it through the air, leaving sparks in my wake. Alright. Let's get to it.

The door is already half-pried open, and if they keep pushing so aggressively, they will break it down. It would be foolish for me to go inside, as they would surely overpower me in minutes, so with a wave, I fling the door open, then with an air blast, I pin those closest to the exit against the wall.

Faceless figures in white cloaks. Instead of heads, they have black spots that, like black holes, try to suck in everything around them. Some slip out silently, but before they can get far, I trap them in a circle of fire with a flick of my wrist. Two of them rush at me immediately, and I hurl fireballs into their terrifying, sooty heads, which wounds and knocks them down but doesn’t finish them off. Three fools who also charge at me, I blow onto the roof with an upward punch having the force of a whistling wind. I clench my fist, causing a rock to rise from the ground and crush another three brats instantly.

This time, I have strength, but not enough to burn them all to ashes, though the most practical solution would be to lock them in the house and set it on fire. But I just keep pushing them back into "their domain," preventing them from escaping and harming the blonde girl or those in the valley. However, I can’t defeat them; they seem immortal, or I lack sufficient anger.

A streak of orange-red appears in the sky, soon followed by the top of the sun peeking over the horizon.

I’ve slowly pushed all the dimwits back into the house or knocked them out, but this doesn't mean anyone is safe yet. I want to return to the blonde girl to ask if she’s alright or perhaps reassure her that I'll come back and finish them all off, but when I glance over my shoulder, she has already vanished into the faint dawn light. I feel the light slowly enveloping me, pulling me out with its arms, yet I still want to fight, but it’s too late; I’ve run out of time.

I open my eyes. There is semi-darkness in my room, with a few rays of light filtering through the blinds. I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. I glance at my phone’s display. I slept for 8 hours, yet I still feel tired. But that’s normal; only my body rests, while my mind stays awake and works hard, on a third shift. It never stops, and that has certain consequences.

I wash my face, comb my short black hair, then throw on some shorts, a red T-shirt, tennis shoes, and a denim jacket. I think about putting on makeup because I look pale, and there are deep circles under my eyes, but then I dismiss the idea. Why bother? It doesn’t matter how I look.

Before heading to the university, I grab a croissant, quickly smoke a cigarette, and down a strong espresso.

I don’t even look around the classroom when I enter; I just plop down on an empty seat and rest my head on the desk. I can still feel the scorching power of fire in my hand, the pounding of entities under my feet, and I hear their unsettling chanting and hissing. I’ve stepped out of it, yet here I am at the university, in a classroom I’ve been in a hundred times, and still, the walls feel so unfamiliar, the chair is uncomfortable, and the desk is cold.

"Hello, sleepyhead!"

"Oh, damn, Gigi. You scared me!" I jerk my head up suddenly.

"What’s up?"

"I’m tired," I reply indifferently.

"You always are. Don’t you ever sleep?"

"You know how it is..." I shake my head.

"I know, I know, just kidding. But seriously, I never thought about it, if you guys don’t dream, then how does your brain process all the information you receive every day, how does it sort and stuff?"

"Shh..." I put my finger to my lips. "Quieter."

"Whatever, no one cares what we’re talking about," she shrugs. "Everyone is glued to their phones. But really, how does it work then?"

"We dream too, just not our own," I reply grumpily.

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"Being in someone else's dreams or heads, or whatever, doesn’t count as you dreaming. You steal other people’s dreams. You’re like magpies...or which bird steals other birds’ chicks?"

"We help people, we don’t steal anything," I frown.

"Yeah, and you relieve them of anxiety, stress, they can sleep better, blah blah blah... I think it’s unethical. How can someone just agree to let others into their dreams, to do whatever they want in their heads? Do they even know what’s going on? Is it legal?" she spreads her arms wide. "Ugh, tell me you at least read the fine print before you signed the contract!" she looks at me with wide eyes.

"Of course, they know," I snap, but I’m too weak to show my annoyance. "It’s a new alternative therapy method. I’ve explained this a thousand times."

"Okay," she purses her lips. "And what’s in it for you?"

"What?" I massage my temples, hoping to ease my headache.

"What’s this 'job' good for? What does it give you? Besides making you look half-dead all the time?"

"Purpose," I force out through my lips.

"Purpose? For what?"

"It doesn’t matter," I turn my head away and pull a notebook out of my bag. "Anyway, the teacher’s here," I nod towards the door.

                                                                                   ***

We are all waiting in front of the door: Sebastian, Marina, Sean, Isla, and I. The fatigue is evident on all our faces, except for Isla, who seems unusually energetic.

"Mr. Peace said that soon we'll start working with our own patients and leave this whole dream stuff behind. I think this should be a relief for all of us," says Marina.

"I don't know," Sean crosses his arms. "I'm a bit apprehensive about this whole 'next level' thing."

"Why?" Marina looks at him, surprised. "This dream stuff is just training and exploration. We gather data here that will make it easier to understand and treat patients' problems."

"I love dreaming," Isla chimes in. "We have special abilities; how cool is that?"

"Don't be so childish!" Marina snaps at her. "As Mr. Peace has mentioned many times, our patients' dreams are not our personal playground!"

"But let me just point out how cool it is that we can fly, breathe underwater, transform, and do all sorts of amazing things. It's so realistic! I don't want to leave that behind just to sit in an office all day listening to patients' complaints."

"Then why on earth did you enroll in psychology school!?"

"Enough!" Sebastian intervenes. "This argument is pointless. How about everyone just waits quietly until Mr. Peace calls us in?"

"I second that," I roll my eyes. "And don't call them patients," I look at Marina. "They're not your patients; they're just lost, exhausted... wounded."

"And if they're wounded, aren't they sick?" she puts her hands on her hips.

I'm about to answer when the door swings open. Mr. Peace looks us all over, then gestures for Sebastian to come in.

It seems like I've been standing in front of the door for hours while everyone takes their turn. I'm the last one left. Most come out happily and energized, but none of them let on what it's about. Marina is the only one who emerges in worse spirits than when she went in, but she doesn't bother saying goodbye, let alone sharing what happened inside.

After Sean leaves, Mr. Peace gestures for me to take a seat, but he rummages through his files for a few minutes without saying a word. I lean back in the chair and start staring at his diplomas hung on the wall. Being an esteemed and well-trained psychologist was once my dream too, but those are dreams of the past now. Currently, it's uncertain if I'll even make it through the upcoming semester. Maybe I was too ambitious in choosing this path and didn't adequately assess my abilities. Or perhaps everything just piled up and I cracked under the weight of it all. I'll likely never be the same again, but I have to be someone, and in that regard, Mr. Peace has helped me somewhat. He embraced me when I most needed guidance and offered me an opportunity that changed my entire life. But I feel I'm going to fail at this too, sooner or later, I won't be able to successfully carry it out.

"So, Celeste. How are you?" he finally speaks, laying his glasses down and looking at me.

"Fine," I reply immediately.

"Are you? Why do I feel like you're not telling the truth?" he tilts his head slightly.

"Does it matter?" I ask with a bitter half-smile.

"Yes. And you know why," he says seriously. "The first rule..."

"If we're not well ourselves, how can we give credible advice to others?" I interject.

""We have to be mentally and physically balanced, standing firm so those who need our help can rely on us . It is easy to be swept away by other peoples negarive feelings and thoughts, to be buried by them…You know this very well," he raises his index finger. "I've monitored your recent work...," he changes the subject suddenly. "You maintain dreams beautifully, giving us enough time for assessments. The subjects report more restful sleep, a calmer mental state, and better overall well-being."

"And they don't find it strange that they don't dream?" I raise my eyebrow.

"No," Mr. Peace smiles. "All in all, I like how you work. You remain objective and purposeful. That's why, for the upcoming task, I'm pairing you with someone truly exceptional."

"What task?" I lean forward in my chair.

"You'll be part of a very important experiment, in fact, part of the execution team, which is a great privilege. It's not just about a large sum of money, but also a small professional reward."

"So?" I probe.

"For now, all I can say is, if the experiment succeeds, you won't have to worry about your further university exams."

"Is this not bribery, Mr. Peace?" I laugh.

"No," he shakes his head. "It's a deal. It's not an easy experiment, but I believe you're ready for it."

"And what about the others? Did they get the same?"

"No. I've assigned different tasks to each of them. But this one is special."

"And who will be my partner?"

"You'll see."

"How do you mean, I'll see? When can I meet them? And when does this experiment start?" I look at him confused.

"Tonight."

"Tonight?" I shiver. "But..."

"You'll find out the details. I just need to know now, are you in?"

I swallow nervously and lick my lips. I start staring at the tips of my shoes and ponder for a few minutes, then sigh deeply.

"What happens if I fail?"

"Deadlock." he replies unanimously.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Then count me in," I nod. "Let's do it."