Author's Note: Another trial story. I have only a vague idea where I want to go with this story. I'm sorry. But please, let me know if you like it, okay?

This is not intended to be a love story, unless that is requested.

Also- this is more of a theme story- so it'll be a tad different than my other stuff.


Dream Weaver's Reality

Act 1.

I could see his face clearly, but at the same time it was as blurred and faded as an old photograph. He is nowhere, and yet everywhere I am.

I know him- I can hear his voice in my head, but he's not beside me…I don't know why..


I don't know what happened, but he's pleading.. I need to find him..


But I don't know where I should start..

At first, I'd just sit and cry, not knowing what to do, how to handle these extreme emotions that weren't mine- merely forced on me; the voice in my head that definitely didn't belong to me- talking to me, whispering thoughts, ideas, plots of revenge, plans for escape- I didn't understand.

Now I'd give anything to be able to have that information, hints to what I should do, where I should go…

Well actually, I know very well what I'm to do- search.

Search for my lost one.

And I do- using the abilities granted in my dreams, but denied to me when I wake: teleportation, telekinesis, telepathy, empathy, flight, and ability to walk through most solid objects (exceptions: doors and old crematoria urns for some reason…)

But, my search is always hindered- by the shifting of the landscape, the random thoughts that pull me temporarily from my dreams before carelessly throwing me back down, just as soon as I've forgotten what I was doing…

And then of course, there is the rising of the sun and my life outside- in the "real world" my "reality."

But I actually find myself more closely connected to him, and this world than to the world where my body lies.

The therapist that my aunt hired, says that this is because my dreams are just that- my dreams, my creations, I am able to play god in them, only I can influence them..

As opposed to 'the real world' where I hold no true control.

But what does the therapist know?

He doesn't truly know me, he only pretends to understand me- all he knows is what my aunt tells him, which is little, and only partially true.

But right now none of that matters- I'm flying now, over the ocean.

I've never seen the ocean before, except in my dreams…

The feeling is amazing, this is one of the few times I've been free. Normally I'm wracked with strange emotions, disturbing ideas, a need to find…him.

But right now- all I know is the wind in my hair and the sun just beginning to rise.

The sunrise…

Something breaks and my little world of peace is shattered.

It felt as if I was falling, and I woke up with a start.

I was drenched in a cold sweat, my hair plastered to my face.

My mind was racing, but I couldn't remember why. My heart was bounding in my ears, it seemed as if it was echoing in the still apartment, and then my chest tightened and my breathing becoming labored- I cursed, I had just initiated another attack.

I laid back and tried to calm down as my lungs began folding into themselves, tearing at each other. There was blood, filling her chest and throat- it began to suffocate me as my chest heaved. I rolled over and began coughing.

Red stained the white tiled floor as blood was forced from my airways.

It used to gross me out, both the feeling and the result, but I had grown accustomed to it. My aunt was another story…

You'd think after five years and a few hundred trips to the hospital, she'd be used to it by now..

Eventually coughing subsided and I was able to wipe my mouth and calm down, sliding back and simply oozing into the bed, boneless, muscle-less, just an exhausted ball of fleshy goo.

If its not obvious by now, I'm sick, very sick.

The doctors say it's a new disease, and one that's very rare- only 3 other people have it…

Apparently its so new, and so rare, that they're still fighting over a name for it, and haven't discovered if its from a pathogen delivered from the parent, a gene mutation, or a mutation from the level of pollution.

Two of them have a form that in and attacks the intestines, one has a form of it in her leg muscles and has been in a wheelchair for the passed eight years; I'm the only one to have it in the lungs.

There was another, a boy, he had it in his heart….

He died four days after birth, from blood loss.

I've only met the other three twice, only once were we all together…

The doctors say its something we're born with, but I must be a special case, because I cant even vaguely remember having anything like this happen before I came to my Aunt's.

But then again, it's kind of hard for me to remember anything before I came to my Aunt's…

Apparently someone broke into our house…and my father threw my mother and I into the car…

The person managed to shoot my father, who was driving, and we crashed, skidded and then slid into a ditch.

I went backwards through the windshield…

My mother had a two-by-four lodged into her chest…

I was in a coma for 3 months, and when I woke up, I had amnesia…and my Aunt was my legal guardian.

Occasionally, I'll wake up and panic, expecting an oxygen tube in my nose, IVs in my arms, bandages all over, making me look like a medical-tape mummy…

I wonder what I dreamed about for all that time, must've been good if it made me forget who I was for almost a year…

Slowly I sat up and looked at the clock. 4:37 AM- my private tutor would be here in two and a half hours…

Because of my 'condition' I cannot attend school- too much stress, too many stairs, and at least twice a week, I'm too weak to move.

I'm barely allowed to leave the apartment at all. Either because of the weather, or my aunt has to work…I'm never allowed to go out on my own..

I sighed and slowly slipped off the pseudo-bed my aunt made for me in the kitchen, so I don't have to worry about staining the carpet..

My legs were shaky as I folded the covers and placed them on the couch, and folded the cot up, resting it against the wall.

My Aunt offered to by me a wheelchair once…

I told her no…but she bought it anyway, and now it just sits in my room, with all the other things I don't want to see- pictures of my parents, a strange, blood-stained picture of a baby with dark hair, that was in my pocket that fateful night, along with other miscellaneous things from my parents' house…

I walked over and wetted a paper towel before beginning to clean up the blood.

When I was finished I threw the paper towel away and thoroughly washed my hands.

I turned on the coffee maker and went to take a shower.

I didn't always wake up this early, but it happened often enough I knew I'd want to be out of my Aunt's way- she's not exactly a morning person.


By the time my Aunt woke up, I was dressed and outside on the balcony in my slippers, a pale blue dress and a jacket, watching the sunrise from between the skyscrapers, with a steaming cup of cider in my hands.

I couldn't drink coffee, and there wasn't enough of a 'bite' in tea.

She opened the sliding glass doors and slipped out to stand next to me. "Good morning Faran. I'm surprised your awake this early." She said with a slight smile.

She was in a rather good mood this morning for having to go to work in an hour…

"Good morning Aunty Margarette! Your coffee is ready and waiting in the kitchen." I replied turning to face her.

She was 38- my mom's older sister by 2 years. She had shoulder-length auburn curls, warm brown eyes and tan skin- she went out in the sun at least twice a week so she didn't look 'pasty' because, and I quote, "It didn't suit her". But that supposedly was not meant to be an insult to me because I had "coloring that went well with pasty skin."

She was wearing an emerald-colored robe over her pajamas and hot pink bunny slippers.

I couldn't help but smile as I hugged her. She didn't hug my back.

I was used to it, she never did.

Instead she ruffled my still-damp hair and kissed my head before pulling back.

She wasn't big on physical contact, so I just turned my attention back to the sunrise and sipped my cider.

"So, how did you sleep? Did you have another attack?" She asked, her voice emotionless.

"I slept alright- no attacks…Just had a dream that woke me up and wouldn't let me go back to sleep." I lied, not looking at her. The less she knew about the frequency of my attacks, the less she'd worry, the less protective she'd be today- if I was lucky.

"Alright. Well come inside so you don't catch a chill." She said calmly before heading back inside.

Apparently I wasn't going to be lucky today.

I sighed and followed her inside, closing the sliding glass door and continuing to watch the sunrise, resting my forehead against the glass.

I contented myself with reading some poems by Emily Dickinson, while my aunt hurried about the house, preparing for my tutor's arrival.

She never let me help so I just had to sit somewhere out of the way.

"Because I could not stop for Death-

He kindly stopped for me-

The Carriage held but just Ourselves-
And Immortality.

We slowly drove-" I was cut off by my Aunt.

"FARAN! Don't read such depressing trite! Its not good for someone in your condition- its not healthy!" She said as she walked into the living room, straightening her vest.

She had changed into a coffee-colored vest and matching skirt, with a white dress shirt, a red tie, black leggings and red heels.

She was the executive of some huge company called "PSY-Key" and she lived just a few blocks away from the building. She wasn't about status, or class, she just wanted to be close and have easy access, should any problems arise.

I sighed and nodded- she was the authority of the house…well apartment, and I respected her- either out of conditioning or just natural impulse, I'm not sure.

She smiled and inclined her head. "Sharon will be a little late today- she called a few minutes ago. So just don't do anything too stressful and stay inside with the door locked, alright?"

Same orders as always.

I nodded "Yes, Aunty."

She smiled "Good girl. Be safe- I love you."

I grinned. "I love you too, Aunty Margarette, take care."

"Thanks Faran, now put that trash away…I'll have to talk to Sharon about that." She said as she walked out the door.

I sighed. Emily Dickinson wasn't 'trite' or 'trash', she was one of the greats!! …Or at least one of the most well known..

Slowly I set the book down at curled up on the couch, waiting for Sharon – my tutor, to come.

The apartment was so quiet I could hear everything…

I just closed my eyes and listened.

Cars 20 floors below on the street..

Muffled noises of people on the lower floors and outside…

Pigeons on the balcony outside calling to one another..

The sounds began becoming muted, slowly- like turning down the tv one decibel at a time, but in the last few moments it sped up till there was nothing but my own thoughts.

'What are you doing?' A voice- whether my own thought or something else asked in my head.

I'm resting..and listening…

'Why are you not outside with the others?'

Because I do not belong there, on my own; it isn't safe.

'Who says so?'

How juvenile this conversation was becoming..

My Aunt of course..

'And what does she know?'

Lots…especially when it comes to my safety…

'But she disrespected the poem, without a second thought.'

She's just trying to keep me thinking positively. Negativity is bad- leads to depression…

'What was so negative about it?'

It was about death, duh..

'What's so bad about death?'

It makes everyone close to you sad…

'Who's close to you?'

Aunty Margarette…and Sharon..

'You need to be more assertive…or at least more adventurous.'

I have no reason to be, I'm content right here..

'If you say so.'

I do say so..

Woah, I'm talking to myself, scary, scary stuff…

I must've fallen asleep- though I don't remember when. But when I woke up Sharon was sitting at the dining room table, looking over the work I had laid out before Aunty left.

She had a key to get in- Aunty thought it would be best incase something like this occurred- where I fell asleep or was otherwise unable to get to the door.

I slowly sat up- slightly dizzy, and moved to my feet. I padded over and smiled slightly. "Good Morning Ms. Sharon…sorry for not being awake to get the door- how long have you been here?"

She looked up, her hazel eyes blinking behind her glasses. She had short red hair and freckle-covered pale skin. She was wearing a black shirt and blue jeans, her shoes resting by the entryway.

"Good Morning Faranfalli…its quite alright, I've only been here ten minutes or so.." She said quietly- she wasn't a very loud person, and rather meek.

So I considered her easy to get along with, especially considering she was fresh out of college and closer to my age than my aunt.

She smiled faintly and I grinned. "Have you eaten anything?"

"Yes- and I brought doughnuts.." She motioned to the bag on the table next to the pile of my textbooks.

"You're so awesome!" I laughed as I sat down in front of her and we began working, between eating and getting up to get drinks or napkins.

English, Philosophy, History, Latin, Ancient Greek, German, Calculus..

Then a break for lunch – which consisted of delivered Chinese food and some sushi from the day before yesterday. And then we continued with Chemistry, little bits and pieces of Physics, Composition, and then my favorite- Creative Writing.

It was after four by the time our session was over and we decided to go out and spend sometime in the park.

So, after losing 2 out of 3 games of rock-paper-scissors, I had to call my aunt and ask for her permission.

I dialed the number and mock-glared at Sharon who was sitting on the couch grinning.

My Aunt's secretary answered. "Hello, Margarette Carr's office- Janice speaking."

"Hi Janice, it's Faranfalli- Margarette's niece.."

"Oh! Hello there dear, how are you?"

"I'm fine…but is Aunt Margarette there?"

"Yes- I'll transfer the call, please hold, dear."

"Thank you." I leaned against the wall as the irritating elevator music came over the line.

1…2….3…4…5…I'm going to poke my eyes out and shove them in my ears if this music doesn't end…

Woah that was pretty violent..

Ah, who cares...

There was a click and my aunt's voice drifted over the phone. "Faran? Whats going on? Are you alright?"

"Hello Aunt Margarette- everything is fine, Ms. Sharon wanted me to call you to see if you'd let us go to the park for some hands-on environmental science…"

There was a sigh and a thunk, then the rustling of cloth- she was probably massaging her temples.

"How do you feel?"


"No stress?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Don't call me 'ma'am'…alright?"

"Of course, Aunt Margarette."

"Good girl- you may go, but make sure to wear good shoes and a coat…And Stay with Sharon!"

"Of course, Aunt Margarette, thank you."

"You're welcome. Take care."

"You too. I love you Aunt Margarette."

"I love you too."

There was a click and I hung up the phone before turning and grinning at Sharon. "She said we can go."

Sharon grinned. "Alright! Grab your stuff and let's go!" She said, jumping off the couch and pushing her glasses back onto the bridge of her nose.

Maybe today was a lucky day after all.


End Ch.1