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It was late afternoon and Sophie had recently gotten home from her shift at the Baker's Wife. Her feet ached and her knees were weak as she collapsed onto the sofa in the living room of the tiny apartment she called home. It had barely been a year since she moved out on her own and she still has yet to feel no longer uneasy by the silence of an almost entirely empty room.

Today was a fairly busy day at the bakery with the new rush of tourists pouring into town with the coming of Spring Break. With all that hustling and bustling and running around, a slight dampness of sweat beaded on her brow; only adding onto her exhaustion and by the time she had been given the "OK" to leave, she was practically limping with every step. She didn't mind having the extra bit of business as it helped the day but... She doesn't appreciate being swamped by dozens of people at once when she is the only person, aside from the manager, on staff.

Sophie blinked slowly and sighed softly as a checked her notifications on her phone as if she had been expecting a text from someone. But of course, no new texts, just some notifications on social media and her YouTube subscriptions. She would get to those later she supposed as she placed her phone on a nearby coffee table closed her eyes.

A sudden drowsiness washed over her and soon Sophie was fast asleep.

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Darkness... Sophie was floating in an inescapable, cold, drowning darkness. A darkness that could crush one's very soul. This is what her dreams have been like for what felt like decades, even though it's probably been only just a few. However, this time.... It was different somehow... Different enough to make everything change and break the cycle.

Sophie slowly opened her eyes and extended her legs, touching down to what only could be assumed as the ground. As soon as she did so, a light shot through the ground and gravity instantly pulled her down by her legs, causing her to stagger then collapse all together. She was clad in a flowing white sundress as she found herself in an empty, grassy field and a clear blue sky with white fluffy clouds hanging overhead. A warm breeze that foretold a coming spring caught her hair, gently making it flow in a careless manner. "What...? What is this place...?" Her gentle, warm voice murmered softly.

The world Sophie now resided in was completely empty of all things, all sounds, and all beings except for her, the hanging sky above her head, and the lush grassy plain beneath her feet. There was a sweet, flowery scent that lingered in the breeze, that was both vaguely familiar yet all to foreign to her. She supposed it were wild flowers, however, only grass could be seen on an ever stretching horizon in every direction. How peculiar... The scent of flowers in a place where all flowers refused to grow. A most peculiar world Sophie found herself, indeed.

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The door to his apartment was getting stickier everyday. Alan sighed and pressed his shoulder against it, leaning into the moldering wood for a few seconds before it finally popped open, hinges squealing in protest. He stepped inside and fumbled for the lightswitch a moment, before his apartment was illuminated in all of its decrepit glory. Chipped paint, mold on the walls, vermin - this place had it all.

There was a note on the table, written in his roommate's distinctive chickenscratch. Date tonight after work - don't wait up for me. Wish your boy luck! Alan rolled his eyes and set the note back down, wondering not for the first time where Peter found this seemingly bottomless supply of women. Artists.

To say that Alan had had a rough day at work would be an understatement - some sort of biblical plague was sweeping Madison High's english department, so it had been all hands on deck for the substitutes today. Worse, because literature was his 'area of expertise', he couldn't just put on an episode of 'Bill Nye' like if he'd been subbing for a science class; the school board had actually expected him to do something, and so he'd spent all day bouncing between classes, trying to pick up lesson plans for Harper Lee, Wordsworth, Fitzgerald, all while a parade of street-tough high school students did their level best to sabotage the panicky sub.

All the minor failings of the day were still buzzing in his head when he sat down on the stained couch, all the 'should-have-saids' and 'would-have-dones'. Alan closed his eyes and leaned back on the sofa, and after a few moments of drifting he found himself someplace new.

Before he even opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the smell of the sea, pure and clean. A gentle breeze blew against his face and the blackness was replaced by a clear sky, blue and orange from the sunset. He was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the gentle waves lapping at the rocks some distance below him, the yellow sun hanging low on the horizon. For a moment he was transfixed, and found that he could not look away.

When he finally managed to rest his gaze away from the sunset, he turned to see something stranger still. Behind him was a rolling, enormous field of grass - yet patches of the grass were darker than others, in a bizarrely formulaic and familiar pattern. Sixteen statues were at his side, ranging from five to three feet tall - intricately detailed nautical figures. There were eight ships, two lighthouses, two seahorses, two fishermen, a captain and a mermaid, all hewn from the whitest marble he had ever seen.

A chessboard. He was standing on a chessboard. In the distance, parallel to the cliff's edge, the opposite number of his pieces were arrayed, black as obsidian and still as stone. Alan furrowed his brow and disturbed the silence with a single sentence. "Pawn to E4."

Slowly, the figure of the ship in front of the captain slid forward across the grass, taking up its new position on the grass board. This was shaping up to be a very interesting dream.

A giggle erupted from painted blood red lips as long legs stumbled along the sidewalk, often missing the confines of the path. The young woman with the bouncing orange waves giggled once more the sound piercing the silence of the dark and otherwise quiet streets as she brought a half-full tequila bottle leftover from the wild night to her lips. The party had left no overnight lovers and with it avoiding the awkward next morning that came with it or, as Emily most commonly did if she wasn't too hungover, an early morning departure, leaving her one night stand short of money or a valuable item. Eventually she came to her small dodgy apartment in the 'slums' of Ann Arbour. She placed the tequila bottle next to the door, failing to do so upright she did so side on, small bits of tequlia leaking from the bottle until there was not enough of the liquor to reach the bottle's brim. She fumbled in her pocket pulling out it'a contents, some cash, her fake ID (it had been a house party but you never know where you might end up) and the key to the house. After a few lousy attempts between chuckles at her failures she was able to unlock the door. She placed her items into her pocket before swiping up her beloved tequila before swinging open the door and yelling "IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'M HOOOOOOOOOOOOME," into the person-less wreck that was her home. Her words slurred as she stumbled into the house, closing the door behind her.

Upon her entrance Fido, her excitable Pitbull Terrier who was more than used to his owner's late night stumblings into the house, awoke from his light sleep and in minutes was racing to meet her. "Shush you silly dog!" Emily giggles, bending over to pet the dog before taking another swig of tequila. After doing so Emily makes her way to her bed, Fido a her heels, and, after placing her tequila on the floor, slips into the covers. Only moments late she falls asleep.



A gentle cold breeze and the scent of various types of liquor were the first to engage Emily's senses. Why were her dreams so strong? So distinct? Probably all the boozes. Emily's sight finally no longer failing her, or dream-Emily at least, led to the young adult's brown eyes scanning the area. Cups and empty bottles were strewn across the... what was she on? A platform of some sort? She walked close to the edge to soon release she was on the flat of a building, an apartment complex to be more precise. A gentle wind played with Emily's ginger hair as she stood toward the edge of the building, here arms folded in an attempt to keep out the cold.

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Today was a slow day. Hell, everyday in the small Ann Arbor library was a slow day, the only visitors being the occasional school student looking to use the computer. In this day and age of technology, it seemed as though very few people had as deep of an appreciation for books as Laketta did. With all of these computers and cell phones, it was as if books had been left out to dry, simply tossed aside in order to make room for the digital copies. "Do kids even read anymore?" Laketta wondered from behind the main desk as she watched a young boy make his way from the computer area to the front doors. The boy had been in the library for about an hour or two, researching for his English paper. Laketta had offered the young man a few books to help him along, but he'd left them on the desk, unmoved. As soon as the boy stepped foot on the concrete outside, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and Laketta sighed. "No."

Since the boy had been the first and possibly last person to enter the library for the afternoon, Laketta decided to take this time to have her lunch break; lunch break, meaning that she'd curl up on one of the bean bag chairs in the children's section with a McDonald's apple pie and finish reading The Color Purple. It wasn't until she'd plopped down in the seat, however, that she realized just how tired she was. One of her singing gigs had run a bit later than expected the night before, resulting in her not getting back home until two in the morning, four hours before she'd have to rise again.

Within minutes of sitting down, Laketta could feel her eyes start to droop and her head tilt to the side. A few moments later, and Laketta lay fast asleep, her book and apple pie untouched.

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Laketta smiled as she took the drink from the handsome Barista, handing him a five dollar bill before turning around. She was then walking along the shoreline, sipping a margarita as the wet sand squished up between her toes and the sun kissed her skin. The majority of Laketta's dreams were like this, all bunched together and illogical. One minute, she was at the local coffee shop ordering her Caramel Frappe, and the next she was at the beach with strong gusts of wind whipping her hair across her face and filling her nostrils with the fresh salt smell of the Atlantic Ocean. Laketta didn't mind, though, as long as she was happy.

That all was about to change, unfortunately. Within a few short seconds, the sky turned dark as storm clouds covered the beautiful sun. The wind, whipping more ferociously than ever, caused Laketta to drop her beverage in the damp sand. "Hey!" Laketta yelled in annoyance, but was immediately silenced by the unsuspecting boom of thunder, and jagged streak of lightning. "Cut it out!" Laketta yelled, putting her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut.

The next time Laketta opened her eyes, she was sitting on a park bench, a chocolate ice cream cone in her hand. It was hard to tell where she was because of the fog, but as far as she could tell, she was all alone. "Strange," Laketta muttered under her breath before tossing the ice cream into the garbage bin beside her. She hated chocolate.

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Another day gone by, the sun setting behind the small red-brick buildings of the small town of Holland with it's last beams of light barely piercing through the blinds of Lou's Vinyl. Dylan was on his way to the place just in time to close the locale and say another routine good night to his boss and best friend, Lou. He took one more hit from his cigaratte before throwing it aside just in time to enter the store. His hand firmly grasped around the door's handle pulled it downwards and pushed the large glass barrier encased in iron.

As he put his first foot inside the shop an endearing bell sound went off right above him, a small copper alarm device Lou put up to know when someone gets inside his little disc store. He closed the door behind him with one hand, while the other one brushed against his hair strands, pushing his thick black hair aside. The place was fairly empty with slightly dimmed lighting, one bulb sporadically flickering in the background while an older man was casually brushing the floor few feet away. Lou looked up, his right hand still holding the brush while he swiped his sweaty forehead with the left one: "Thought you said you fixed the lightbulb", insinuating at the one flickering in the back. "Oh, yeah." - Dylan responded, not flinching for a second, slowly walking over to the older gentleman, reaching out his right hand as in to take the brush from him: "I thought I did."

Lou just gave him a smirk as he left the stick in the boy's hands to continue the work. "Finish up here and get to bed. We got a lot to do tomorrow." - Lou continued as he made his way towards the storage to leave his working hat: "We have a delivery coming in."

"The new CDs I told you about?" - Dylan inquired while leisurely brushing away the dirt off the white tiles that were laid around the shop.
"Yup, those." - Lou continued as he now strolled towards the doors.
"I'm telling you, those will sell a lot more than this crap." - as he pointed around the vinyl disks, Lou's favorite.
"Hey, we may be close but you don't get to disrespect Righteous Brothers." - the veteran exclaimed in a serious manner, but gave a small grin at the end just to make Dylan sure he was kidding. The boy smiled back as he continued swabbing: "Good night, Lou."

"Good night, kiddo."

The doors closed, the night finally arrived and Dylan finished up. He left the broom in the back, went back to the door and turned the sign on them so that the "Closed" side was facing the outside and promptly locked them while pulling down the small curtain fixed just above the glass. He then turned the lights off and slowly made his way back to his room where his loyal friend Miles was. The small pup hastily jumped off the bed and onto Dylan's legs. He gave the dog a quick rub on the head and then took his clothes off, set up the alarm clock lying just next to his bed and laid down. With both hands tucked under his resting head and Miles curled up between his legs he quickly fell asleep, tired from another long day.

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Not much longer after closing his eyes, Dylan found himself deep in a dream. However this was no ordinary dream as he realized. At first he thought it was another one of those dreams where you become aware of it, but this felt a little different. Not only did it appear to be very convenient to do whatever he wanted to, he realized it felt too real to be a dream and it scared him a bit. It was a dark space with a light breeze that gently caressed his skin. It wasn't necessarily dark, just void of any content as it seemed, because he could quite vividly see himself, despite no apparent light source present. It was disturbingly realistic yet clearly unreal. He felt a little anxious to be experiencing something like this and was unusure how to snap out of it. Not much longer, from this vast void that stretched in all directions into the unknown, an eerie echo suddenly announced itself: "What...? What is this place...?"
Despite all his instincts going against it, he decided to head in it's direction regardless.

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"Come on kid, speed it up!"

The hoarse words pounded in Danny's ears as his hands flew in front of him, smacking the heavy bag in front of him in a rapid rhythm. Sweat poured down the young man's face and his breath tore through his nostrils, his whole world contained in three feet - his hands, his stance, the bag, and the old man shouting at him from behind it.

"Speed it up speed it up let's go let's go!" Coach Alex screamed, his face red. Danny increased the pace, scraping the bottom of his body for new reserves of strength, until a sharp ringing split the air after what seemed like an eternity. At the sound of the alarm Danny slumped back, arms aching, body drenched in sweat. The coach clapped him on the shoulder and smiled. "You're getting there, kid."

"Thank you, Coach," Danny answered, turning around to where he'd left his water bottle. "I learned from the best." He glanced down at his wrist before remembering that he had, rather sensibly, not worn his watch to boxing practice. "How long we been at it, Coach?"

"Don't you start ass-kissing," Coach Alex shot back and checked his phone. "Four hours. Tell you what, take ten, then we'll come back and finish up and you can get home to Mom and Dad." The fact that Danny lived with his parents was a favorite subject of mockery for the old man, but Danny knew that it was just part of his drill-sergeant style of teaching; the sixty-seven year old chainsmoker was actually a really nice guy, underneath it all.

He nodded in appreciation of the break and shuffled over to one of the folding chairs in the gym as the coach stalked off to yell at one of his other students. As soon as his butt hit the chair he became acutely aware of how exhausted he was, and before he knew it his eyes were closing.

The scent of stale booze filled his nostrils and Danny grimaced - he wasn't fond of even the best quality alcohol, and whatever this was was clearly past its prime. He opened his eyes to behold a city skyline, the sky the familiar smoggy orange of sunrise. His workout clothes were gone, replaced by a tank-top and flannel jacket of the kind that he was accustomed to wearing. At his feet there lay a pile of empty bottles and red solo cups, and more were strewn all over the fashionable decor and tasteful furniture; it seemed that this rooftop had been host to quite a wild party, and someone had clearly forgotten to clean up after themselves.

However, none of this was terribly interesting to him, not compared to the silhouette sharing the rooftop with him. It was a woman, pale and ginger, her back to him as she peered off the rooftop; she seemed important, but he knew that he had never seen her before. In a haze, Danny approached her. "Hey," he called out, "Do you know where we are?"

Interacting with: Danny Walker @Sisyphus

Emily stood at the edge of the building watching the glorious sunrise. An orange creeped over the dim sky followed by the gorgeous painting of colour to follow. Orange, pink, purple and blue. Emily rarely saw the morning sunrise. She was usually hungover in the morning or, on occasions, still asleep. Her grand escapes from her one night's stand's house usually ended up taking place not far after the sun's spectacular display announcing it's arrival. Emily figured if the sun was a person he'd be an egotistical asshole. She'd hit that.

The breeze mixed with the smell Emily knew much too well- stale booze after a fun night. The combination of these scents felt almost homely; reminiscent of late nights partying and drinking. Nights resulting in not-so-shameful walks of shame and/or the pounding headache in the morning she was all-to-familiar with. The air was, a bit nippy. Emily reckoned her dream self must have been too stupid to remember a jacket. Or was dream-Emily thinking dream-Emily was stupid? One of the other. Instead she wore a singlet top and jeans, her leather jacket not in site, nor denim one. She looked at distant rising sun and wished it would rise faster to warm the place, alas, that was not how a sunrise worked, even in her dreamworld it seemed.

It wasn't long until a voice called out to her. Emily turned to see a man, tall with brown skin. Oh, was this the part where they'd go downstairs and screw? Perhaps dream-Emily was smarter than Emily thought she was. The look on his face, however, told her otherwise. She just gave him a smirk, thinking of what could have been if this dream went her way. "In a freaking rainforest." She replies sarcastically, "You're not as stupid as you think you look, sweetie. Or I hope so at least. This sanctuary doesn't need more stupid," Emily had never met this man before, she knew that, but there was a nagging feeling surfacing from the back of her mind. This man was important to her. Good, all the more fun to tease.

In the distance she spots a half full bottle of Tequila, laying on the ground near on of the soiled outdoor sofas. Emily leaves her post momentarily to snag the bottle and takes a swig from it as she returned to her position. Well, if she wasn't going to bang anyone in this dream she might as well drink.

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On a fundamental level, Mark knew full well that he was willingly submitting himself to the self-fulfilling prophecy that embodied his coffee addiction. The crashes that inevitably followed the caffeine highs were always brutal, but there was something oddly habit forming about that fact which kept him going back to the stuff every day. So here he was, failing to stifle a yawn as he opened the door to his apartment, having just gotten back from his shift at Literati Coffee. It had been a busy day, but Mark preferred it that way as he hated just standing around with little to do and nobody to talk to.

”I’m home,” he announced to his empty apartment, kicking his shoes off rather unceremoniously. Another yawn escaped the young man, evidence of both the lack of caffeine coursing through his system and the rather late night he had subjected himself to.

”Coffee, coffee, coffee,” Mark chanted, almost ritualistically, as he trudged his way across his studio apartment, making a beeline for his ever reliable addiction satisfier. It only took a few quick button presses for it to make those ever so sweet bubbling noises that promised that he would soon get his fix. He still had to show up to his bartending shift in a few hours, so a nap was unfortunately out of the question. And given how strange his dreams had been lately, coffee was an even more attractive alternative.

While he waited, Mark decided to plop down on his couch and turn on his TV, doing his best to keep his droopy eyes open. ”Oh, this is bad,” he muttered to himself, feeling the pull of sleep weighing on him even heavier now that he was getting comfortable.

”You will not lay down,” he commanded himself, even though his body was already in the process of shifting its position to do just that.

”You will not close your eyes,” he demanded with all the authority of an elementary school teacher that had lost control of his classroom. Needless to say, his eyes had already been closed before he spoke.

”You will not…” this time his body beat him to the punch and disobeyed him before he could even get his plea out. Before he knew what happened, he was already drifting off.

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There was something quite disheartening about finding himself behind the familiar wooden counter of Literati Coffee after having just left it. Not to mention he wasn’t a huge fan of the fact that even in his dreams he seemed to be doomed to work. Besides the cozy atmosphere the shop provided, Mark seemed to be trapped with a number of his regulars that he easily recognized. Well, that was of course except for her. At just a glance he knew that he had never seen her before, but there was something about the confident way she carried herself that caused him to be drawn to her. Barely a word was exchanged between the two as she paid for her Caramel Frappe, and before he knew it she was already leaving.

As the door jingled to announce her departure, everything around him evaporated in the blink of an eye, leaving him alone in a vast expanse of sheer white. Yeah, maybe calling these dreams weird was putting it lightly. Mark could only shrug at the thought, so with his hands in his pockets he started to stroll through the great emptiness, whistling along to a song that Emily had shown him. A more introspective mind would have tried to look at what kind of implications such an empty dreamscape might suggest about a person, but Mark was happy enough to turn his nose up to such a notion and continue walking on in peace.

A playful fog rolled in and before he knew it, Mark’s stroll had taken him into a park of sorts. As he followed the path, he noticed a park bench coming up, which caused his whistling to die rather unceremoniously in his throat. Well, more specifically it was the person sitting at the bench, but you get the point. And as he got closer, he got a good view of the same girl that had caught his attention in the dream version of Literati dumping an untouched ice cream cone into the trash. An odd assortment of feelings washed over him as he drew closer to her, most of which he didn’t feel like categorizing at this exact moment. For now, he just wanted to see why he seemed so drawn in by her.

”You know,” he said as he peered into the trashcan, almost feeling sorry for the poor frozen treat, ”I won’t judge you for wasting food as I’m not a huge fan of sweets myself, but I can’t help but ask why did you buy it in the first place if you didn’t want it?” he asked her playfully, leveling his amused expression at her.

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@mskennedy615

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Laketta sighed and turned over in the bean bag chair, burying herself deeper into the folds. Not too much time had gone by since she'd fallen asleep, and she knew that she'd eventually have to leave the strangely comfortable chair and head back to work. Nonetheless, Laketta remained fast asleep, her breathing deep and even, and a gentle snuffling of air blowing through her nose. It wouldn't be long before she would begin snoring, a small dribble of drool sliding down the side of her mouth. She didn't even hear when her boss, Mrs. Gran, burst through the library doors and noisily made her way to her office to put away her things. She didn't move a muscle when the elderly woman peered into the children's isle, laughing to herself after seeing Laketta's still body in the beanbag chair. Gran just smiled and shook her head at the young lady before returning to her office to handle library business. She'd let her get her rest. For now, at least.

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At the sound of a voice speaking from behind, Laketta practically leaped out of her seat, a startled noise escaping from her lips. "Holy shit," she exclaimed, her bewildered expression adjusting into a broad smile once her eyes settled on the oddly familiar young man, "you really shouldn't sneak up on people like that, dude." Laketta chuckled and playfully rolled her eyes. "And I'm not entirely sure why I even had it," she said with an honest shrug of her shoulders, "Chocolate is awful, so I tossed it out."

As Laketta settled back into her seat, she took another long glance at the young man, her eyebrow raised. More often than not, Laketta was alone in her dreams, the only exceptions being a few "background characters" that seemed to fit into the scene she was in, and a few people from her past. The background characters, of course, never really spoke to her like this man did, and she was very sure that he wasn't someone from her past. Yet, there he was, a familiar young man that for some weird reason, she was drawn to. This dream was getting stranger by the second, and Laketta was unsure of how to feel, but after another second of unashamed staring, it all seemed to finally click in Laketta's head.

"Hey, I know you," she said with a snap of her fingers, "you're the barista from that coffee shop." She finished her sentence with a slight nod of her head, memories from her previous dream quickly flooding back into her mind. "I gotta hand it to you, man. You make a pretty bangin' Caramel Frappe." As she spoke, she slid over to make room on the bench, confidently holding her hand out towards the man. "Laketta."