Dreaming

Penelope’s world was perfection. It always had been. The streets were spotless, made of  smooth white stone that sounded gentle as you walk. Soaring buildings reflected the soft light of an artificial sun, with no shadows. No one raised their voices. No one disagreed. It was working in perfect harmony, like a well executed office job. However, to Penelope, it felt all wrong.

 She sat cross-legged on her bed, looking through her translucent window into the city: flawless symmetry, pale blue skies, and the silence, except for the occasional hum of drones flying by on errands too complex for her to comprehend. She sighed and looked away. She did not recall the last time she felt truly alive here. But, she’s able to forget about all of that when she dreams. The first time it happened, she was a baby, she could barely speak in full sentences. She had woken up in a panic, telling her parents about “big things,” with big scary eyes and non-human features. They had dismissed it as a kid’s imagination. But Penelope recalled it: the first visit to the other world. It was so vivid, it seemed she could taste it. There, the air was heavy with scents she couldn’t name, sweet, wild, free. The world wasn’t her own. It was wild and thick and bursting with colors that threatened to overwhelm her eyes. And then there were them.

These creatures had initially frightened her. So massive, with bodies that she could only ever draw. One had a great single eye centered in its face, and its skin was mottled and rough; the next was a huge, quadruped beast, its legs thick and covered with fur, and a body that rippled with muscle; the last was small, quick, its body long and thin like a snake, but it had delicate wings that fluttered like a moth’s. Their eyes shone softly, like lanterns in the dark. They scare her, as she scared them. They mumbed to each other in some language she couldn’t speak. She remembered crying, and even screaming, yet they didn’t hurt her, They looked at her with big, protective eyes, as if solving a puzzle. Over time, the fear faded. It came to be that the more Penelope returned to the world in her dreams, the more she discovered the creatures were just as lost as she was. They crept up to her, bringing strange fruits that faintly glimmered in the dark. She chuckled when they tripped over their feet or rolled down hills in fits of awkward play. The fear gradually subsided into friendship.

They had names, but these were strange, garbled sounds she couldn't repeat. So she gave them new names. They had become “Eryx,” the cyclops, with an eye that gleamed with intelligence; “Froth,” the huge beast with fur that glimmered like water in the moonlight, and lastly “Tinx,” the smallest, with delicate wings and a body that moved like a whisper. They went on adventures, and in those never-ending journeys, they had swum in caverns that had never been explored, on rivers, and climbed trees that brushed against the stars. But every morning when she woke, that vibrant world evaporated in the perfect chill of her city. She tossed and turned in her bed, running her hand across the soft material of her blanket. She hated the sense of sterility everything seemed to exude; it was not alive. Her fantasy world became more enticing the more she dreamed about it, making the reality harder to stand. She would see people passing on the streets, their faces so calm yet so blank and wonder how little it would take for them to be happy. Her parents didn’t get it. “You have everything you could ever need,” her mother had once told her, smiling gently. "What more could you want?" Penelope had wanted to scream. But she didn't. She never did. Instead she retreated into her dreams.

That night, in bed, Penelope closed her eyes and waited for the usual tugging. It didn’t happen every night, but when it did, it felt like bathing in warm water — easy, no work at all. Gone was the distant roar of the city, replaced with the occasional rustling of leaves combined with the hushed chirps of creatures she didn’t know the name of.

She was back.

The world glowed and throbbed with colors as always, trees shimmering and skies swirled with oranges and violets. She sprinted through the woods, her feet sinking into soft moss that dimly glimmered under her feet. "Eryx? Froth? Tinx?" she shouted.

A low whistle in response, and a moment later, the three creatures came out from the trees. Eryx ducked low under a branch, his huge form shifting easily as his single eye fell on hers. Froth plodded ahead, his paws large enough to create a quaking. Thra flitted close to them, its wings thrumming in the gentle breeze. “Welcome back, old friend. It took you long enough,” Eryx said, with no hesitation.

Penelope laughed. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Froth emitted a mock growl, his tail wagging behind him. “We figured you might have forgotten about us.”

“Never,” she said, her smile slipping just a bit. “You’re all I’ve got.” 

They roam off and hours — or what seemed like hours — passed as they roamed. Eryx took them to a concealed grove where the trees softly sang, their branches swaying to the beat of the wind. Froth found a pool of water that reflected not their faces but visions of places, far, far away that Penelope had never seen: vast stretches of desert, frozen mountains and oceans swarming with strange creatures. Thra zipped overhead, revealing a complex web of glowing vines concealed under the canopy. They laughed and ran, they jumped and played, all under the watchful eyes of their three companions. The air was rich and warm, the colors deep and intoxicating, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Penelope was reluctant to leave.

But as the night stretched on, she felt that old tug — slow, inevitable. The world’s warmth started to drain away, the colors fading, the sounds of the creatures’ laughter fading. The trees that sang were muted. Penelope's heart sank.

 “No… please,” she whispered, trying to stay in the disappearing space.

Tinx zipped to her side, her minute wings flapping in haste. "It's time.”

“Not yet, she said, her voice breaking. "I won't go back."

It was a pull not to be resisted, and color, sound and life slipped beyond her grasp until, in a flick of a second, she was again in her bed looking out at the cold, perfect city. She sat up slowly, feeling the loss in her chest. For a moment she almost thought she could still hear the trees sing, see the glowing moss beneath her feet. She shut her eyes, searching for the warmth. But it was gone