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She retraced her steps over and over again, afraid to get lost once more.
She had gathered most of the fragments of her broken dreams, but it had taken her countless nights, wandering from door to door without a map to guide her. She had crossed fields covered with a thick layer of snow, ridden her bicycle down thirty flights of stairs, flown in a spaceship with a tall man who could only play the piano, and had even visited Hell on more than one occasion, although every occasion was terrible. It had all been written down in the dream diary that neatly rested on the table beside her bed. It was her own prophecy, and she had to fulfill it, however long it took.
The worlds she travelled through were endless, and she had lost her way more than once, even though she knew the environments so well – they were her own subconscious creations, after all. She would then have to pinch herself awake, painfully digging her thumb and index finger into her cheek, and all progress made overnight would be gone. Her project had therefore taken her a long time to complete – there were 24 fragments, scattered across her imaginary worlds, and each of them had to be collected before she could escape.
Escape from who, or what, her friends from the dreams asked her, although no words were spoken – but it was in their eyes, and she understood. But she would not answer. Everyone had to find out for themselves – even her.
She was down to only one fragment left to be found, in the image of a black cat. She had saved this for last – she had even collected minor, seemingly useless artifacts before this one. Until now, the order had not been important, but she knew that if she collected this one before the others, it would all be for nothing. Because that fragment was the one that would end it all, and she did not want it to end before the other 23 had been picked up by her frail hands.
So she went through a door among many others, and instinctively ran to what she thought resembled a mall – some place she must have been to before she decided to pursue her quest.
That was a long time ago.
She then took the escalator up, up, up, until she stood on the roof with the moon looking down on her. The sky was dark, and the sun’s opposite served as her only light in the thick darkness.
Behind her came the sound of a swishing tail and a rumbling purr, and as she turned, she was greeted by a pair of familiar yellow eyes in the dark. The black cat called for her, crouched on top of a small shed mainly used for maintenance, and she went to greet it with her hand outstretched, palm open and, accepted its gift meant only for her.
The cat awarded her with the chance to fly, on a broom, like in the old movies about witches and magic. But that memory was long forgotten by now, along with most of the others. For quite some time, the only memories that mattered were the ones that could help her find her way through the dream-worlds.
She spent the rest of the night practicing how to fly, only soaring a few feet above the roof. It had to be perfect for the grand finale, the one she had been waiting for all these nights. She had prepared for it, left her dream diary neatly placed in the middle of her desk. She had cleaned the shelves of her book case, vacuumed the carpet, wiped the dust from her television – her room was pristine, and when it was done, she had also taken the time to make herself just as clean and pretty.
It was time to change – and she had told herself that an end equals a new beginning.
And the sun rose, painting the sky a deep orange, wiping the stars off the canvas.
She went to the edge of the roof, careful not to look down. Instead she looked over her shoulder to say farewell and thank the cat. The rest of her friends had gathered as well, crept up on the roof in the early hours to watch, but they had kept quiet until now. She did not have any words for them, nor for herself. No words were needed now; they all knew that.
So they all greeted her farewell and good luck, in their silent way that she had grown accustomed to.
It was curtain call.
She leapt over the edge, broom in her hand, smiling. She had finally gathered all 24 fragments, and the puzzle was finally complete.
Then, in mid-air, a realization struck her:
She wasn’t dreaming anymore.