Chapter 4: The Source

Behind the door was a memory.

Alex found themselves in a child's bedroom, small and cluttered with toys. Sunlight streamed through curtains decorated with cartoon animals. It should have been peaceful, but the air thrummed with terror.

In the corner sat a child, maybe seven years old, hiding behind a dresser. The child's fear was so pure, so overwhelming, that it had become a beacon for every other nightmare in the Collective. This was the anchor point.

Alex approached slowly, their dream architect training kicking in. They had seen this before—core traumas that became so deeply buried they turned into psychic wounds, never healing, always bleeding fear into the surrounding consciousness.

"Hey," Alex said softly, kneeling beside the child. "It's okay. You're safe."

The child looked up with eyes that held too much knowledge for their age. "They're coming back," the child whispered. "They always come back."

Alex could feel the nightmare web trembling, feeding off this primal terror. They needed to understand the source to fix it. "Who's coming back?"

The child pointed to the bedroom door, which was slowly opening. Through the gap, Alex could see shapes moving in the darkness beyond—the suggestion of figures, the promise of harm.

This was someone's deepest trauma, the thing they had buried so far down in their psyche that it had become a black hole of fear, drawing in every other nightmare in the Collective.

Alex made a decision that went against every protocol they had been taught. Instead of trying to contain or redirect the nightmare, they sat down beside the child.

"Tell me about them," Alex said.