The next morning, John set out early, heading to St. Michael’s Children’s Hospital. The air was cool, with a hint of the summer warmth that would arrive soon, but he barely noticed. His mind was on the challenge ahead.

When he arrived, the nurse at the front desk greeted him with a polite smile and directed him to the pediatric wing. The place smelled of antiseptic, with the faint beeps and hums of medical equipment sounding from the halls. As he walked, he tried to prepare himself for the conversation he was about to have. There was always a strange weight when talking to a child about their final wish, but this time, knowing the unique nature of the request, it felt heavier.

At last, he reached the boy’s room. Noah was a small, frail child of about nine, his head bald from treatment. His face lit up with a weak but genuine smile as John entered. John felt his heart squeeze—a familiar ache he’d come to expect in moments like this. It never got easier.

“Hi, Noah,” John greeted, keeping his voice warm. “I’m John. I work with Make a Dream, and I’m here to help you figure out your special wish.”

Noah’s eyes sparkled, and he adjusted his position in the bed. “I do! I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I want to meet a real villain. Someone… powerful.”

John blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Most kids asked for heroes, celebrities, or something more tangible. But Noah was different.

“Villains, huh?” John said, easing into the conversation. “They can be pretty scary sometimes. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather meet a hero? You know, someone who could show you all the cool ways they save people?”

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Noah shook his head firmly. “Everyone says that heroes save people. But… I want to meet someone who doesn’t have to do that. Someone who doesn’t care about being nice or winning awards. Just… someone who’s free to do what they want.”

John hesitated, taken aback by the boy’s perspective. There was something in his tone—raw and honest. “I see,” he said, nodding. “But what would you want to do with a villain?”

Noah’s face brightened even more. “I’d want them to take me on an adventure. Not just to fight, but to go somewhere exciting. I read this book about a dream world once. And it made me wonder if villains could go to places that heroes couldn’t. Like, into dreams.”

John felt a pang in his chest. *Dreams.* He knew all too well what she could do. He could practically feel the shadows of old memories stirring within him, the same sense of wonder he’d once felt before learning what a true nightmare looked like.

“Okay,” John said, keeping his voice steady. “But why a dream world?”

The boy’s expression grew softer. “Sometimes, I have dreams where I’m not sick. Where I can run and play without getting tired. I think that’s what a villain might show me—a place where things don’t have to be perfect.”

John listened, a mixture of admiration and sorrow filling him. It was no wonder that Noah’s dream was so unique. He was old enough to understand the harshness of life but young enough to see the wonder in a world without boundaries. John had come here intending to steer Noah toward a more conventional wish, but it was clear that Noah’s mind was set. He would have to find a way to make this wish come true.

“Well, Noah, I think we’ve got the start of something really special,” John said, offering a smile. “We’ll work on this together and make it happen.”

Noah’s eyes widened. “Really? You mean it?”

“Of course,” John replied. “A dream like this? It’s too good to pass up.”

The boy beamed, clutching his blankets like they were the most important thing in the world. For a brief moment, John felt like he was the one being granted a wish—to see someone so full of life and wonder, despite everything.

---

Later that evening, as John sat at his desk at home, he stared at the blank notebook in front of him. It was supposed to hold notes, sketches, or ideas for Noah’s dream, but he couldn’t bring himself to write anything yet. The weight of the task loomed large, not just because of its difficulty but because of what it meant.

He rubbed his temples, trying to banish the growing unease in his chest. Noah’s dream wasn’t just imaginative; it was personal. It wasn’t about meeting someone famous or flashy—it was about freedom, something the boy had been denied for so long.

With a sigh, John grabbed a pen and began jotting down ideas. He didn’t know how he’d pull it off, but one thing was certain: he wouldn’t let Noah down.