Episode 2
When did I fall asleep again?
It feels like it’s around eleven in the morning, though I’m not entirely sure.
People who sleep in late rarely have anything worth hearing about. Those who know how to get things done are already awake and working by ten.
Still, there are always exceptions. I left the study and began strolling through the pitch-black space.
This place was like a waiting room of sorts—a corridor connecting to other people’s dreams.
Which dream should I enter today?
Everyone dreams their dreams.
That’s why stepping into someone else’s dream lets me see landscapes I’ve never seen, hear stories I’ve never heard, and experience things I’ve never experienced—vividly.
A “dream tour,” you could say.
So how do I find the kind of dream that’s useful to me, out of the countless ones drifting around?
There’s a trick to that, too.
Oh, this one’s a bit bright.
Depending on the dreamer’s abilities, the area around the door to their dream can shine brightly.
I don’t know the exact criteria, but I figure it’s probably potential.
It never hurts to remember the names of people whose dream doors shine brightly.
With that in mind—pardon the intrusion, Mr. Howard.
I approached a softly glowing door, turned the knob, and swung it open.
A lush green plain spread out before me, along with the sound of someone cheering.
Finally! I can fly without magic! I’m a genius!
Oh boy.
Have a nice time.
I immediately turned the knob back and shut the door.
Dreams like that are a waste of time with no substance, and if we made eye contact, it would just be awkward for both of us.
Anything else?
It was late morning, so there weren’t many doors around.
After wasting time passing by empty ones, a small door suddenly popped up in the distance. It looked like its owner had just fallen asleep.
At this hour?
Maybe they pulled an all-nighter?
I turned at once and began walking toward the newly appeared door.
Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever explored this side before.
Maybe a newly expanded section?
Now that I look at it, it’s oddly bright over there.
Normally, it should be pitch-black, so why only there?
Puzzled, I walked on until the answer became clear:
A single door was glowing so brightly that it lit up the entire area around it.
I’d never seen a dream door shine this much before. I immediately lifted my gaze to see whose it was.
Where the nameplate should have been, there was nothing at all—just an empty slot.
…A nameless door?
Every dream has an owner. And every owner has a name.
Even if that person’s in a coma, or isn’t even human, or goes by a nickname instead of their real one.
Happy, Choco, Farty, Du-chil, Sam-shik—whatever.
As long as you’re alive, someone calls you by something, and that’s how you exist in the world.
…Really, no name?
I checked carefully, front and back, but there wasn’t so much as a hint of a nameplate.
All the while, the area around the door radiated a brightness I’d never encountered before.
I’m going to go blind just trying to find a name tag.
I stepped back a few paces, tilting my head.
A newborn?
If it were a newborn, I could understand the lack of a nameplate—at least for now.
Either way, one thing was certain: there was no way I could just walk past a door that shone like this.
I can’t spend all day sleeping, so if I miss my timing, I might never see this door again.
Then, excuse me.
Decisive in thought, decisive in action.
I rapped lightly on the door—pointless, since it wouldn’t be heard—and swung it open without hesitation.
The halo of light wrapped around me for an instant, and then
[…]
A deep, engulfing darkness swallowed me whole.
What is this?
Is this because a newborn hasn’t seen anything yet? Or can you even call this a dream?
It was pure nothingness void incarnate.
No sights, no sounds, just pitch-black silence.
Should I leave?
The lack of a name was one thing, but this was unsettling.
I felt around for the door I’d entered through, my fingers brushing the knob
[…There.]
In the dead silence, faint enough to vanish any second, came a voice.
I instinctively loosened my grip on the knob and looked around.
I wasn’t imagining that, was I?
[…Is someone there?]
Keeping my hand tight on the knob—ready to leave at any moment—I cautiously spoke.
The oppressive darkness felt like being dropped into the middle of a haunted house.
Five seconds. I’d wait five seconds, and if I heard nothing, I’d bolt.
I hate dark, cramped spaces.
Five… four… three… two—
W-who are you?
Just before “one,” another small, weak voice seeped into my ears.
I let go of the knob, mind racing.
First of all, this is not a newborn’s dream.
You don’t get speech that precise from a baby. Not unless, like me, they were reincarnated or something.
Though, come to think of it, reincarnation is possible… I’ll put that idea aside for now.
Either way, if the dream’s owner could speak for themselves, then this emptiness was their “dream.”
The more I thought about it, the stranger it was.
I could accept the lack of content and the sudden voice, but…
Why was there no nameplate?
Excuse me.
Whatever the reason, it was worth talking to the dream’s owner now that they’d appeared—at least in voice.
The light from the door wasn’t lying, after all.
I cleared my throat and addressed the unseen dreamer.
Can you hear me?
[…Y-yes.]
A youthful voice drifted out, barely above a whisper.
In the real world, it might’ve been inaudible, but in this space, it slipped easily into my ears.
It felt like being trapped in some massive cavern—and I hated every second of it.
I was about to speak again when—
I’ve… never seen your face before.
The voice came first, trembling like a candle about to go out.
It almost made me feel sorry for them.
It’s not wise to pity someone based on their voice alone, but…
I looked around again, scanning for the dreamer. Still no sign of them.
No name, no appearance—just a voice in the dark.
Should I get out of this bizarre dream now, or at least try to talk a little?
Sure, I could take control of this dream myself if I wanted, but something told me I shouldn’t tamper with it.
My instincts were warning me.
And their awareness is unusually sharp for a dream.
Most people are too absorbed in their dreams to notice me entering at all.
Would it be safer to just leave quickly?
But… I’d never seen a door shine this brightly. If I left now, who knows when I’d get another chance?
What if, after today, they never dream again, or our sleep schedules stop matching?
Or worse, what if they move somewhere beyond my reach entirely?
Talent is precious—and the people who attract money are even more so.
You can’t survive in this harsh world by running away from a slightly weird dream! Well… except I’d probably die first.
Could we talk for a bit? I’m not scary, I promise.
If you could see me, you’d know—I have the most harmless, friendly face.
Yes, I broke into your dream without permission, but let’s just call it a fresh experience.
[…Talk?]
Not knowing which way they were, I smiled vaguely toward the darkness. A frail voice echoed back.
I nodded with an even gentler smile.
Judging by the voice, they seemed to be about my age.
Yes, talk. But first, mind if I change this place a little? I can’t stand the dark.
It’d be great if I could see their face, too. Even better if I could ask their name.
I was just about to swirl my finger to alter the surroundings when—
N-no!
The sudden, trembling shout stopped me cold. I flinched involuntarily.
I hadn’t expected a refusal.
Usually, I alter dreams without the owner’s awareness.
Then just talking for a bit?
T-that’s not allowed either.
Ah. I see.
Well, I could just leave, then.
Talented people are valuable, sure, but if they don’t want it, there’s nothing I can do.
I shrugged lightly and reached for the knob—
[I was told not to talk to anyone I haven’t been permitted to.]
The voice still trembled, but there was an urgency in it now that made me pause once again.
