The best dream of my life

Chapter 1 The Best Dream of My Life

“This is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed in all my existence!” exclaimed Nefer, the cat god, as he soared in wide circles around the palace. His green eyes shimmered with excitement, his ears quivering with every turn. “A dream come true!”

Dozens of portals opened one after another, spitting out mountains of desserts that rained down from above with a thunderous crash. The air smelled of burnt caramel, whipped cream, and freshly baked sponge cake, but the chaos was absolute: cakes the size of cars crushed marble columns, fruit tarts exploded against the walls like projectiles, and the floor groaned beneath a sticky layer of multicolored frosting. The place looked less like the home of the gods and more like the battlefield of a pastry war.

Then, a particularly large portal launched a multi-tiered cake like a cannonball. Nefer, completely absorbed in devouring an ice cream of an almost lethal sweetness — buried under so many sprinkles they could have sweetened an ocean — never saw it coming.

The impact was monumental.

Nefer woke up with a jolt, pinned flat.

The dream had vanished, but the problem remained: someone of flesh and blood had him immobilized on the sofa. The sweet smell of imaginary cream gave way to the soft perfume of a stranger. His little paws stuck out from the sides of the unconscious body pressing down on him with devastating efficiency.

“Carlos!” he wailed with what little voice he had left. “I need help! Something is crushing me!”

Measured, deliberate footsteps echoed down the marble hallway. Carlos appeared in the doorway, his posture straight and his expression serene — the look of someone who has seen too much to be surprised — though his eyebrows rose by barely a millimeter, which in his case amounted to a full scandal.

“How may I be of service, my lord Nefer?” he asked, with a composure that bordered on theatrical.

“Get me out of here!” replied Nefer, flailing his paws in the air.

Carlos studied the scene for a moment. He sighed, discreetly.

“My duty as a butler is to serve the gods without question,” he said at last. “However, considering your recent… exploits, part of me is tempted to leave you to your fate.” A pause, laden with dignity. “But it would be an unforgivable discourtesy to abandon this young lady without assistance. So, on this occasion, I shall make an exception.”

The young woman began to stir. A slow, disoriented blink. Then another. The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Nefer’s pair of sharp green eyes, mere centimeters from her face.

“Oh, you’re finally awake,” said the cat god, with a mixture of relief and reproach.

She took a second to process what was in front of her. Then, with an energy no one seriously injured should possess, she sat up in one motion and swept Nefer into her arms with the precision of someone who had spent years practicing exactly that move.

“You are the most adorable thing I have ever seen in my life!” she exclaimed, pressing him to her chest. “Did I die? Am I in kitty paradise?”

Nefer, eyes bulging and cheeks squished against the girl’s arms, produced sounds that oscillated between horror and wounded dignity.

“I’m glad to see you awake, Miss.” A cheerful voice interrupted the moment. “Hello! I’m Brunilda. You had all of us on the edge of our seats.”

The newcomer was a girl who looked quite young, wearing a servant’s apron and a small aurora borealis floating above her head as if it were the most natural accessory in the world.

The young woman gathered herself — without fully letting go of Nefer — and introduced herself with a slightly nervous smile.

“Hi. My name is Teresa.”

“Where am I?” she then asked, glancing around. “Who are you all? Am I… dead?”

“Don’t worry, Miss Teresa,” Brunilda replied warmly. “You’re not dead. This place is… something else entirely.”

“The one about to die is me,” Nefer murmured in a thin voice, seizing a moment of distraction to slip out of Teresa’s arms with the agility native to his feline nature.

“You can talk!” exclaimed Teresa, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Of course I can talk,” replied Nefer, resettling himself with an air of grandeur. “I’m a god. It would be a waste if I couldn’t.”

“With your permission,” Carlos announced from the doorway, with a discreet knock on the frame.

“Come in, Mr. Carlos,” said Brunilda. “It’s time to attend to our guest properly.”

Teresa watched them all with the expression of someone trying to determine whether they were still asleep.

“If you’d be so kind as to follow me, Miss,” said Carlos, gesturing the way forward with an elegant sweep of his arm. “The banquet awaits.”

Teresa followed him in silence through the palace hallways, each step drawing a new wave of wonder. The floor was made of precious stones fitted together perfectly, capturing light in impossible ways; the walls shifted their décor as she passed, as if the palace itself wished to please her, revealing gardens, constellations, scenes from worlds that had no name in any human language.

Upon reaching the dining room, Teresa found another unusual figure: a young woman of serene appearance who was arranging the silverware with absolute precision. From beneath her servant’s skirt, with complete naturalness, emerged a scaly, reddish tail that curled slightly whenever she concentrated.

“Please, take a seat, Miss,” said the young woman, offering a chair with a small bow. “I am Excali.”

The table was a work of art in itself: dark wood carved with constellations that seemed to shift if you looked long enough, and on it, a spread of dishes whose aroma filled the air with spices both familiar and indecipherable at the same time.

“The chef has prepared a selection of dishes from planet Earth for your comfort,” Excali announced. “Please help yourself.”

Teresa was about to reply when the sound of frantic chewing caught her attention. At the far end of the table, Nefer was eating with a devotion that defied physics: noodles hung from his whiskers, there was a smear of sauce on his forehead, and his small body seemed to have expanded several centimeters by sheer force of appetite.

“Lord Nefer,” said Carlos in a tone that was, in essence, a warning wrapped in silk, “that is not the behavior expected of a god. Please conduct yourself accordingly.”

Nefer slowed his chewing by the smallest measurable degree. Which was, evidently, the entirety of the concession he was prepared to make.

“By the way,” Teresa chimed in, still trying to piece together the full picture, “how did I end up here? And why do you all look so… particular?”

Carlos let out something that, in any other man, would have been a resigned sigh.

“Miss, this is the world of the gods. And the one responsible for your presence here is this ill-mannered deity eating as though the universe will end in ten minutes.”

Teresa went still for a moment. Her eyes grew slightly moist.

“Will I be stuck here forever?” she asked. “Not that I mind entirely, with such an adorable little cat nearby… but I would rather go home.”

“Don’t worry,” said Excali in a calm voice. “We will return you to your world. It’s just that transporting mortal beings between dimensions requires following certain protocols.” A pause. “Nothing that can’t be sorted out with a little time.”

Teresa nodded slowly, processing. Then she looked at the plate in front of her, breathed in the rising aroma, and decided that for now, the most sensible thing to do was eat.

“The food was wonderful,” she said when she finished, her cheeks faintly flushed. “Thank you very much for the hospitality.”

“It has been our pleasure, Miss,” replied Excali.

Almost immediately, Brunilda appeared in the doorway, brimming with the restrained energy of someone who has been waiting their turn for a while.

“Follow me, Miss Teresa, I’ll give you a tour of the palace. It’s sure to keep you entertained.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Miss Brunilda.”

All eyes turned to Carlos, who held his gaze with the placidity of a statue.

“The one who will attend to our guest from here on is Lord Nefer.” A brief, measured pause. “Even gods must take responsibility for their actions.”

A pair of stifled laughs escaped from Brunilda and Excali. Nefer set down his fork.

“Fine,” he said, with a resignation that would have been more convincing had it not been immediately replaced by arrogance. “Very well. Human, prepare yourself for the greatest tour anyone of your species has ever received.”

“Lord Nefer,” Carlos added before the cat god could move, “please don’t forget to clean up the mess your last dream made on the premises.”

Nefer stopped.

“How can a dream about desserts cause a disaster?”

“When your dreams manifest as meteor showers, my lord, the answer becomes rather self-evident.”

Nefer flew out through the nearest window. He returned thirty seconds later with the expression of someone who has just confirmed something they had hoped not to have to confirm.

“I think I’ve made a mess again,” he admitted.

“For now, please attend to our guest,” said Carlos. “The disaster can wait a little longer. It has already been waiting for several hours.”

When Nefer and Teresa left the dining room, Brunilda approached Carlos with a slight furrow in her brow.

“Sir, do you think those two will be alright on their own?”

“A god has to learn to be responsible at some point,” Carlos replied.

Brunilda nodded, though not entirely convinced. Excali allowed herself a small smile.

“You know, Lord Nefer can be responsible when he wants to be,” she said. “Though one never quite knows when he’s going to want to.”

* * *

The palace hallways had an almost unreal quality to them: the light did not seem to come from any fixed point, but from the walls themselves, which gave off a soft, shifting glow, as if they were breathing. The air smelled of something Teresa couldn’t quite name — fresh, ancient, and faintly electric, like the moment before a storm that never arrives — and the sound of her own footsteps on the gemstone floor had a different resonance in each stretch, as if each section of the palace had its own language.

Nefer floated beside her with his paws crossed, adopting the posture of a tour guide that no one had asked for, but which he carried with absolute naturalness.

“This is my room,” he announced, gesturing toward an imposing door with a proprietary air. “There is no better place in the entire palace. Though I’ll only show you the entrance — a god’s chambers are strictly confidential.”

On the door was an enormous carved relief depicting Nefer reclining on a throne, wearing a drowsy expression with a toothpick dangling from his mouth. The carving was extraordinarily detailed. Teresa gazed at it with a fondness that would have devastated the cat god’s ego had he seen it.

“This way,” Nefer ordered, already moving down the hallway. “This entire section belongs to me. Not just the room, but the whole wing. It’s the bare minimum befitting someone of my standing.”

“Does that mean there are more adorable little cat gods besides you?” asked Teresa, her eyes lighting up.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” replied Nefer firmly. “There may be more gods around here, but none of them come remotely close to me.”

“If there are more gods, why didn’t I see them at the banquet?”

“Everyone is busy with their own affairs,” Nefer explained with a vague wave of his paw. “We don’t often share the dining room. Gods are busy people.”

Teresa followed, wondering what exactly filled the schedule of a cat god who dreamed in pastry meteor showers.

The meeting room was large, well lit, and smelled of freshly brewed coffee. In one corner, three gaming consoles were stacked on top of each other.

“Is this where the fate of the universe is decided?” asked Teresa, hopeful.

“Well… it’s mostly a break room,” Nefer admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Though meetings do happen here. Occasionally.”

The observation deck was something else entirely. A circular room with glass walls that opened onto the cosmos like a bubble suspended in the void: galaxies turning with the unhurried pace of those who have all eternity, nebulae burning in colors without names, and at the center, a telescope of bronze and black crystal pointed at all of it with a quiet precision.

“This is Goddess Senko’s favorite spot,” said Nefer, glancing from side to side with studied nonchalance. “Good thing she isn’t here. I’m not in the mood to run into that show-off.”

“You’re also a show-off, Lord Nefer,” Teresa observed with a smile.

“Yes, but I do it with style.”

Teresa leaned toward the telescope. The universe expanded before her eyes with overwhelming clarity: solar systems spinning like tops, moons reflecting the light of suns that had no name yet…

“Lord Nefer,” she said slowly, “there’s an alien spacecraft with police lights pulling over another alien spacecraft.”

Nefer yawned.

“Yes, that’s been happening a lot lately. Intergalactic youth is completely out of control these days.”

* * *

The garden hit them with every sense at once.

The heat was thick and humid, heavy with perfumes that matched no known flower: something sweet with a bitter edge, something that smelled like rain on a different planet, something that simply smelled like danger in a way the instincts recognized before the brain finished processing it. The ground was a mix of blue moss and reddish earth from which plants of improbable shapes grew: leaves that moved without wind, flowers that tracked the footsteps of visitors, roots that surfaced like curious fingers.

“You’d better watch where you step and stay close to me,” said Nefer in a tone that, for the first time all day, sounded genuinely serious. “We don’t want you getting devoured by a carnivorous plant from some forgotten corner of the galaxy.”

Teresa moved with the caution of someone walking through a museum where the exhibits might bite her. ‘I just hope I don’t get poisoned by some intergalactic venom,’ she thought.

“Lord Nefer! And the famous guest!” A woman in gardening clothes, pruning shears in hand, emerged from the bushes with a smile that didn’t quite cover something more intense underneath. “I’m Dafne. A pleasure.”

“Teresa,” she replied. “Likewise.”

“Mr. Carlos let us know you’d be coming to fix the meteor disaster, Lord Nefer,” added Dafne, looking at the cat god with an expression that was, simultaneously, perfectly pleasant and completely terrifying.

Nefer got to work without another word.

“In the meantime,” said Dafne, turning to Teresa, “shall I show you some of our most notable specimens?”

Teresa glanced at Nefer’s reaction and decided the wisest course was not to cross this woman.

“This flower,” Dafne began, pointing to a plant with translucent petals that pulsed softly, as if breathing, “is of extraordinary beauty. But if you inhale its fragrance for more than twenty seconds, you enter a trance and experience your deepest fears in completely vivid detail. It happened to Lord Nefer once. He caused quite a lot of trouble.”

Teresa stepped discreetly away from the flower.

“This one,” Dafne continued, in the same measured tone of a museum guide, “has an eye in the center. If you stare into it long enough, it can see your soul. It uses that to devise its hunting strategies.”

The plant in question blinked.

Teresa looked away.

“And finally —” Dafne led them toward the back of the garden, where the vegetation grew darker and the air grew still — “we have the Apocalypse Tree.” She said it in the same tone one might use to introduce a begonia. “A truly extraordinary specimen. At one point it planned the systematic conquest and destruction of world after world, using its roots to consume souls and scatter its seeds across the universe. It is estimated to have been responsible for the extinction of entire galaxies.”

The tree was enormous, twisted, with black bark that seemed to absorb light. Surrounded by a barely visible energy field, it pulsed with something Teresa couldn’t have named, but that her instincts recognized without difficulty as sheer malice.

“Lady Yari keeps it sealed,” Dafne clarified. “There’s no risk of it escaping.”

Teresa looked at it. The tree seemed to look back.

“Are you completely sure?” she asked. “Because, as far as I know, I’m here by accident.”

Dafne hesitated for just a moment.

“Well… minor incidents do occur from time to time. But nothing serious.”

Before Teresa could respond, a dozen meteorites rose silently from the craters scattered across the garden, hovered for a moment in the air with a strange elegance, and shot off into space with a soft whistle.

“Job done,” announced Nefer, crossing his paws with satisfaction. “Now you have a clearer idea of what I’m capable of, young human.”

“Lord Nefer is very powerful,” Teresa conceded.

“And very adorable,” added Dafne with a smile.

“If we asked Mr. Carlos,” the gardener went on, “he would probably say he’s a spoiled little cat. Using his refined words, of course.”

Teresa laughed. Nefer watched them both with the expression of someone who has spent a lifetime being underestimated and has learned to live with it, though without quite making peace with it.

“That’s enough for today,” he said. “We have one last stop.”

* * *

The elevator descended in silence.

No music, no floor indicators, no sign of where they were headed: only the soft hum of the cabin and a darkness that grew deeper as they went down. Teresa felt the pressure shift slightly in her ears, as if the world above was very far away now.

The doors opened.

Teresa couldn’t find the words. She looked for them and found none.

Before her stretched an aquarium the size of a cathedral, its glass walls reaching from the floor to a vaulted ceiling that disappeared into the dark above. Inside, the water glowed with a light of its own — blue and green and something with no name at all — and in that light swam creatures that no ocean on Earth had ever dreamed of: translucent beings through which you could see their own thoughts moving like clouds inside their bodies, fish with too many eyes arranged with an unsettling symmetry, entities that were not quite fish but were not quite anything else either.

“There are things inside here that would make a megalodon look like a goldfish,” Nefer remarked, in an almost distracted tone.

“It’s…” Teresa tried to finish the sentence. She couldn’t.

“Look at that thing at the bottom,” said Nefer, pointing toward the depths. “The one that looks like a weeping spirit crossed with a salamander.”

Teresa followed the direction. It took her a moment to focus. When she did, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature.

“Oh,” she said, very calmly. “What is that supposed to be?”

“Something that shouldn’t be in an aquarium,” Nefer replied. “And which, in there, has spent weeks planning how to gouge out our eyes. I have no idea who thought keeping it here was a good idea.”

“But the rest are quite beautiful,” said Teresa, trying to find the bright side while instinctively pressing closer to the glass farthest from the creature.

“For now.”

They moved along the walkway that ran beside the aquarium, the glowing water on one side and the darkness of the corridor on the other. Teresa’s footsteps sounded different down here — duller, as if the sound were being absorbed by something.

That was when they heard it.

A song.

It came from somewhere ahead, soft at first, almost indistinguishable from the echo of water against glass. But the farther they walked, the clearer it became: a voice that was not exactly beautiful in the conventional sense, but irresistible in a way Teresa could not explain. It was the kind of sound that made you want to follow it without asking where it led.

“What is that?” Teresa asked.

Nefer didn’t answer right away. His expression, normally somewhere between arrogance and boredom, had shifted to something harder to read.

“That,” he said at last, in a tone Teresa had not yet heard from him, “is something it would be better not to find today.”

But the song kept coming. And the corridor kept going. And Teresa was already taking the next step before she could stop herself.