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"THE DAYDREAMER PROJECT"
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There once lived a girl who could see the dreams that other people dreamed in their heads at night.

Though this gift was a very special one, she much preferred to stay within her own dreams when she slept.

Because the girl had learned - as all children sadly do - that the world is not always very nice and people are not always very kind, she had made the decision at a very young age that she did not want to know all those nasty things that lurked within the thoughts of those around her. Instead, she made a place inside her head where she could go when she wanted the world to feel a bit more pleasant.

The girl spent many hours of her youth inside that special place. Her parents suspected it was something she would soon 'grow out' of - but the world did not become any nicer, nor the people in it any kinder, as the little girl grew. In fact, by the time the girl was a young woman it oftentimes seemed to her that the opposite proved true.

And so that special place remained, atop the highest peaks in the land of dreams, waiting for her mind to drift there when she needed to pay a visit.

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PROLOGUE: PERCHANCE, TWO DREAMS?

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"Lynette," Professor Goodnight coos, "Look up at me."



You rise to the dim glow of candlelight, but your vision has already adjusted.



"Oh...? Here, again?"



Professor Goodnight tilts his head curiously. He does not blink, and he does not break eye contact.
"Your behavior lately has been worrying the others. I don't mean to impose but... you haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

You barely have a chance to open your mouth again before he cuts you off.

"Oh, no, no - wait, no need for us to rush this. Get up. Stretch your legs. Go for a walk, if you need to. I'll be here to talk about it when you're ready."



You rise, steadily, to your feet, bracing yourself against the table just to be safe.

The rules of this place have a tendency to change a bit between visits.

Sometimes the whole tower will shift beyond recognition, save the few rooms that are always right where you need them to be. It would be impolite to keep Professor Goodnight waiting for too long, but it might be worth taking a bit of time to look about and orient yourself if you're going to spend another night here.



To your relief, up is still up and down is still down as far as you can tell. With your first steps away from the table you find gravity to be working as it's supposed to - in this room, at least.

Professor Goodnight looks watches quietly as you step in the direction of the window.



High above the clouds, the only thing that greets you from this direction is Dreamland's lonely moon. Everything else - that is to say, whatever else is down there - rests countless miles below.

"Take your time," you hear Professor Goodnght say. "We're safe. Whatever's been bothering you can't find you up here."

What do you do?

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(06-14-2017, 09:32 PM)Zephyr Nepres Wrote: »> Drink some imaginary orange juice and gaze at the moon.

There is a brief moment wherein you try to soak in the scene beyond the window and clear your head of your worries in the waking world. Your feel a flicker of an image in the back of your head - an impression of yourself enjoying a view as one stereotypically goes about stargazing, complete with a little beverage in your hand. Maybe sparkling water, or some kind of juice; the impression of the scene lingers longer than your attention to the moon itself, but nothing changes in your immediate environment.

You haven't been able to change things around here on your own for a very long time. That's Professor Goodnight's job.

"Care for something to drink?" He says, tilting his head up in your direction.

"Oh no," you insist, trying to be courteous. "I'm actually just thinking-"



But it's too late. The juice has already manifested in your hands. Your courtesy holds no power here.

You realize this is a quiet reminder from the Professor that there's no point in trying to keep secrets here. He knows everything you do here, and understands everything you're thinking.

(06-15-2017, 09:34 AM)ProfessorLizzard Wrote: »>Lets not dawdle, lets get down to business

You sigh, stepping back towards the table.

Professor Goodnight beckons you with a finger.
"So, then?"

Your thoughts turn from the safety of your dream sanctum to the day ahead of you. You'll be starting with your very first job soon - an internship with The Daydreamer Project.
"I've been worried about work," you confess. "This is going to be the first time since Middle School I'll know I'm dreaming but still leave our tower. Are you sure you can't come with me?"



"Oh, harumph and phooey!" Professor Goodnight slouches back into his chair with a huff. "This is exactly why we've all been so skeptical of this... 'job' business of yours. You and I both know I can't leave this tower without 'you-know-what' coming with me."

There is an uncomfortable silence. His eyes narrow.

"Lynette, dear... what does your nightmare look like, these days?"

You clear your throat. Not in the deliberate, 'ahem' sort of way that people who think they have something important to say often do before speaking, but as a way to buy yourself another second while fumbling over the right words in your head.

You finally settle on, "Do you remember the cat?"

"Of course I remember the cat," he replies. "It's still that dreadful cat?"

"Yeah-" You stop yourself. "Well, no. I mean..."
And then you take a deep breath and sit back down, because the answer is a lot more complicated than either of those responses.



"It's still waiting for me when I end up in its room instead of yours. And, yeah, it still looks like a cat. But... that's the thing. It's not the same cat you're thinking of, all chewed up and toothy. It's just a cat.

It's gotten so sluggish lately. Lazy, even. He doesn't chase me anymore, just stalks and taunts me in the dark. He's been more rude than terrifying, to be frank.

I feel like I should be happy about that, you know? But something about watching it sulk around in the corner of the room like that, it's... unnerving. I think...



"...I think it creeps me out, because I know that it's still watching us. I know it's still trying to get in here. But I can't imagine what it would do anymore if it did - or if it even knows, itself.

What does that mean, Professor? Have I just finally outgrown it? Or is my own nightmare bored of me? It's like... it's like..."



"Lynette." Professor Goodnight leans in against the table and raises his voice, cutting you off. "You're overthinking this matter, my dear. It sounds to me that the old tyrant is running out of material - that can only be a good thing. We have enough candle-wax that you should never be afraid of it getting up here, regardless."

"I suppose," you reply, trying your best to let his words reassure you that everything will be fine. "Thank you, Professor."

Professor Goodnight gives you a stern nod. "Of course, dear. And speaking of candle-wax, we'll need to make you your own candle before you leave. If you're truly so insistent on this 'job' ordeal, you must take one of my candles with you into the lands outside."



You look down at the candle sitting in the middle of the table. For as long as you can remember, Professor Goodnight's special candles have protected you and all your friends in this place from the influence of your nightmare.

It would be a remarkibly versatile tool to have with you at work. The candle's light exposes hiding nightmares, its heat repulses them, and its wax can be used to close up the rips that nightmares make to dig their way into good dreams.

How does Professor Goodnight make these things, again?
You've heard the story countless times at this point, but you're always forgetting a few details.

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That's right, that's right. It's been a while since the Professor made new candles,
but he always said they were made of your convictions and your good memories.

Conviction is the foundation: nightmares are at their most dangerous when you think they're real, so the candles need to smell like something that's really real. In those desperate moments where what exists and what doesn't blur, you need to be able to compare what happens in Dreamland against the things you know can or can't happen in the waking world.

So the candle starts with an immutable truth: Your name is Lynette Fairfield. You are twenty-two years old. You just graduated college, and your first day at work will go great, and absolutely nothing will go wrong.
Okay, okay, maybe getting ahead of yourself with that last one.

But you also need a whiff of nostalgia in there - when the nightmares are around, the candle needs to glow with the warmth of a truly happy thought. You want the candle you take to work to be a strong one.

You think of a moment in your childhood when you were completely, fully, truly happy...
What was it?
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"Heh."

Nostalgia is a pleasant smell. One of your favorites, in fact. It hits you strong, like a new set of markers.

Your mind catches on a warm, passing memory - the late hours of a sleepover, huddled inside a fort of pillows and blankets with your best friend from middle school. It was a time in your life when things like pillow forts and imaginary friends didn't interest many of the others, but you were lucky enough to have found someone you trusted to listen to all the things you wanted to talk about without judging.

For the longest time, you'd thought Professor Goodnight was the only one.



You hear Professor Goodnight asking you from across the table, "Is that a pleasant thought, you're having?"

You give a wistful "Mhm-hmm" in reply, glancing back at the Professor.



"Good," he says.

"Show it to me."






















You blink twice, your eyes adjusting in an instant to the sudden difference between the candlelight and the flickering of a television.

You come to the realization that you are now in a very different place.

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