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Another sleepless night of staring at the ceiling and having distracting, intrusive thoughts. At least they weren't sleepy. At least their pillow wasn't wet this time.
Morty reached out for the phone, lying beside the bed, and checked the time, squinting to keep from going blind. It was only after three.
They sighed quietly and put the device away. Clumsily, they sat down on the bed and changed into the clothes that were still lying scattered on the floor a moment ago. Morty didn't much care if they were from a few days ago or yesterday. The most important thing was that they were clean and wearable.
Morty quietly left their bedroom and went downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to wake up the rest of the household. They pulled a carton of colored cereal from the lower cabinet and milk from the fridge. After a moment's consideration, they also pulled out a can of carbonated beverage. Although it belonged to Summer, it had already stood in the refrigerator for several days, so there was a high probability that their sister would not notice its absence. They opened the drink and enjoyed the sweet, fruity taste of the bubbles, which had as much to do with fruit as they did with good grades after their first years of elementary school. However, the sugar shot made them feel slightly better, and they reached for a bowl to prepare their breakfast. They weren't particularly hungry, but since their body was screwing with them and their sleeping needs, they didn't care. Refilling their drink, Morty hoped they wouldn't get diabetes before they finished their education if that happened.
Morty thought nothing of it as they poured the cereals into a bowl while drowning them in milk. They quickly cleaned up the evidence of their crime and went to eat in the living room with barely audible sound from the TV. For several minutes, they switched channels until the cereal became completely mush. Finally, they found a nature documentary; this time they broadcast an episode about sea creatures. The usual soothing voice of the voiceover helped them take a nap after their early meal. They were eating, looking at the hidden lives of warm-water crustaceans and other beings that looked more like creatures from outer space than anything that could live on Earth.
After countless minutes, Morty emptied the bowl and put it back on the table without taking their eyes off the section on crawfish and their diet. They laid their head comfortably on the pillow, thinking they would get a little more sleepy. They still didn't feel fatigue but were once again submerged in dense, familiar emotions, which were hard for them to describe and name. They poured into their throat, lungs, and brain.
Abandonment, helplessness, alienation, shame.
Although part of their consciousness was focused on the nature document, their mind began to run faster and faster. Morty felt the gathering tears that had been lost earlier that night and had only now found their eyes. They pulled their nose a few times and snuggled into a small pillow. They just wanted to fall asleep and go to dreamland, hoping to find pleasant words.
Morty sometimes had those really nice dreams, but they still liked the childish ones, reminiscent of fairy-tale settings from cartoons, nature documentaries, and their colorful collections of fairy tales and richly illustrated atlases of geography and space.
Sometimes one particular one appeared among them. Their favorite.
Because in it, they felt safe.
He was in a clearing in the middle of the forest. The clearing was illuminated by blue fireflies, and creatures made of colorful inflatables shaped like rabbits were crouching on the grass. They were about the size of Morty, whom they eagerly cuddled up to, and after a while, they continued to crouch around the clearing before jumping on them again.
After a while, someone picked Morty up and hugged them to their chest. A large hand caressed their small head and combed through their curls. Inside, they felt a growing warmth with each gentle movement. Morty was held as if they were the most delicate being in the universe, and something was about to snatch them from this fairy-tale setting. Morty felt a gentle kiss on their forehead, but it was impossible for them to see who their guardian was. The dream, which was soothing and enveloped Morty like a soft blanket on a cold night, began to blur as soon as they began to lift their baby's head.
The dream repeated itself from time to time, so Morty thought it was an early childhood memory or a mix of them. Maybe when they were a year or two old. Perhaps from a time when their parents were more affectionate toward them. Don't count the clearing and the blowing rabbits they probably saw in some fairy tale.
Morty didn't like it when other people touched them when they didn't want it. Even the slightest nudge always made them nervous, and they felt uncomfortable about it. Their parents, Snuffles and Summer were the only exceptions, but over the years of their short life, physical contact became less and less frequent. Single hugs, measuring their hair or kicks from Summer. Not that Morty made it easy on the family, as they often didn't know themself when they needed it or how to communicate it. Of the rest of the people, they used to count as close ones; they were old friends who had disappeared or were fake. Their greatest bond was with their dog, who enjoyed being petted most of the time, licked on the face, and slept with them or Summer.
Now they were hugging a small pillow and trying not to think, so they thought more. They wanted to dream of the blue fireflies and the gentle hug. When Morty's tears ran out, they wiped themself with the other pillow and went back to watching another program. They didn't know when the commercials ended, and the same voiceover talked about penguins. They plunged into listening to her voice about their habits as if nothing had happened. They forgot about the desire to sleep. Morty only paid attention to the voiceover's calm voice and the cute penguins stomping around.
Outside the window, a new day came, and the household was waking up. The first to descend was their mother, who greeted Morty with some words about being up early and picked up the cereal bowl. Her words from the kitchen about breakfast and her plans for today did not reach Morty. The program ended, so Morty switched to morning cartoons. They could all say what they wanted and complain, but Morty could never abandon them like the teddy bears in their room, even if they were already 12 years old. After the catchy lead ended, Summer came down the stairs, staring at her new phone. Without a word, she passes Morty. She shouts something about the drink she wanted to have just today. Snuffles was apparently still asleep in her bed. Just before the tip, their dad showed up and only greeted Morty with a few phrases and terms they thought were youthful and cool. Morty just wore a smile. At least they were trying. The noises from the kitchen grew louder and louder. They were arguing about something again, or talking about the weather, although they could argue about that too. Morty thought only of their favorite characters on the screen and the simple intrigue, which made them really smile. They noticed a previously unnoticed clue to the resolution of the episode's plot, which was not mentioned at the end of the episode. They had seen it a few times before and knew the series' pattern by heart. The boring commercials ended, and the next cartoon began. Snuffles came running like a bullet from above, jumped on the couch, licked Morty as if he hadn't seen them in ages, jumped down as suddenly as they had appeared, and ran into the kitchen. Jerry came in, complaining that they were the ones who had to let the dog outside so they wouldn't pee on the carpet. They threw in some rusks, which Morty didn't understand, but snorted under their breath at the same time from a situational joke, which their father took positively. They left, and Morty was alone again. Morty stared at the screen, not paying attention to what was going on around them. Another cartoon, another favorites characters, another memorable quotes, another funny jokes and another schemes. And repeat. Don't think about everything else. Repeat. Think about everything. Repeat. Until-
The sound of the impact rang out. Morty might have thought they imagined it. Nothing shook, and they didn't feel the shock wave. Evidence that their daily routine had been shaken was the stirring of their parents and the whimpering of Snuffles, who, at one point, had to be let into the living room. He hid behind the headrest of the couch. Morty slowly approached him, still holding the pillow to their chest as if it were their shield. They knelt down beside him and began to say the words they wanted to hear. That nothing was wrong and they would be fine. This was apparently enough for the dog because he stopped shaking contritely and looked at Morty with frozen eyes. He licked their hand and lay down on the carpet, already completely calm. Morty leaned their head out from behind the couch to look through the open front door, at which their dad stood, talking faster than they could catch his breath.
Outside, dust was spreading in the air. The lawn was shabby, and something must have burrowed into the ground. And that something was probably on fire.
Morty slowly took steps toward the entrance. They were wearing socks, but were afraid to make the slightest sound. They didn't know if they could even ask what had happened, what had made the noise, and where Mom and Summer were. As if on cue, Summer shouted from upstairs for everyone to quiet down and slammed the door, making more noise than was made before. And Mom... Dragged someone by the arm into the house as if nothing ever happened.
It seemed she was crying. No, she was laughing, talking excitedly, and shouting at her husband. She didn't care that the elderly man was bleeding from his forehead and his lab coat sleeve was torn and fouled. He tried several times to open his mouth, but after being pushed inside, he gave up and let their mother hug him. Morty noticed that he grinned at them but returned his gaze to Beth and wanted to reciprocate the hug, but she pushed him away and went back to arguing with Jerry. Jerry went out into the yard and pointed to the big pile of scrap metal, from which the flame was now surely sticking out. She followed them out, leaving Morty and the man in the same shock.
The scene was so bizarre that not a word reached Morty. They simply stood in the middle of the room with a pillow and glanced either at the bickering outside or at the man standing on the threshold, who only after a moment looked at Morty and pointed at their parents.
“Do they always do that?” he asked, and Morty only nodded. They looked at the man, whose face was becoming familiar, and with each passing moment, the pieces of a puzzle that they hadn't thought much about before began to form properly in their mind.
“So nothing changed.” He started looking for something in their pockets. Morty, not knowing what to say, muttered and touched their forehead, and the man glanced at them again and did the same. Only when he looked at his hand did they realize that it was bleeding. “Huh, that explains a lot. Neh, the remains of those hicks scattered over Unukalhai look worse, and even the living ones look like someone threw them in a blender.”
Morty should have been alarmed by any of these words, but they only nodded. They looked at the figure in front of them with a neutral face, and inside they didn't know if they were more calm or stressed.
“Listen, kiddo, it came out stupidly, and now I have your old man on my head, and you don't know me, but-”
“But I know you,” they interrupted without thinking. They didn't think about the words they had in them and started to say. They were stammering nervously, trying to sound as little bizarre as possible. “I mean... I know how it sounds, but I guess, I mean, I know I know you. I mean, I don't know much, but I remember because... You know who I am because... I saw you in my dreams.”
Morty chuckled and smiled at their grandpa.
Rick thought of some random trivia he could bore someone with. The 5P4C3-8U2NY dimension had several variables different from the ones he was in, but the most considerable change was that in his home dimension, dreams that are memories occur 8% more often than in the others. He learned this from one Rick, who has a hobby interest in witchcraft and research on unusual variables. He never thought too much about it and how it was silly, nothing special or an incorrect assumption. But the few percentages kept him from going crazy over the years away from home.
Rick chuckled and smiled at his Morty.
“That's funny, Bunny. I saw you in my dreams too.”