Life, an oh so precious thing, right? It is when it's not spiraling out of control, making all sense of reality and fiction one. Though that blending pot might seem interesting to anyone else, it most certainly isn't something I love dealing with day to day. Anyone would probably hate it too if I were to tell them what my skill entailed. But, I suppose it comes with the territory of being what I am. What a loathsome thing to deal with the inquires of my tedious life. It was never ending questions of; “Oh how do you pull off such amazing grades when you sleep through every class and never know when there's a test?!” That's all I got day in and day out from those that surrounded me. I sleep at least a good eighteen hours a day. Notice, not a lot of awake and social time. I could probably make time for that, but I'm particular on staying nocturnal. But I'm rambling now and in my sleep no less, so I'm going to wake myself up and plunge into reality for a moment or two.

I shot straight up in my seat, blinking slightly bleary eyed from my nap. It was rare that my dreams were a solo gig. I turned around in my chair checking the time on the clock. As if on cue the bell screamed out, allowing us to rise and go to the next class. I gathered my bag (which carried nothing but tylenol and a bottle of water in it) and exited into the throngs of students. The whispers invaded my mind, the pleading and begging; hoping and praying; wishing and wanting. I allowed my gaze to slip away, everything becoming blurry. I worked my way through the whispers trying to determine which was more important. Each was tied to a tether, different strands of various colors and textures. Each had its own pulse of emotion, desperation, hunger, anger, greed; but most of all, need.  I grasped onto one, feeding off its emotion, feeling how much the person desired something.

Unconsciously I sat down in my next class. I was lulled to sleep with the words echoing in my head. It was distinct, but indistinct; there was no voice, yet I could hear something telling me the wants. I felt the familiar tug of leaving. The blackness of my sleep was replaced, I was in a wasteland. The desperation almost forced me to my knees. I forced myself to walk forward. Soon enough thats when I encountered the desperation; the mirror. Unclear as to what this indication was I stepped closer. I reached up to touch the mirror when an angry figure appeared in it. Screaming incoherently like a banshee but less appealing. More mirrors appear, soon I was enshrouded by them, feeling the negativity and hate push me down. I wanted to dispel this, stop the pain. My arms were on fire, only cooling with liquid. I took the time to look down at them, cuts, angry, hating, unwanted. I struggled to my feet, staring at the first mirror that I had approached. It was simple; simply painful though. I reeled my arm back and with all the force I could muster, I thrusted it forward, cracking the mirror only slightly. I grimaced at the pain. I was lucky to of just cracked it. I launched for another punch, the screaming was only amplifying, the crack was mending itself. Before it could finish back to its smooth form, I cracked it again. I repeated the process, trying to be faster with my blows.

“Come!” I bellowed. The mirror was just one more blow from shattering. “Show yourself!” My voice was raspy as if I had been screaming for ages.

A tiny, frail girl was almost immediately next to me. Her crystal blue eyes were hollow and penetrating. I almost shied away from her. Her empty gaze slid over to the mirror, the crystal coldness retreating slightly and being replaced with a richer, darker blue, like that of the sky when the sun was setting.

“Go.” I implored her, pushing her closer to the mirror that was desperately trying to fix itself.

Her pale rose petal pink lips stretched into a smile, widening, revealing a malicious smile. “Thank you.” Her voice was like a soft symphony coming back to life.

She drew her hand back and punched with all the force she could muster. The mirror shattered, the others following ceremoniously. The wasteland was starting to flutter with light, slowly coming back to life. My wrists were no longer cut and bleeding. Just as the landscape was becoming a beautiful haven it drifted from my sight. The blackness of the inside of my eyelids returned and I was back in class. That event never occurred, not to me, not to her, but there was a change, one less whisper.

The bell rang again, the end of the day, sweet blissful sleep (I hope.) I slipped away, passing by like a ghost in the dead of night. Terrible analogy considering I did in fact look like a ghost, my skin pallid, dark rings making my eyes look sunken in. I looked like an insomniac, but that wasn't the case. I got more sleep than a bear during hibernation! I was a fright to look at too, just as a ghost, my hair was a wild pale blond mess, always tangled, never brushed, my body was gaunt as if I haven't eaten anything in a month, though I wasn't to the point of bones jutting out every where, my ribs, hips, and spine was just a little more noticeable than the average healthy weight teenager.

Whispers were still an echo, some dulling down to a faint hum, then dying out completely. My body slumped and went slightly rigid, thinking of the hums now. I couldn't ever find the string for the hums, it was too hazy, not tangible enough. I walked numbly and almost blindly home. The birds sweet calls lost to the humming. There was one that wasn't a whisper, it was a loud hum, rattling my mind, shaking my thoughts. I allowed my mind to wrap around the string, it felt like wool but burned a bright neon blue, almost blinding had it been real. There was no desire from it. That unnerved me greatly. I allowed my mind to cling to it, not to let the hum wither away.

I slipped into the still house, dropping onto my couch. My eyelids were heavy with desperate need for sleep. My mind eased away, slipping into the tether. The wind ran softly through my hair, it felt as if it was being washed gently. I inhaled and almost choked on the smell it was bitter, disgusting, and filled with the stench of death. I opened my eyes to see what the source of it was. The land was clear and clean, beautiful and healthy, nothing could cause that kind of smell. I tentatively stepped further into the dream world. My feet squelched. I looked down the ground seemed normal, aside from my feet sinking slightly. This was definitely new and strange, even for me. My body soon started to ache, the pain spread rapidly, I couldn't take it. It felt like a thousand scalding knives were slowly cutting me to ribbons, but my blood had no where to pour out from. My breath caught in my throat, trapping a needed scream. I felt immobilized, it was excruciating pain. I wanted desperately to get out.

I had never been trapped in another person's dream like this. I never was trapped, I always helped them defeat their inner demon and left when they were going to be okay again. A dream weaver never gets stuck, ever. That's what I am. A dream weaver. I plunge into the minds, the thoughts, help them find a release, that's my reason. Each need something. The last girl I helped, she needed hope in herself. Everyone around her was turning their nose up at her, putting her down, making her feel pathetic, I helped her shatter their words. But this dream, it was strange, not like anything I had ever been in. I had been in beauty such as this, but not before the problem was fixed. Maybe it was because I was in the mind of one who's lost all hope already. I mean, the tether was only humming, but it was a loud hum, that meant somewhere deep inside the person, they wanted to be happy, to not feel this anger that was in them. That's all they emitted, anger, hatred, loathing.

I looked around anxiously, no one in sight. Nothing for miles in this mind. Not to say this person was an air head but it certainly seemed like they were. Maybe it was one of those people who created something terrible for themselves to gain attention? I doubted that, I never once got a case like that. Still, that was the only thing I could hold onto for hope. If this person didn't fix their problem on their own, or show them self then, I most certainly was going to be stuck here forever. Never to wake up, I'd be in a coma.