Chapter 22
twenty-two
Dylan
I’m not certain when I actually fall asleep. One minute, I’m cradled in Ash’s arms, willing my racing thoughts to calm. The next, I’m floating near him amid a sea of rainbow light. Half-glimpsed images coalesce and dissolve around us in a ceaseless cycle of nascent creation.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, struggling to absorb the otherworldly sight. “Is this what it looked like when you visited Greta?”
Ash nods, his lips tightening as he surveys the space. “It was like this sometimes when I was a kid too, before I entered an actual dream.”
“A dream of a dream,” I murmur. “Before you shape and control it.”
“Control is a bit of an overstatement,” he grunts. “Whatever this power is, it’s wild and unpredictable. It doesn’t want to be controlled. It never has.”
“So what?” He turns to me, his brows raising as I step (float?) toward him, halting at his side. “You used to do this all the time. Just copy whatever you did back then. Make the dream obey you.”
Ash’s expression twists into a scowl, his eyes narrowing. “Did you miss the part where I failed? My dreams got the better of me and my family. What makes now any different?”
“You’re older. You’re wiser.” I grab his hand and fix him with a grin. “Plus, you have me here to cheer you on.”
He hesitates, his forehead creasing. I step closer, resting my free hand on the firm planes of his chest. “You can do this, Ash. Bullshit or not, a lot of those articles I gave you agreed on one thing—dreamwalking is about your strength of will. And I don’t know anyone as hardheaded as you.”
A startled chuckle bursts from him. Shaking his head, he lets out a long sigh. “All right. Here goes nothing.”
Turning away from me, he faces the multihued expanse and closes his eyes. At first, nothing is precisely what happens. My stomach sinks as I glance about, growing increasingly anxious with each passing moment.
Come on, Ash… I urge silently under my breath. I believe in you.
I let out a loud whoop when the unchanging landscape finally shifts, the vibrant currents veering off course. Waves of color lap against Ash’s ankles, vibrating with something disconcertingly close to excitement as the scintillating sea parts around us, opening onto a black void beneath our feet.
Vertigo seizes me as I stare into the abyss.
This is only a dream. Nothing can hurt you here.
That doesn’t stop my startled shout when reality lurches around us.
In the blink of an eye, the swirling colors are gone.
Instead of black nothingness, I stand on thin carpet, glancing around at a familiar desk and bed.
“What happened?” I demand. I take a step forward, testing the ground underfoot. It seems solid enough, the carpet giving way just like I’d expect. “Did you wake us up?”
Ash slowly opens his eyes. His face breaks into a faint grin. “See for yourself,” he says, gesturing toward the open door leading into the hall.
I squint at him, unease prickling my skin. “What do you…?”
I trail off when I look back at the door and discover a flowering archway blooming in its place. I take a hesitant step toward it, my footstep squishing more than it should. Glancing down, I find that the threadbare carpet in Ash’s room is gone as well, replaced by a bed of soft grass.
“What do you think?” Ash grins and holds out his arms, turning in a slow circle. “Thought I’d spruce the place up a bit.”
“Oh, it’s definitely spruced up,” I say dazedly. I force myself forward, stopping to sniff the flowers when I reach the archway. “Everything feels so real. Even these flowers smell exactly like I’d expect.”
“Of course, they do,” Ash says, his grin growing. “After all, it’s your brain deciding how they should smell.”
I furrow my brow. “What do you mean?”
“You think I’m capable of holding all those details in my head at the same time? I’m only supplying the dream with a general blueprint: transform my aunt’s house into a garden. Our brains fill in the rest.”
Glancing back at the flowering archway, I brush a hand over a pretty blue flower, its petals velvet-soft beneath my fingertips. “That’s…huh. I’m pretty sure if I think too hard about that, my brain might literally explode.”
Ash chuckles. Grass squishes beneath his feet as he approaches, stopping beside me right before the arch. He offers me his hand. “Shall we?”
A faint blush creeps up my neck as I grip his hand, letting him lead me into the hall. The bed of grass continues here, running like a living carpet all the way to a set of stairs formed from tangled vines. Thick branches wind overhead, creating a ceiling of rustling leaves and dappled sunlight.
“This is impossible,” I murmur, trailing my free hand along a wall formed from rough tree bark.
“Everything’s possible in a dream.” He grimaces. “Both the good…and the bad.”
Overhead, the sunlight streaming through the ceiling canopy darkens a hair. Thunder rumbles in the distance. I give Ash’s hand a comforting squeeze, racking my brain for possible distractions while I tug him toward the stairs.
“What about birds?” I ask as we step onto the woven vines, the stairs they form surprisingly springy underfoot. “Or other animals?”
A bright chirp echoes nearby. In a flutter of wings, a chickadee lands on my shoulder. I stare at it, my eyes widening. “You made this that fast?”
Ash’s lip quirks as he shakes his head. “No. You did.”
“Me?”
“Yep.” He nods his head toward the chickadee. “Technically, that bird and everything else here is your dream. All I’ve done is given it a little push to get it started. What we create now, we create together.”
As we descend the stairs, fresh flowers bloom across the vines in our wake. Wonder fills me. “Ash, this is incredible! I can’t believe you haven’t been doing this yourself every single night.”
Something flickers across his face as his smile turns sad. “If it was always like this, then maybe I would. But I’ve told you how dark it can get.”
“Yeah, but maybe it doesn’t have to. With enough practice, maybe you can learn how to suppress the bad in favor of the good. To enact only those changes you mean to enact.”
We reach the bottom of the steps, pausing beside a trickling stream that runs along where the front hall used to be. I gesture at it. “Like that water, for instance. Can you change it?”
Ash frowns. “Change it how?”
“I don’t know! Make it, um…blood or chocolate or 7-up or…”
I trail off as the clear water shifts from a thick, viscous crimson to a milky brown to a fizzling white, all in quick succession.
“Was that you or me?” I ask dazedly.
Ash shrugs. “Hard to tell. Like I said, we’re in this together. One of us imagined it, so it became reality.”
I shake my head. “That’s really all it takes?”
He nods, his expression turning grim. “That’s why it’s so easy to lose yourself in the dream. When you’re happy, the dream is, too. But if you’re angry or scared or sad…”
Another rumble of distant thunder permeates the room. Beside me, Ash suddenly pales, his eyes widening as his bottom lip trembles.
“Ash?” I ask, my concern spiking. “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer or react. It’s as if he doesn’t even hear me.
The room darkens, thunder crashing much closer now.
An instant later, great sheets of water begin to fall, drenching us in a torrential downpour that leaves our soaked clothes clinging to our bodies. I shiver at the chill permeating me.
“Ash!” I cry, my voice lost to the howling wind. The rain is so thick, I can barely make him out only a foot or two away. “If this is you attempting to make a point, you can stop now—I get it!”
His eyes remain fixed in the distance, seemingly oblivious to everything happening around him. I tug him against me, and his entire body shudders.
“Ash, please, talk to me! What the hell is going on?”
He blinks, finally seeming to notice me. “M-m-mom,” he sobs through chattering teeth. He raises a trembling finger.
Lightning cracks, illuminating the area around us. In the brief flash, I spy a huddled form where his aunt’s couch should be, lying unmoving atop a thorny bed of roses. I take in the pinpricks of blood speckling rotten flesh pierced by thorns before I turn away, my stomach churning with bile.
My grip on Ash tightens. “Listen to me, Ash. That is not your mother. This isn’t real—none of it is. We’re dreaming, remember?”
Another shudder ripples through him. “I’m s-so s-sorry, Mom.” He sags in my arms, slipping through my grasp and falling to his knees.
I clench my jaw. Dammit, he’s too lost to his misery to think straight. I need to snap him out of it.
Kneeling before him, I grab the back of his head and tug him toward me until our faces are inches apart. His wide, miserable green eyes regard me.
“You said we create this dream together.” I reach up, cupping his cheek.
I can’t tell how much of the wetness there is from the rain and how much is his tears.
“That means I get a say in this too, and I say you’re stronger than this!
Don’t let your negative emotions control you.
You’re the one in charge here, Ash. Reality is what we make it! ”
He trembles against me. Almost hesitantly, his shaking hands come up, resting on my sides. “What…we…make it…” he murmurs softly.
The torrential rain slows, the lightning and thunder abating along with his harried breaths. Within the span of a few heartbeats, the sudden storm has cleared, returning his aunt’s living room garden to a pristine summer day.
Relief fills me as I sag against him. “Nice work.”
“Sorry,” Ash says. He takes a shuddering breath. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away that easily.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I press a kiss to the matted hair on his forehead. “I was the one who kept pushing you. Maybe it was a bad idea doing this right after you told me about your parents.”
His hand clenches into a fist against my side. “It doesn’t matter. I should be stronger than this.”