This isn’t the same place as last time, just similar.” He replies honestly, “So, why are you here exactly? You only enter here if you’re in a very deep sleep.”
“I got shot.”
“You what?”
“Before I elaborate, can I ask you something?” I turn my body so I am facing him. I am lying on my side, my head resting on my palm.
He turns and mimics my movements, “Sure.”
“Are you real? Or are you a figment of my imagination?”
He reaches out and grabs a tendril of my hair that is blowing in the wind, before looking me in the eyes and saying, “I’m real, Ryanne. Not a figment of your imagination.’
For some reason, that makes me happy. I go on to explain everything from the beginning. I don’t leave out any details. I tell him about almost failing English, Adam, almost getting hit by the car, meeting David, Colton, and Claire, finding out I was a mage, my attempted kidnapping, learning about Dravin, realizing that my dreams weren’t actually dreams, training, and lastly the most recent vision.
“Is that all?” he jokes.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Maybe,” he replies hesitantly.
“How come I can only see you when I’m dreaming or whatever? Do you live in the ‘real world’ too?”
He looks up at the sky. I turn back towards him and see him exhale a deep breath. “I do live in the real world. I’m a mage like you. I’m what most call a dream-walker. I can go into mage’s dreams. I’m supposed to help them battle their inner demons, help them solve problems, resolve conflicts, etc. But you,” he turns and points towards me, “you’re different. When we first met, you weren’t dreaming. I can enter into the dream world, but no one else is supposed to be able to, so I don’t know how you got here.”
Nodding, I think about everything he just told me. We are in a different world right now: dream world. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. While I’m thinking, my body starts to tingle.
“I have to go back soon. I feel its pull,” I say sadly. I like talking to Liam. Like David, he’s easygoing and I am comfortable talking to him. However, unlike David, he doesn’t show many emotions—his expressions are usually stoic and unreadable.
“I know. You’re starting to wake up.”
“Will I see you again?” I ask.
“Hopefully,” he cracks a smile, “Just please don’t get shot again.”
Chapter Fourteen
I roll over, slowly open my eyes, and look around my room. It is still dark outside. The clock on the nightstand reads 5:30 a.m. It’s still early, but I figure I have gotten enough sleep. Getting out of bed proves to be a difficult task. My body is sore from sleeping for so long, but my stomach is no longer throbbing and I feel more energized than before. I walk over to the bathroom to take a shower and gasp when I see my reflection. My hair, still partially braided, is sticking out in every direction. I reach back and pull the hair tie out, gently releasing the hair from the braid. Braiding curly hair never works out well. My clothes are a wrinkled mess with blood stains still on them.
I turn the water on and let it warm up. I undress, throw the clothes into a pile in the corner, and look at my stomach in the mirror. It’s amazing. Besides my old scar, there’s nothing showing that I was shot yesterday. I step into the shower and let the water cascade down me, washing away all the pain from the last couple of days. I feel like a new person. I stay in for so long that the hot water starts to cool. I turn the handle, and wait until the last drop falls from the shower head before getting out. I wrap a towel around me and walk back to the room, to pick out an outfit from the closet.
I hear a knock on the door. Turning away from the closet, I walk to the door and open it, using it as a shield to hide my towel covered body.
David stops pacing when he hears the loud squeak of the door opening. Seeing me, he rushes into the room and pulls me to him for a tight hug.
“You’ve had us all worried. Colton and I have checked on you periodically for the last 24 hours,” his chest rumbles as he speaks. I feel him tense under me when he realizes what I’m wearing. He