Finally, it ends. I'd be glad to relax, but then I remember I have to go home. It's hard not to sigh once I walk into the sunlight and feel the cool breeze cleanse the heat of the temperature that cannot make up its spastic little mind. Usually, it's after school when people begin to approach me, asking me for the use of my power tonight so I can relay what happened when they forget what happened. People can be humorous sometimes, always flocking to the most mysterious and peculiar person with a strange ability as if they'd be entering some biography movie if they did. I eventually forget everyone else's dreams too. All I can remember are the good dreams and those don't usually come from basic individuals who can only dream about crushes and the massive amount of wealth they wish they obtained.

My shoes press against the sidewalk, the breeze still brushing through my fluff with its airy comb and drying my eyes with malicious intent. There was a lawn encased by the sidewalk bordering the streets that was cut in two by the sidewalk lining in front of the school's entrance doors, freshly cut in half and left to float away in the wind. Reality is quite sad when compared to dreams, isn't it? Dull colors, the monotony of autonomy, and a routine schedule for how you're supposed to operate defined reality. The blue sky isn't even remotely blue anymore. It's just a grey with a bit too much blue paint added. A grey, boring sky painting over and over with an enormous paintbrush that deftly avoids the white, fluffy yet repetitive clouds. As each car roars as they race across the roads, they only make the insanity seek deeper. To clarify, it's not that I'm insane. Life is insanity.

As I made my way to the bordering sidewalk, I saw somebody walking toward me, two people. Bronson and that scaredy-cat guy from before. Perhaps they'd help with making me stop thinking of so many existential topics. "Hey, Thomas!" Bronson jumped in front of me and tugged my right arm in the middle row. "I wanted you to meet the new kid! He said he was interested in you!"

"Interested as in your dream watching abilities," He sighed, shaking his head at Bronson in disapproval.

"Spencer is just here to ask for your help," Bronson grinned, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, which spread a blush on his cheeks.

"Spencer Harris," The scaredy boy finally introduced himself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Spencer," I chirped, trying to be friendly despite my thoughts. Optimism is usually the better route to take if you're able to be optimistic. If not, fake it. Ms. Fauna is one of my only exceptions to this rule. At least I'm usually a happy person, as long as other people don't ruin it.

"It's nice to meet you in an uh, less crazy way," Spencer chuckled. "I also had some questions about the whole... sleep state thing."

"Yes?" I blinked, my curiosity blooming.

"Is there a way to stop it?"

I freeze up at the question. Why come here if you don't want to enter a sleep state? The whole point of this place is to embrace yourself. There was no point in living here if you don't want a weird life. "Well, I guess so," It was difficult to mask the concern in my tone. "Just sleep at the proper times and you'll never see one. ...Please explain why you asked that."

"Curiosity," Spencer murmured, looking toward the ground briefly before bringing his eyes back to me almost immediately.

"With movements like that, I suspect you're lying."

"Okay, smarty-pants," He crossed his arms, pouting. After sighing, he continued, "But seeing you in your sleep state or whatever kinda made me realize something... weird that happened a night ago, sometime after I moved in."

"What's that?" I asked.

"My sister said I was a monster..." Spencer crossed his arms.

"You were in a sleep state?"

"I think so, but I was... walking around and ramming into things, leaving holes everywhere that I had to... kind of attempt to fix. When I woke up, I... I didn't know what to do."

"Did you catch what you looked like?" I queried.

"...No," He murmured. "But I do kinda want... help. Both in sleeping and seeing whatever the heck was happening in my dreams."

"...I could help you tonight," I smiled. I probably wasn't going to decline anyway. As long as I'm not home, I usually have pretty good days and possibly make a little bit of extra money.

"Do you need to be paid or anything?" Spencer asked.

"If you find my services serviceable, you could," I did a little bow, giggling afterward. It's easy to make yourself laugh yet also making it not forced. Just say something I think is funny and ta-da, I'm laughing! Some people could say I've gotten good at it.

"How much money do you normally get from doing this?" Spencer pressed. Why is he so insistent about payment? I get this is a small town and all but I'm not some poor heathen. I'm an infidel without much money. My parents usually take my money for their use. It's not stealing until I'm out of the house, apparently, but I need money to get out of the place anyway.

"Don't worry about it," I sigh, each of my eyes opening to stare at him with all of the discomforts I've been enduring with these queries about currency. "Only pay me if you're satisfied with the outcome. That's it."

"Fair, I guess," Spencer shrugged as he began walking along the sidewalk. "Follow me."

I nod, walking very slightly behind him. If I walk too close, people would probably assume I'm trying to hit on the new guy who very likely is the opposite of gay. Don't need more people than there are already gossiping about me. It's a sickening endeavor.

"Can you recall any of your dreams or what happens on those nights?" I questioned.

Spencer shook his head responsively. "There were just a lot of... holes everywhere, like in the cabinets and the furniture, as if some kind of monster went loose in there and tore everything up. My sister said she could hear this bizarre thumping sound that traveled from upstairs, where my room is, and all the way downstairs and to the living room. I'm not sure what even happened that night, but I hope that whatever this town does to me when I sleep, it isn't something... horrific."

"You should like your sleep state," I responded quietly, listening intently to his issue. Despite how unique his situation appears to be in the swarm of people seeking comfort from scary dreams or people wanting to know the hidden meaning behind a swarm of bizarre dreams that have been repeating for almost the whole week, his dreams are affecting the real world. I'm not even sure that they are or if he's speaking the truth. It could just be a well-constructed excuse to bring me along with him to his house to look into some nonsensical thoughts of his that don't even remotely damage his household, but his words feel genuine. Something about him is different from the others I've spoken to. It's a nice feeling, not having to deal with the same thing over and over again. To be frank, even if this was all an elaborate plan to get me to come over to the new kid's house, at least his reason was unique.

Spencer still hasn't talked back to me while we were walking. Each time I glanced at him against the suburbian background of plain, small houses and clusters of rusty trailer parks, he was always looking down at his feet. His expression always appeared tired while his eyes were sad. It could just be because he's lazy like many people assume of drowsy people who don't want to get up in the morning, but sometimes I don't get up.

I was staring at Spencer's face now. He hasn't even noticed me examining him, thinking about him. This must be incredibly creepy. I might as well stop now.

As my eyes were drawn back to the endless sidewalk before me, Spencer spoke, "How do you know what yours looks like?"

"My sleep state?" I responded snappily.

"Yeah."

I paused to think about my answer. "I tend to doze off sometimes, so one day when I did, and everyone was staring at me, I went into a bathroom to... to see myself in the mirror. Then, I saw myself. I didn't... I didn't think it was odd. It was me. This is all me... I think." I softly laughed. That all seemed like such a lie. I couldn't say what I was feeling. That'd make him think weirdly of me, especially if he hasn't lived here for as long as I have. Who knows if he was also the type to laugh at someone dozing off, transforming, and getting yelled at? I have to be more cautious.

"Have you been able to use all six of your arms all at once? Like, no issues at all?" Spencer asked.

"It took some getting used to after a week or so of sleeping a lot... and an entire Summer," I replied, though it did take a bit longer than that.

"Will... I have more than two arms?"

"...Depends on if that'd match you," I shrugged.

"...Do you remember the dreams you see?"

"If the dream's memorable, I'll remember it for longer."

"Is watching a dream kind of like watching a movie?"

I sigh, "You're asking a ton of questions."

"It's fascinating," Spencer made a faint smile.

"What? About seeing dreams?" I questioned. "It's not that interesting."

"To you," Spencer chuckled. His tone was so questionably nice saying such a mean phrase. What's up with how nice this guy is? Nobody's ever usually this kind to me, even Bronson, who's one of the only people who consistently talk to me without trying to coerce me into seeing their dreams after one day.

"Well," I paused, trying to respond to him. "I guess, but I just... it's hard to explain𑁋"

"That's fine," Spencer swiftly replied. "If you don't wanna explain it, that's cool. I understand. It's just interesting like I said before."

"I can see why," I giggled briefly. "...How far away is your house?"

"It's a mansion𑁋"

"A mansion?"

"Yeah. My parents handed it over to me," Spencer laughed at my reaction, a dash of humble richness in his voice. "It's way too big for my sister and me. It's got like, seven or so rooms, so I could probably have a pretty banger party here if I wanted to."

"That's cool, I guess...?" I resisted the urge to cringe at that.

He snickered, "Yeah, I'm not that much of a party type, but I have gone to a few."

"Why's that?"

"I used to have friends who'd bring me to them," Spencer stated softly. "They're... pretty crazy, usually. I think that's the only time I've ever gotten close to alcohol."

"...Huh..." I murmured. "Did you drink any?" I asked.

"Nope, fortunately." Spencer smiled. "There are way too many stories about people's lives being messed up by drinking it, so I try to steer clear of it."

Thank goodness. "Good," I sighed, looking down. I rejected the urge to stay on the topic of drinking instinctively, quickly bringing the topic back to his parties. "How many parties?"

"Around three," He answered awkwardly. "Most of them were fun. A lot of food."

"Ah..."

"I'm assuming you've never been to one?"

"I've been to a dance in... Freshman year?" I struggled to remember the last time I went to a party. It's been years, and the only things I can recall from that party have all been terrible. Maybe that's just the pessimistic side of my psyche that's been pestering me lately, influencing me. Either that or I've always secretly been like this and I ignored most of my internal woes that my mind decided not to care about.

"Well, do you remember anything from it?" Spencer quietly asked.

"...Not really," I decided to say. "I just know it was... weird... and... not normal."

"Those mean the same thing𑁋"

"I know."

Spencer got another chuckle from me. "I could bring you to one."

"No thank you," I softly stated until I realized something. "Why'd you ask that?"

"No reason," Spencer shrugged. "We're almost here."

"Where is it?" I gasped softly.

"Just over there," He pointed to a large building towering over a mass of trees, only a few houses to the left and right of the mansion.

"...Finally," I sighed.

It took long enough.