The Dagda Ring: The Dream Defenders, #2

By Neal DenHartog

Nolan Erling is alive and well. Only he doesn't know why.

After surviving the violent Deathmare attack, he hopes he might find answers as he begins training at the DREAM Institute. Unfortunately, getting answers and learning how to navigate and manipulate his dreams is far more difficult than he imagined, and things only become more confusing when he discovers there are more victims like himself.

People are dying in their sleep, only to wake up days later in the morgue. When Aeryn Sandman is officially brought in to investigate, it doesn't take long for her to discover something far more sinister going on. These victims may be waking, but their return to the land of the living comes at a cost.

Someone in the dream world is ripping their souls apart and keeping the pieces for themselves. As Aeryn and Nolan discover the truth behind who is responsible, the attacks strike closer and closer to home. The pair must decide how much they are willing to risk to put a stop to the perpetrator because there are far worse things than dying in the dream world, and no one around them is safe.

Strap in and get your defense ready. The Dream Defenders are heading on another wild adventure!

• Language: English
• Publisher: August Inkling Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733839624

Book preview

Dedication

For all those who dare to dream big.

Chapter One:

Shark Attack

Why is it that sharks in the dream world are always bigger than their real-world counterparts?

Always. Without fail.

Aeryn Sandman was wondering this very thing as the gray fin of one such creature knifed through the water toward her. Sure, she was only basing this observation on the shark in this particular dreamscape, but it must hold true because, you know, dream sharks. The fin itself was as large as a sail on a catamaran, and she had no doubt the owner of said fin would swallow her whole if given the opportunity. Although that outcome would certainly be better than being chomped in half. She could wind up living in its belly like Geppetto and the whale from Pinocchio.

Are you sure we’re going to be okay?

Somewhere behind Aeryn, her newest recruit was eyeing her skeptically. A short girl with wavy dark hair stood with her arms crossed in the knee-deep water. She had been surprisingly calm up until this point, taking every revelation about the Dreamstream, the place dreamers travel to every night as they rest, as well as the DREAM Institute that governed it, in stride. But now a hint of trepidation wavered throughout her spoken question.

As recruitment missions go, this one was on track to become a raging success. Aeryn had already shown the girl how to jump and fly, and how to travel between dreamscapes. Now she was presenting an Institute-approved lesson: showing the new recruit how to manipulate a native of the dream world to demonstrate the dreamer’s true power over their own dreams. Or, as it related to the current scenario, shrinking a giant shark to the size of a poodle, and then turning it into a miniature dolphin.

Aeryn winked at her companion. Of course. Have I let you down thus far, Natalie?

The shark swam straight at them, and Aeryn’s bravado was not only for Natalie’s benefit, but her own as well. Dream sharks are terrifying no matter how harmless they may actually be. And even though the recruitment mission continued to go well, she could not help but think about her first one nearly two months ago. The one that abruptly ended with one of the worst breaches in Institute history and, worse, the unexpected loss of the life of her recruit. A result like that would continue to haunt her for a while, regardless of how many successful missions she ran after that.

Aeryn sighed, pushing the thought from her mind. Everything had turned out okay in the end. Nolan Erling had come back to life and was now training at the Institute. Her superiors had allowed her back in the field, and she’d proven the first incident was a fluke last month, when she brought in a young boy named Jesse Sanchez without issue. She could totally handle this.

I can go run and grab a lifeguard, if you want, Natalie suggested, her eyes nervously darting down the beach. Or a harpoon gun.

Despite the shark closing in, Aeryn risked a glance behind her. A harpoon gun? She blew a loose strand of bright red hair out of her eyes. That’s like cheating.

Natalie shrugged. If you say so.

Anything may go while dreaming, but what sort of lesson would this be if Aeryn resorted to something so mundane to subdue the animal?

Nope, poodle shark mini-dolphin it must be.

Aeryn plunged her hands into the surf directly in front of her. She felt the wake of the approaching creature churning toward her, but that wasn’t what she was searching for. There should be a low undercurrent of energy coming from the beast. This dream energy, or somniatic energy as the Institute liked to call it, could be easily manipulated by even the least skilled dreamer. Most of them did this unknowingly, with just a thought alone, but Aeryn had a rapid and spectacular transformation planned to impress her recruit, so morphing this particular native of the dream world would take a little more effort and finesse.

While her fingers waited, the shark drew closer. Thirty feet out now, it was way bigger than she remembered. The fin loomed overhead, and the rush of water whooshed against her belly as it closed the gap with frightening speed.

Alarm bells went off in her head as she failed to detect even the faintest traces of energy. No prickling. No tingling. Nothing.

Where was its aura of energy? Was the beast shielded somehow?

Ten more questions along those lines would have flooded through her head had the shark given her time. Instead, it shot out of the water, slicing through the air with its jaw open like a flesh-seeking toothy rocket. Natalie let out a heinous squeal, a perfectly appropriate reaction. Aeryn may have been squealing too, but things were moving too fast for it to register. Determined not to let the beast get past her, she grabbed onto a tooth, her possible squeal morphing into a bubbly, garbled mess as the shark plunged them under water.

They should have hit the beach almost immediately, but distances can be tricky in the dream world. Something very near can take all night to walk to. Other times, large expanses can be covered in a single bound. Worse yet, an entire sea can expand around you, so just when you think you’re going to be free from the wrath of an ocean predator, you’re dragged deeper into its natural habitat.

Aeryn went on the offensive. Risking a sliced hand, she wrenched on the tooth as the water rushed around her. With a pop, it twisted loose, and the satisfaction of pulling it free was immediate.

Take that, Jaws.

With the tooth clenched tightly in her hand, Aeryn rolled to the side, allowing the shark’s momentum to push her along its body as it surged ahead. She launched off a fin, then up to its back, like aquatic dance moves were a normal, everyday practice during her last few years of training. She seized the dorsal fin as the creature rose to the surface. The water cleared from her vision as she stood on the shark’s back. Up ahead, she could make out Natalie running away down the beach.

Nat! Aeryn called out. Come back! I got this! She lofted the shark tooth above her head as if the trophy might sway Natalie’s opinion of her handle on the situation. To her credit, the girl slowed enough to risk a glance back at the spectacle. Curiosity replaced terror as she watched Aeryn riding on the back of the creature.

The beast sped up, surging ahead through the ocean. Aeryn stumbled, nearly losing her grip on both the fin and the tooth. Before she knew it, the shark had launched clear out of the water again, higher than any dolphin, and with a trajectory far deadlier than the cutesy somersaults of those adorable mammals.

It was heading right for Natalie.

Her new recruit screamed again, another perfectly normal response when faced with a heat-seeking shark missile. At that exact moment Aeryn suddenly felt a thread of somniatic energy trace itself along the dorsal fin. Finally! She jabbed the broad, triangular tooth into the shark’s skin and gathered the invisible thread of energy in her hand, pulling on it and willing the shark to decrease in size in her mind. Some skilled energy workers could physically manipulate the thread, but Aeryn simply used it as a tether to direct her thoughts, repeating the word, shrink, over and over. Not the cleverest of mantras, but the time for finesse had long come and gone. She hoped even this sort of sloppy oneiromanipulation would impress Natalie.

Under her fingers, the animal’s skin began to ripple, morphing with her simple mantra. They were still traveling in a straight line at poor Natalie, but with the mass of the beast rapidly decreasing, their momentum would likely drop them far short of its target. Aeryn rode unsteadily on its back as the dorsal fin shrank from her grasp, her feet sliding across its slippery skin. The shark was now the size of a skateboard, and, like any good skater, Aeryn knew when to bail.

She leapt to the side and skidded to a stop in the sand as the small shark buried itself like an errant tee shot at the feet of her recruit.

Natalie took a step back, wiping sand from her jeans. One shot, she said, sighting down the barrel of an imaginary gun at the wriggling creature. Could have saved you a lot of trouble.

"Pfft. Aeryn yanked the shark up by the tail and held it out to the girl. You realize this cute little guy was about to swallow us both whole less than a minute ago?"

Your point?

My point is, look at what we are capable of, Natalie. She placed a hand on the shark’s gills and willed them to disappear. They shrank until they were tiny dots that blended right into the gray skin of the creature. Then she rounded out the head and the nose and opened a small blow hole. See. We’ve made ourselves a tiny, adorable dolphin. You can’t do that with a harpoon gun.

So this is what you guys do? Turn sharks into dolphins?

Oh, this? Aeryn tossed the dolphin into the water and watched it swim away. This is nothing. A sampling of what’s possible. Remember, I told you, this dreamscape is regulated by the Institute, so it’s relatively tame. Out there. She pointed out beyond the ocean. In all the other dreamscapes, well, things can get pretty crazy. That’s what we really train for. Most dreamers don’t even realize the dangers they’re in. It’s up to us to protect them.

Natalie frowned, her doubt evident. Well, I hope you do a better job out there. You seemed to be riding the struggle bus even more efficiently than that shark.

Aeryn scowled at her assessment. In preparation, she’d practiced this exact manipulation the other night with her supervisor, Jade Melody, and the metamorphosis had been a piece of cake. The weird energy issue tonight had to be a fluke. A glitch in the dreamscape, perhaps.

All part of the plan, Aeryn lied. Could have been a lot worse. He could have brought buddies. With laser beams attached to their heads.

Or walking mutant sharks. Armed with shark-toothed chainsaws.

A shudder passed through Aeryn. Please don’t joke about mutants.

Natalie arched an eyebrow, but said nothing further. Aeryn tried her best to stifle a nervous glance to the water, and instead hooked her recruit by the elbow to lead her up the beach. I think we’ve done enough for one night. Maybe tomorrow you can take a crack at the shark.

Natalie stopped walking. We have to do this again?

At least one more night. The good news is, at school tomorrow we’ll get to talk about what happened tonight. That way you’ll know this isn’t just a part of some crazy dream. Well, that, and I need you to tell me a secret so I can relay it back to you.

Natalie stared at her for three long seconds. That’s a thing?

Unfortunately, yeah. But, seeing as we only met a week ago, you probably have all kinds of secrets I don’t know about. It doesn’t need to be anything earth-shattering, but it’s gotta be better than ‘I sit behind Tyler Hockensen in geometry class so I can stare at his dreamy long locks all day long.’

"But you sit behind Tyler Hockensen."

I know. Aeryn winked at her. "I said it has to be your secret."

Oh. She blushed and chewed on her lip for a bit. Well. What if I told you tonight wasn’t the first time I’ve heard of the DREAM Institute?

We are a secret organization, but secrecy can only go so far. You wouldn’t be the first to find out about us without our knowledge.

"Don’t you want to know how I know?"

Not really. She wanted Natalie to tell her a different secret, but she bit anyway. Go on.

I found a native who claimed you guys imprisoned him. He’s been speaking to me in my dreams. Natalie stared up at her. And he’s not happy with you.

Chapter Two:

How’s Your Veridical?

Nolan Erling expected school at the DREAM Institute to include a lot more dreaming than it actually did. Turns out the first two weeks focused heavily on theory and science, with barely any practical lessons. In order to prepare the students , all of his teachers said. Like he hadn’t been dreaming his entire life.

Classes such as Stream Theory, Dreamscape 101, and Stream History threatened to bore him to death and make him swear off the Institute altogether. He didn’t find the subjects entirely uninteresting, but all he really wanted was to start learning how to control his supposed powers. Luckily, in the two months since discovering the truth behind the Dreamstream and the Institute that defended the dreamers inside it, he hadn’t freed any psychotic Deathmares from their prisons or put any of his friends and family in danger. In fact, the one time he had purposefully manipulated his dreams, it was to help his friend, Marshall Sandman, rid himself of a particularly persistent nightmare.

That had to count for something, and Nolan felt more than ready for the practical stuff. Thankfully, he was slated to dive into his first wet lesson a few hours later this afternoon, so any thoughts of dropping out would have to wait until after his first taste of hands-on learning. The anticipation alone made sitting through the morning’s Stream History lesson much easier, mostly because Nolan was daydreaming about the potential excitement forthcoming in the afternoon, rather than paying attention to his teacher at the head of the classroom. Perhaps if Mr. Harrison spoke in less of a monotone and considered wearing something other than a yellow sweater vest and a striped bow tie, he might get more students to follow his lectures.

Unfortunately, this rampant daydreaming left Nolan completely unaware that his name was being called at the front of the classroom until it had been repeated four times. By then, the eyes of every student had latched on to him.

Nolan, did you hear me? You have a visitor, Mr. Harrison told him, a clear frown plastered across his face.

Nolan’s eyes shot up from his desk to find Director Sandman standing near his history professor. The man wore a frown too, but a hint of amusement pulled at the corners of it as his steely gaze made Nolan squirm in embarrassment.

"Great. Golden Boy gets special treatment again," said a voice behind him.

Nolan tossed a glare at an older boy two seats back. Blake Browder hadn’t liked him from day one. With good reason, Nolan supposed. His dad, Blaise, hadn’t been a fan of Nolan’s either, and if one were to get super technical about the details of the ill-fated factory dream two months back, Blaise was no longer alive because of Nolan. When he had deflected the deadly attack from a powerful nightmare known as the Soul Scare away from his friend Marshall, Blaise ended up on the receiving end of it.

Nice to see you, sir, Nolan said slowly. Geoffrey had never interrupted his lessons before, and he had no clue what would cause him to do so now. Despite Blake’s sentiment, this was the first sign of anyone giving Nolan special treatment since joining the Institute.

I need to borrow you for the remainder of the class period, Geoffrey told him. If that’s okay with you.

Hopefully his nod wasn’t too eager, lest he hurt his teacher’s feelings, but the offer sure beat listening to Mr. Harrison’s account of the Great Unraveling of Sixteen Hundred Twenty-Whatever. Nolan slammed his books into his backpack and raced to the front of the room in record time.

Geoffrey nodded curtly toward the professor. Thank you, Edmund. You know I would never pull a student from your classroom without good reason.

Of course, sir.

Geoffrey ferried him away quickly, out the door and down the stone corridors of the Institute. Their footsteps padded along the rock for a few moments before Nolan asked him, So what’s all this about?

Mr. Sandman smiled down at him. I have a dream.

Several seconds passed by. Nolan blinked and watched the man’s dopey grin. Okay, Dr. King. Care to elaborate on that one?

For you. I have a dream for you to see. One of our Veridical dreamers found something useful.

Are those the dreamers who can see true events from the past when they dream? Nolan vaguely recalled Geoffrey mentioning this to him after his run-in with the Deathmares. Their dreams allowed the Institute to gather evidence regarding crimes without needing an eyewitness.

That’s right. Our two best Veridical dreamers have been assigned to Crispin’s case ever since the incident. It took some time, but our persistence paid off. Joan Elkins got her hands on a nice juicy dream the other day, direct from the factory dreamscape.

Part of Nolan was hoping for news of his birth parents. Geoffrey seemed to think knowing who they were might explain how he survived the Deathmare attack, but his mention of Crispin likely meant this dream was part of the investigation into the former Head of the Maintenance Department’s illegal activities. Crispin Devereaux had stolen a powerful artifact, infiltrated an isolated area of the Dreamstream, and facilitated the release of a couple of Deathmares. As the name implies, these creatures don’t run around giving dreamer hugs. They kill them.

Eventually, the pair found their way to Geoffrey’s office. A gap stood in the wall where there had once been a sprawling bookcase, the shelves pulled back like a curtain to reveal a trio of sleep chambers in a hidden chamber beyond.

So this is how you nap at work, Nolan said appreciatively. My dad would kill for one of these in his office.

It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I spend so little time in the Dreamstream these days.

You’re telling me. I’ve been at school here for two whole weeks, and nothing.

Geoffrey chuckled. Oh, don’t worry. The time will come. Heard your first wet lesson is this afternoon.

Yeah. Unless this happens to take all day. Nolan wasn’t sure what to expect from the dream Geoffrey was about to share.

Not to worry. I’m aware time inside a dream can be a little wonky, but I’ve viewed this several times already this morning. We’ll have you in and out in no time, even if you insist on multiple viewings.

Geoffrey walked around his desk and plucked a short, round glass vial from amongst the stacks of paperwork. Here it is. He held the bottle out toward Nolan, who could make out a swirling collection of smoke inside. It drifted around like the remnants of a Wispe teleporting away.

Oh. You have an actual dream.

Geoffrey gave him a smug smirk. Pretty cool, huh? Not what you were expecting, I take it?

Nolan shook his head. I thought maybe a video or something.

Nah. Our MRI imaging is only for monitoring our oneironauts in real-time, but when we want a record of it, catching a dream is much more effective.

Geoffrey marched the vial over to one of the sleep chambers, unscrewed the lid, and attached it to a fitting with a tube running to another area of the chamber. Nolan had never seen this done before, but he assumed the point was to allow them to dream incubate directly to this captured dream.

For the record, you should know I am under no obligation to show any of this to you. I’ve kept things from you in the past, but I plan on doing things differently from here on out. Full disclosure, if I must.

Does that mean you’re going to share your precognitive dreams with me?

When Geoffrey identified him a few months back, it was because he had seen great things from him in his own dreams. He never went on to explain what those great things were, but Nolan had a sneaking suspicion they had to do with his part in remedying the Deathmare fiasco.

Sorry, Nolan. We never share precognitive dreams with the subject. The pressure of striving to fulfill those dreams can become too much. Geoffrey placed a hand on his shoulder before turning back to the sleep chambers. I probably should have never mentioned them in the first place.

A silence crept over them as Geoffrey dialed in the chambers. These technological wonders of the DREAM Institute served many functions for the dreamer, including speeding up the transition to REM sleep, monitoring vitals, and dream incubating to certain dreamscapes, as they were about to do now.

Before we go, I need to warn you about something. This dream takes place in the factory we both had the misfortune to visit a few weeks back. There will be things in this dreamscape that are hauntingly familiar.

Like Crispin and the Deathmares? Nolan asked, his hands suddenly clammy.

Yes, exactly. The good news is, they cannot interact with us, and we cannot interact with them. We can move around and view things from different angles, but we can’t influence the dream in any way.

Nolan nodded. Got it.

Good. Now, in you go. Geoffrey motioned toward one of the chambers, and Nolan obliged him by clambering inside. He settled into the plush cushioning, while the darkness closed in around him, and before he knew it, he came to in the dream world.

Nolan felt the mesh of the damp, metal catwalk surrounding the factory floor against his cheek first. His fingers curled around the cool aluminum lattice, and he pushed himself up to survey the eerily familiar surroundings. The overall sense of calmness made Nolan guess this was taking place before his encounter with the Deathmares.

None of us are here yet, Geoffrey said from behind him, confirming his suspicions.

Below, a shadow rose and fell against the back wall, moving with fluid ease. No, not a shadow. It was the Shadow, the Deathmare who had tried to kill both Nolan and Marshall. A shudder involuntarily took hold of him.

Geoffrey laid a hand on his shoulder. I warned you about this. Are you okay?

I’m fine, Nolan said, doing his best to ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut.

We can always do this another time.

Nolan shook his head. No. You said this was important.

Follow me, then, Geoffrey told him as he moved down the catwalk.

They descended a ladder to the ground floor and inched their way to the back wall. The smell of dripping oil from the machinery assaulted Nolan’s nostrils as they walked past the conveyers, and the mere scent of it brought unbidden memories of his fight with the Shadow to the surface. He ignored them as best he could and tailed Geoffrey down a hallway, away from the main floor. Up ahead, muffled voices drifted toward the pair. They followed the sounds until they stood just outside an open door.

Let’s say I can power up the knife for you. What is in it for me? The voice was cold and calculated, slithering out of the room and curling around Nolan with a sudden chill. He knew the owner almost immediately: Drexler Bogman, the escaped prisoner who had helped Crispin in his attempt to perfect the Soul Scare.

Why, anything you want, Crispin’s voice replied. It had the same sharp twang to it here in the recorded dream.

Silence followed for a moment before Drexler continued. I don’t think even you can give me what I want. As far as I know, it’s never been done before.

Geoffrey took a step into the room and motioned for Nolan to follow him. For a second, Nolan almost yelled a warning to him, but then he remembered neither criminal would be able to see the two of them. Inside the room, Drexler and Crispin stood at opposite ends of a square metal table. Drexler idly twirled an obsidian blade by the handle with his long fingers, the point balanced against the surface of the table. His dark eyes bored into Crispin with a look of barely constrained contempt, like he was about to leap across the table at him with the knife in hand.

Crispin had a mop of curly hair and wore his wire-rimmed glasses, not bothering to disguise his dream avatar as he had during the later encounter. He still wore a ridiculous cape, and although Geoffrey had said they couldn’t interact with the dream, Nolan’s fingers fought the urge to grasp the cloth and wrap it around the man’s neck.

You’d be surprised what’s possible these days, Crispin told him. Tell me what you have in mind, and I’ll let you know if I can be of assistance.

Drexler’s scowl deepened, and he hesitated. If Nolan were to guess, he wasn’t too keen on asking for help, even if it was in exchange for services rendered.

You may have freed me from that prisonscape, but you know entirely too well my existence does not border on anything near free.

Crispin smiled. For a man who spent every waking minute yelling, the thin smirk was disturbing. You’re stuck in the Stream.

For now.

You want your life restored, then? Is that it?

Drexler’s grip on the blade tightened. Not necessarily. All I want is power. A way to influence dreams the way I once could. Aside from helping you charge up this Deathmare I’m next to useless, and it’s infuriating.

Ah, yes. That unfortunate side effect of imprisoning your body in the Stream as well. Lucky for you, there are other ways to obtain power in this place. Crispin raised an eyebrow at him. I should introduce you to the Oneiroi.

Nolan’s thoughts churned, his forehead ruffling. Where had he heard that term before? All he could remember was that the Institute liked to use the term oneiro to describe anything dream related.

Drexler chuffed. An extinct race of Dream Gods? They’re useless now. Their strength is gone.

Crispin put his hands down on the metal surface. Is it? Sure, they may be scattered and hidden, but their abilities remain very much intact. They’re just waiting to take back control of the dream world.

I don’t need to rule this place.

Crispin sighed. I think you’ll want to hear me out on the Oneiroi. They can help us take down the Institute.

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. How about you fix my tenuous existence first, and then we can discuss what to do about your Institute. Now, can you help me with that or not?

Crispin peered down his wire-rimmed glasses at the man. Of course I can. This is tricky business, though. There are consequences.

Drexler seized the knife from the table and ran a finger along the blade. One man sees consequences, another sees opportunities.

"Let’s start with what I know for sure. Despite the rumors, natives can find their way to the real world. But be warned, the process is not easy, and you’re not exactly a true native."

We both know Wispes don’t count, Drexler snarled.

Nolan remembered Aeryn telling him the smoky teleporting animals were once natives of the dream world. He never got around to learning the details of the exportation process, but he knew that some part of it was responsible for the creatures being unable to hold a stable physical form.

Crispin held up a hand in defense. I’m not talking about Wispes. A couple years after your imprisonment began, someone from the Institute smuggled several natives out of the Dreamstream. All human. Full flesh and blood when they got out. No one had ever done it before. And no one has done it since.

And how did this person succeed when so many others failed?

I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’ve pieced together a few things over the years. Details of the incident are hard to come by, the records sealed beyond even my pay grade. They exiled the man in question and wiped his mind in the process. Fortunately, I’ve had other means of obtaining this information at my disposal.

Drexler frowned. Sorry, but I can’t trust your best guess. We need to find this man. Mind wipe or not, there are ways to get at the information.

So untrustworthy, Crispin said with a shake of his head. Then his smile deepened as he tapped the stolen Death Totem hanging from his neck. Lucky for you, we can pay this man a visit once you fulfill your end of the bargain. We know exactly where he’ll be dreaming.

We do?

We do. He’s occupying your former prison cell as we speak.

The man eyed the knife in his hands appreciatively before returning Crispin’s smile. As it stretched across his lips, Nolan felt as if Drexler had just twisted the knife into his own spine. They could only be talking about one person.

Frostee.

Chapter Three:

The Waking Dead

The remainder of the Veridical dream passed in a blur. If the last few moments conveyed any important information, Nolan clearly didn’t remember it. The allusion to Frostee being central to Crispin and Drexler’s plans had thrown him for a loop, and the possibilities were so inconceivable he could not process them.

Frostee Shupert was a former director of the DREAM Institute, but prior to that revelation, Nolan had only known him as his goofy next-door neighbor. Despite being seventy years his senior, Frostee had become Nolan’s best friend, and knowing he was stuck in a prisonscape, unable to wake, was heartbreaking. They couldn’t free him either, because a Deathmare stood guard outside his prison doors. The only thing capable of controlling any Deathmare, the Death Totem, had been lost in the chaos of the factory dream. So his friend continued to suffer in a prison designed to hold the Institute’s most dangerous criminals. Frostee was far from dangerous or criminal.

Nolan took the revelation of the Veridical dream so hard that Geoffrey let him go for the afternoon with little explanation as to why he’d brought him along. Surely it hadn’t been to bring up the hurt of Frostee’s imprisonment. Instead, Geoffrey must be concerned with what Drexler was up to in the Dreamstream. Nolan supposed he should be concerned too, but he could only think of how he wanted his best friend back in his life, smiling and laughing and enjoying every moment with his lopsided goofy grin and tuft of wild gray hair.

The mix of sadness and anger carried Nolan to his next class, where he took his seat and fumed until his teacher eventually told the students, The sleep chambers are ready for use.

The statement broke him from his reverie, and Nolan finally remembered his first wet lesson was about to commence. His shook his head, trying to clear his mind and prep himself