The dream always ended the same.
I'd get to the door, open it, and be blasted with a bolt of magic before my eyes could adjust to the flood of light on the other side.
It wouldn't both me so much if the rest of the dream stayed the same as well.
But no. Each time, I'm filled with this urgent need to get to that door, to get to whatever is on the other side. Sometimes I have to fight monsters, other times I pick my way through devious traps. The dream normally takes place over the span of a day, but I wonder if it would stretch through another day if I tried to go slower.
Or would I finally get a new ending, where my quest is cut short before I can get blasted by a magic from the other side of the door?
I don't know.
I think I have companions in the dream, but I've never seen them. It feels like I should have companions when I'm in the dream.
And another thing about this dream. It's so vivid. I can remember everything about it, long after I've woken up and gone through the day. I'm pretty sure that dreams are supposed to fade from your mind, or at least get a little fuzzy around the edges. I used to have dreams that would fade.
Now I only have the one.
The reoccurring dream that is never the same until the very end.
Besides, how many dreams have you had where you know that they're dreams? I always know in this one, underneath the urgent need, that it is the dream.
Sometimes the dream is so similar in form to other versions of the dream, that I can run through it on autopilot.
Like now.
I've dodged through the traps, traversed the maze, and finally reached the door.
Moving up the dimly lit steps, I have plenty of time to admire the dark wood and the iron framing it in the stone wall.
The gargoyle knocker fits in my hand like a well-loved brush by now, its every curve familiar to me.
I bang the knocker against the door once. Twice.
On the third knock, I let go and step back as the door swings toward me.
The light is blinding, my eyes watering as I strain to see something. Anything.
I wait for the bolt of magic to sear a path through my heart.
But instead of a bolt, there's a shadow.
"I am tired of going through this routine every night," a voice groans as the shadow solidifies into the form of a girl. As I squint at her, she glares and folds her arms. "So. Out with it. What do you want, hero?"
I step through the doorway, rubbing my chest as the urgent feeling fades. "I don't know. Usually I get shot with a bolt of magic and wake up by now."
The girl takes a step back as she laughs. "Wake up? This isn't some dream. Though how you keep surviving a my attacks unscathed is an answer I'd really like to have."
I frown at her. "Of course this is a dream. It's always been a dream."
Hasn't it?
No, it has to be a dream. I couldn't actually travel to some weird fantasy-land just to painfully die each night when I fall asleep.
"I don't know about your dreams, but in mine, I don't annoyingly show up from within the dungeon every night just to stand outside the door and patiently wait for someone to zap me through the heart." The girl shook her head as she sat down at a simple wooden table. "That'd be a painfully boring dream."
"Well, I don't just show up outside the door." I said, shifted my feet. I didn't want to sit and get comfortable, since the dream should have ended by now. But I was tired from dodging traps. "I usually have to go through traps and other stuff first."
The girl laughed. "What else would you expect from the dungeon?"
For it to be a dream. That's what it had always been, right?
Wasn't that what this was now?
What would I do if this wasn't a dream?
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