The cover of the notebook reminded Samillina of the field of waist high dandelions she’d regained awareness in, after falling through the dream that had made her. Magazine pictures covered it--hearts and a cute couple kissing, and a woman walking through a field of yellow flowers.

     There were even cut out words--love, beauty, happiness.

     It was a positive cover. It was evidently happy land.

     She’d found the notebook in the back of an old closet, behind some folded up flannel shirts way in the back. She sat, back against the wall, beneath some hung up dresses and pants and shirts. Something tickled her nose, dust or a cobweb, or some hanging thread, and Samillina sneezed. 

     “Crud nostril!”

     There was something familiar about this notebook, a nagging feeling that it was somehow connected to her. It was unsettling. She hadn’t thought about the world beyond Melvin’s house in forever.

     She opened the notebook. The words blurred and faded away before she could read them, but not before she caught a sentence.

     “The most beautiful dream in the world.”

     Samillina left the closet, wanting to be back in her room, where she could stare out her window and watch the ever-changing landscape outside, as Melvin’s house traveled between dreams. She clutched the notebook to her chest.

     Her room was down a different hallway, with broken lamps along the walls. Only her and Melvin existed in this huge house, most of it completely forgotten. One could get lost in it. Samillina loved exploring. She collected things she’d found in the house--a row of antique perfume bottles on top of her dresser, piles of dusty books by her bed, clocks on her desk, all stopped at the same time, piles of stuffed animals in one corner. Dolls were on a shelf against the wall. Her closet was filled with dresses and hats. Her full-length mirror was distorted and covered with smiley face stickers.

     Striped curtains covered the window above her desk. She went to it and pushed the curtains aside and peeked out.

     The house floated on a cloud. Clocks floated in a blue sky.

     It changed. The branches of a huge tree waved in the breeze and banged against the windowpanes. A full moon rose in the sky, huge and orange.

     Excitement bubbled through Samillina, and her hands shook as she closed the curtain and sat back on the cushy and patched chair in front of her desk.

     She imagined journeying through the dreamworld, exploring it, finding the most beautiful dream in the world. It would be bigger and vaster than Melvin’s safe house, and there’d be all sorts of things to collect. And she wanted to do it on her own. She didn’t want to be stuck in a house anymore with Melvin. There was still this nagging feeling when she touched the notebook, that it was connected to her in some intimate way. Maybe she was meant to find it.  

     Melvin said she was a dream hopper figment, and that was the reason she’d fallen through the dream that had made her. It was time to start taking advantage of her supposed abilities. She wasn’t sure how to do it though. She’d have to ask Melvin.

#

     Samillina packed a few of her favorite collectibles in a brown knapsack, decorated with large heart beads and polka-dotted patches. She put in the bag a necklace of white pearls, a rubber ducky, a statue of Jesus Christ, and of course the notebook. She sprayed some perfume in a rose-colored bottle and wrinkled her nose. It smelled terrible. She added it to her bag.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

     She changed into a white dress with pink polka-dots. The straps of the dress kept falling down. She put on a pair of white flats. She swung the bag over her shoulder. She was ready to go.

     She glanced around her cluttered room one last time. She sighed a little, but then the excitement came back. There was so much for her to see and explore and collect.

     A bottle of bubbles was on the floor by the dresser. She didn’t remember that being there before. She picked it up. There was a smiley face on the cap.

     She put it in her knapsack.

#

     Melvin sat in the kitchen at the table as usual, reading a newspaper and drinking tea. The dim light gleamed off his bald and sweating head. He wore a brown bathrobe over puke green jogging pants.

     Samillina stood up straight. Excitement made her words come out in a rush.

     “I’m leaving, Melvin.”

     Melvin’s face whitened. His eyes bulged out further.

     “I’ve decided I want to go dream hopping and exploring and collecting. It’s time to make use of my abilities.”

     Melvin set his newspaper down and went to the stove. He refilled his teacup. The kettle rattled when he set it back down. Dirty dishes covered the countertops, most with molding food inside. A fat white mouse nibbled on a wedge of cheese by a canister of sugar, which Melvin now opened. He added sugar to his tea and drank it in a rush.

     Samillina waited for him to say something, anything. She squirmed with impatience. She pulled at her pale blonde hair.

     “Well, aren’t you going to say something?”

     Melvin sat back down at the table.

     “You can’t leave, Samillina.”

     Samillina frowned. “Why not, Melvin?”

     “Because it’s dangerous. Unconscious Being--”

     “Something that horrible can’t exist. You made it up so I’d stay here forever.”

     “Figments don’t exist forever.”

     “I know that. I didn’t mean it literally.”

     “Ah, tsk tsk, is Samillina getting angry?”

     According to Melvin there was this creature out there called Unconscious Being. It devoured fragments and figments and dreams. It would especially want her because she could hop between dreams and her essence was stronger. At least, that’s what Melvin had told her.

     “I’m not mad,” she said. “I can take care of myself, and there’s no Unconscious Being.”

     It couldn’t get her in Melvin’s house because it moved between dreams.

     “But you’re so young. You were existed just yesterday!”

     “Was not. I’m not a baby, Melvin.”

     “Awe! Baby Samillina!” Melvin chuckled.

     “I need to know how to dream hop,” she said, shifting her bag further up on her shoulder.

     Melvin continued chuckling.

     “Stop chuckling!”

     He chuckled louder. He wiped sweat off his forehead. He was sweating a lot more than usual. He really must be afraid for her safety. It took Samillina back a little. Maybe he wasn’t making it up.

     “I’m going no matter what.”

     Melvin stopped chuckling.

     “But if it finds you--”

     “It won’t, and it’s not real. You just don’t want me to leave.”

     Melvin ripped off a corner of one of his newspapers.

     “Now, how do I dream hop?”

     “You’re serious?”

     Samillina nodded.

     Melvin sighed. “You have to pick a means of opening doors into different dreams.”

     Samillina smiled, sudden excitement filling her.

     “Bubbles?” she asked.

     “Whatever works for you, baby Samillina.”

     “Stop calling me a baby.” Samillina wanted to strangle him.

     “Tsk tsk. Such anger. Such hostility.”

     Samillina fumbled in her knapsack. She pulled out the bottle of bubbles. “I found this in my room.” She opened it.

     “If Unconscious Being finds you, it’ll make you its lunch.”

     “It won’t. It can’t. It doesn’t exist.”

     She ignored her nagging doubts. She blew bubbles. They came out multicolored. They flew around Melvin’s disgusting kitchen. In each bubble an image flickered--a face in one, a tree in another, a house made of cracked and warped mirrors. Faint voices filled the kitchen, and music, and the smell of grapefruit. Melvin looked stricken, but then he chuckled again. Samillina hated that. Why was he chuckling anyway?

     Samillina reached out. She popped the nearest bubble, with a teacup flickering inside.

     The room spun.

     “Goodbye, baby Samillina. Goodbye.”