(no subject)

[therealkaichan]

Chapter 1


She had chosen the name Aislinn, because it had a pretty meaning, and it was a prettiness that had been lost to many ever since the Dragon had arrived.

It had been a bit of a selfish choice, she thought sometimes as she quietly let the machine record what she could remember from last night, as she carefully embellished the memories with some of her own ideas, but there was nothing wrong in being selfish if it hurt nobody, right? After all it had been her selfishness that had allowed her to let others see her dreams. It had been her selfishness that allowed the world to feel a dream again after so many years.

She always found it funny, to think that after having given up on the world, after having given up on hoping, she had found a reason to go on and a reason to love the world.

And all it had taken, was to find something beautiful.


Beauty, she thought, was something so so strange.

It was the sound of Mother’s violin, and the quiet almost annoying buzzing of the recording machine. It was the voice of the neighbor’s children asking their father for more sugar for their milk, and even the sound of the cars outside.

Beauty, was everything and nothing.

Beauty was a dream, and for a world that could not dream, beauty was something impossible to grasp.


Meryl’s dream was atypical. It was rarely that Aislinn got to see such a strange kind of nightmare, the kind of dream from which you felt you could not wake up. And that made it far more interesting.

She was sure the Editor would be as fascinated by it as she was.

Maybe he would find in the dream things she had not been able to find. Maybe he would understand why Meryl’s dream had felt so scary, so deep.

The Editor was a weirdo, she thought, but it wasn’t really his fault. In the world of the Dreamless, imagination was something hard to find, and for him consuming such things was almost like a drug.

Aislinn couldn’t blame him, she used to be the same as him not too long ago.

The soft beep of the machine as the recording was over took her out of her thoughts, and she grabbed the disk carefully, and put it on the envelope as always. Once the Editor was done exploring and cleaning up the details, he would release the dream to the people, and once more she would share a dream with the world.

Before going out, she turned on the Dream Inhibitor, and left the house.



The Editor was connected to the Thought Machine as she arrived, probably trying a new IDEA. It wasn’t anything new, he spent more time connected than on the real world, but it was always strange to find someone who didn’t mind being seen when they were hooked up.

Aislinn wondered what kind of thing he was seeing, but didn’t say a word. It was best to wait until it was over, so it wouldn’t ruin the experience.

The small room was in a place that she would not have visited otherwise. The air felt heavy, dirty with contamination, and the sounds were almost scary. It was nothing like her apartment, like the fresh air of her district. Even the industrial districts felt cleaner, and she couldn’t understand why someone would choose a place like that to live, a place that felt so dangerous, so lonely, but she wouldn’t ask either. They weren’t that close after all, even if they had known each other for almost two years.

Then again, the Editor was a bit of a junkie for strong feelings, maybe the danger made him feel good.

The Thought Machine made a soft blip as it stopped running the recording, and he opened his eyes. He looked as young as ever, but somehow, the Editor felt like an older person today.

“Good morning, Aislinn.” He smiled, and she politely smiled back. “I got a small treasure box today, and I just can’t stop looking at it.”
“You look terrible.” Aislinn nodded, and he laughed.
“They are sad ideas, there is loss and loneliness. There is the oppressing feeling of the impossible.”
“I see... Those aren’t that special.”
“No, but they feel different. I’ve experienced millions of these IDEAs, and yet these feel completely different.” The Editor removed the disk from the machine, and put it somewhere safe, his hands trembling just a bit as he did. “What do you have for me today?”
“Meryl is trapped in a place she cannot escape from. There is fear and suffocation. There is a sensation of being trapped.”
“Hopelessness... I can’t wait to try it.” The Editor finally got up from his chair, and walked up to her. She was always surprised by how small he was, as well, and she always found herself wondering how old he was. “You always have strong ideas, I’m sure it will be amazing.”
“Here you have it.” She offered the disk, and he took it with a nervous smile.
“I’ll write you your check right away.” The soft trembling of his hands growing a little stronger as he walked to the table, to quickly doodle the numbers on the paper. “I don’t know how you do it. You are twenty five and yet your thoughts feel so intense...”
“I don’t know myself... Maybe it’s just a gift, right?”
“Maybe it is. A wonderful gift...” The Editor laughed nervously, walking to give her the paper. “I wonder if this is how our great grandfathers felt. How life felt before the Dragon.”
“Who knows... Nobody is left to tell us.”
“Maybe one day...”
“I don’t want to get in trouble.” Aislinn cut him before anything else could be said. Words like those weren’t exactly forbidden, but they were frowned upon, and you never knew who could be hearing.
“I’m sorry.” The Editor’s voice was shaky, anxious, and Aislinn stepped back.
“Please check the disk, and let me know if you need anything else.”
“I will.” He smiled, walking to the Thought machine. “Be careful out there.”
“You as well.”

He didn’t even wait for her to say goodbye, popping the disk into the Thought Machine and hooking himself up. Aislinn rolled her eyes, and showed herself the way out, locking the door as she left.

At least he could be polite.


The way back home was nice. It was a beautiful sunny day, with the softest breeze to keep things from being too hot. The people were busy as always. Busy on the subway, busy on the streets, busy busy busy, and Aislinn wondered if life had been like this before the Dragon.

All books, and all testimonies said it was, but how could a world where everyone could dream be like that?

On the train back, she saw an old man, who was looking out the window with a tired look. She saw a young couple with matching rings. She saw a young woman, fidgeting with a small disk on her hands, probably a new IDEA she had just purchased and couldn’t wait to try. She saw a mother, who kept on giving soft shakes to her son to keep him awake. Whenever he protested, she reminded him that he couldn’t sleep until they were in a place where the Dragon couldn’t take his dreams.


It was a normal day, wasn’t it? And yet, there was a strange feeling in the air. Something ominous.

She wondered if it could be blamed on the dream. Like most people, she wasn’t as good understanding feelings as she was at feeling them, so the answer escaped her, and in the land of the Dreamless no book could provide an answer to what she felt. She always found it strange, how all the books on dreams had been removed from the libraries. She wondered if it was to avoid giving dangerous ideas to people, or if there was another reason.

Sometimes she entertained the thought of a world after the Dragon was gone. It was impossible, of course, the Dragon had been around for decades, and there had been no way for the Ministry of Oniric Affairs to find a solution to the problem. If the strongest scientific minds of four generations hadn’t been able to solve this, she was pretty certain there were very small chances of it ever happening.

Those were dangerous thoughts, she reminded herself. And dangerous thoughts weren’t illegal, but were exactly that. Dangerous. The kind of thoughts that stuck to her mind, and made her ideas dangerous. And she wanted to keep her dreams as pure as she could before moving them over to the disks, so they could be sent out as fast as possible. So, as she climbed down from the train and started the short walk to her house, she tried to distract herself by thinking what to do today.

As much as she would’ve liked to go back to sleeping, she knew that it wasn’t a good idea to do it right now. She wasn’t even tired, and she had discovered that forcing herself to sleep rarely helped her to see new places. The dreams ended up being shallow and repetitive, and those dreams were just no good for either her fun or her business.

She wondered if this was why the Editor was hooked up to his Thought Machine all day. Because he also felt the real world was lacking something.

Aislinn opened the door to her apartment wondering what would be best. Should she read a book, maybe? She loved the novels from before the Dragon, the images were so clear that they almost felt like she was using an IDEA. It was sad to think that little by little they were growing less and less popular, to the point that finding a novel was starting to be extremely expensive.

People had moved over to movies. She had tried to give them a shot, they should’ve been wonderful by all rights, like a dream she could watch but not participate on, but she had found that no matter how much she tried to like them, they always felt like a forced dream, shallow and uninteresting. She wasn’t sure what it was, but for her books were simply amazing.

As she sat and took a random novel from her bookshelf she tried to clear her mind.

Night would come soon enough, and with it another dream.





The place looked a lot like the Editor’s block. It was dark and dirty, and suffocating.

And yet, instead of the sound of the subway and the noises of the cars, there was silence. Silence.

Scary, deafening.

And yet, all she could think about, was what kind of dream she would see today. What kind of new place she would experience.

And then, the music started. Slowly at first, the violin and the flute, the very instruments her parents had played so long ago, long before Aislinn’s life had turned upside down

And then, a voice. A voice much like her own, singing softly along.

She turned around. This wasn’t normal, it wasn’t how the dreams usually happened. The voice was soothing, almost a whisper, and at the same time it overtook every other sound.

She couldn’t understand what the voice sung, but she could understand at the same time.

It told her to wake up. It told her that she should not do this again.

You can’t sleep until you are in a place where the Dragon cannot take your dreams.

The very words the mother had told to her son in the train. And yet, the voice was still her own. Still so familiar, and warm, and at the same time so very foreign.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Clara, wake up.


And she awoke, with a choked scream.

Her name.

That was her own name.


And it didn’t matter how much she tried to go back to sleep, her sleep was empty, no dreams, no experiences to share and live.

No violin, no flute, not even that scary singing voice.

Just blankness and silence.



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What the hell help it's writing itself.