Awakened in the Dreamscape

I’m a lucid dreamer. A pretty skilled one, actually. Every night, I go to bed and slip into a world I can control—a skyscraper that’s upside down, clouds I can walk on, or forests made of mirrors. It’s always been a playground, a place where I could bend the laws of reality to my will. But tonight is different.

Tonight, I wake up somewhere else entirely.

The air feels… different. Crisp, but tinged with something strange, something I can’t quite place. I look around and see I’m standing in the middle of a street—a city, but not like any I’ve ever seen. Skyscrapers spiral into the sky, twisting as if someone melted them and then froze them mid-bend. Lights flicker, not with the cold blue of neon but with something warmer, pulsing like veins under the skin.

It’s not just the city, though. It’s the people. They pass by, flickering like mirages, sometimes solid, sometimes ghostly. They move with a purpose, but their eyes are hollow like they’re not really… here.

“Hey,” a voice cuts through the hum of the crowd. Sharp, quick, like the snap of a whip. “You. Yeah, you.”

I turn around and see a woman standing a few feet away, arms crossed. She’s tall, wrapped in a long coat that shimmers between shades of deep purple and midnight blue. Her hair is silver, with strands that seem to float, as if gravity’s not entirely sure it wants to hold onto her. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“You look like a lost puppy,” she says. Her voice is a mix of amusement and pity. “Let me guess: you think you’re lucid dreaming.”

“I… I am, aren’t I?” I stammer. It’s hard to keep my voice steady. The city around me feels so solid, so tangible, in a way my dreams never have before. “Who are you?”

She smirks. “I’m Raelle. And I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t one of your little lucid dreaming exercises. You’re in the Dreamscape. The real deal.”

I blink at her. The Dreamscape? Is that supposed to mean something to me?

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “You’re not the first new Dream Crafter I’ve met, and you won’t be the last, apparently. Lucky me.” She glances up at the twisting skyscrapers and the sky, which looks like an endless canvas of shifting colors. “Look around, rookie. Does this look like any place you’ve dreamed up?”

I want to argue, but she’s right. My dreams aren’t this… cohesive. There’s a structure here, a reality that I can feel in my bones. It’s unsettling.

“Okay, say I believe you,” I say slowly, testing the words. “What’s a Dream Crafter?”

“A Dream Crafter,” she says, pacing around me in a slow circle, “is someone who can not only control their dreams but actually interact with the dreams of others, mould them, and craft them. We don’t just dream; we build.”

She stops in front of me and looks me dead in the eye. “You have a rare gift, kid. But it’s dangerous. You’re going to attract attention from the Guild, the Nightwalkers… and worse.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling very small. “And who are you? A Dream Crafter too?”

She smirks. “One of the best.”

Raelle pulls me along, walking briskly through the dream-city, her steps confident, and assured. I stumble along beside her, glancing at the people who flicker in and out of focus. They feel less like dreamers and more like… shadows.

“Why do they look like that?” I ask, unable to keep the curiosity out of my voice. “Like they’re only half here.”

“Because they are,” she replies, glancing over her shoulder. “They’re fragments, bits of people who dip into the Dreamscape without realizing it. Most people only touch this place briefly, in flashes, and they never remember.”

We stop in front of a small shop, its sign written in letters that shift and change as I try to read them. She pushes open the door, and I follow her inside.

The shop is dimly lit, and cluttered with odd trinkets and artifacts. Dreamcatchers hang from the ceiling, glowing faintly, and the shelves are lined with objects that seem to hum with energy—an old compass, a pair of spectacles, a feather that floats in place. Raelle nods to a worn leather armchair, and I sit down, feeling the weight of everything pressing in on me.

“So, Elliot,” she says, leaning against a counter. “You’re what we call ‘awakened.’ That means you’ve got the ability to tap into this place naturally. Most people never make it here on their own.”

“How did I… get here, then?”

“Who knows?” She shrugs like it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. “Could be a fluke, could be fate. All I know is that you’re here now, and you need to learn the rules fast if you don’t want to get swallowed alive.”

I frown. “Swallowed alive?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You really think everyone here plays nice? Dream Crafters have their own agendas. The Guild will want to recruit you, train you to follow their rules. The Nightwalkers will want to twist your powers to suit their needs. And then there are others… people who don’t have names, things that lurk in the Dreamscape and wait for people like you.”

My stomach twists. “And you? What do you want?”

Raelle chuckles, crossing her arms. “I want to see if you’ve got the guts to make it out here. You’re a rookie, Elliot. Fresh meat. But maybe, just maybe, you’ve got potential.”

The way she says it, with a glint of something dangerous in her eyes, sends a shiver down my spine. But a part of me—maybe the part that’s always loved the thrill of lucid dreaming—feels a spark of excitement.

“So, what’s my first lesson?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

She grins. “Your first lesson is simple: survive. Follow me.”

She leads me out of the shop and into an alleyway. The city feels darker now as if shadows are creeping closer, pressing in. Raelle stops and points to a figure standing at the end of the alley—a tall, thin man with eyes that seem to burn with a sickly yellow light. He grins, revealing rows of sharp teeth.

“That,” Raelle says, her voice calm, “is a Nightwalker. They feed on fear, on nightmares. Normally, they can’t touch a skilled Dream Crafter, but you? You’re fresh meat.”

The Nightwalker steps closer, his footsteps echoing ominously.

“What do I do?” I whisper, feeling panic claw at my throat.

Raelle smirks. “Use your imagination. You’re in a dream, remember?”

The Nightwalker lunges, and I don’t have time to think. I throw my hands up instinctively, and suddenly, a wall of fire erupts in front of me, searing hot, lighting up the alleyway. The Nightwalker hisses, retreating into the shadows.

Raelle lets out a low whistle. “Not bad, rookie. You’ve got some fight in you.”

I stare at my hands, the adrenaline thrumming through my veins. “I… I didn’t even know I could do that.”

She grins. “Welcome to Dream Crafting. Now, let’s see if you can do that twice.”