Just a dream?

“What if you’re not dreaming?”

Martin was watching the rain drops streaking down the window. The watery paths warped the view of the greenery outside. A fitting metaphor, he thought, but the reason escaped him. For a moment, he wondered where he was, before noticing the familiar smell of old books and stale coffee.

“I’m…I’m sorry, what did you say?” Martin replied, slowly turning his head towards his faceless therapist. The man wore a yellow sweater, his torso standing out amidst the washed-out browns and black objects in the dimly lit office.

“It’s okay, Martin. I was just asking if you had any big plans for the upcoming week?”

Martin searched his memory. He suspected the question was meant to lead him somewhere. An image of a book cover flashed in his mind. Something about it felt…incomplete…

“Funny you should ask,” Martin replied. “Next week, I’m doing the big reveal of the ending to my book series.” I am? The words leaving his mouth surprised him.

“Ah yes, that’s right! How are you feeling about…”

The sound of his therapist’s voice faded into the background. Martin repeated the words, book series, book series…so I’m an author in this dream. Interesting... He glanced out the window again, seeing a stream of water cascading off the gutters. A feeling of pressure in his bladder caught his attention.

“Ah…sorry to interrupt, but can I use your restroom?” Martin asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Martin. The restroom here is out of service.”

Just as he’d suspected. I’m running out of time.

The city moved outside the car window as the rain streaked horizontally across. Martin smelled the new leather seats and felt the gentle flow of heated air from the side vents near his ankles. He was in the back seat of a large vehicle, probably an SUV, with a faceless driver weaving calmly through the midday traffic. He realized he was speaking to someone, his phone pressed to his ear. He recognized the voice of his agent.

“It needs to happen tomorrow!” Martin demanded, angrily.

“It’s not enough time, the theater is booked and…”

“It’s tomorrow or never! I’m running out of time!” He slammed the phone down to the seat. I shouldn’t have talked to her like that, he thought. She was him, after all. They all were. A manifestation of his consciousness. He resolved to treat them better.

The rain outside turned into a downpour, and the wipers struggled to clear the sheet of water overtaking the windshield. Martin could feel the pressure in his bladder intensifying. He briefly considered peeing in the car but abandoned the idea for fear of the “real” world consequences.

Bright lights blinded Martin. He squinted to see the tv studio set around him. He recognized the familiar sound of the Good Morning, Today theme song in his earpiece. Seated next to him was a faceless blond woman in a blue suit jacket.

"…And we would like to welcome you back on this rainy fall morning! I'm joined now by Martin Revery, bestselling author of the smash-hit, worldwide bestselling book series The Elder Lands Chronicles. Martin, thank you for joining us!”

"Thank you for having me!" Martins stomach ached. The pressure from his bladder made his belt feel like a tourniquet. He shifted in his seat, hoping to relieve the pressure.

"Now, as everyone knows, tomorrow is the big day when you are finally going to reveal the ending of your book series. Quite controversially, when you released the last book in the series nearly a year ago, you did so with the final page of the story missing, with the instructions that the reader go to a website, which has a countdown clock on it. The assumption is that you are going to livestream a reading of the last page when the clock hits zero tomorrow, is that correct?”

"Yes, that's correct. I wanted to create a unique environment of shared engagement for the readers, like the tension created by TV series as everyone is waiting for the final episode.”  Hmmm, it’s an intriguing concept, he admitted to himself, but it seems a bit gimmicky.

“Well, I'm a huge fan, so I'll be looking forward to tomorrow like so many others. Thank you again for joining us!"

Martin paced back and forth backstage, trying to distract himself from the discomfort of his bladder. He could hear the chattering and shuffling of the crowd as they took their seats beyond the curtains. This should be interesting, he thought, eager to play out the scene.

“Please welcome to the stage…” The announcers’ voice boomed, followed by the crackle of applause.

Martin sat on a wooden stool at the edge of the stage. The raucous ovation had finally died down to a smattering of lingering claps. He stared at the white envelope in his hand, sealed with a red wax insignia. The symbol was familiar, from the book cover that flashed in his mind before.

“Okay, well, I believe you’ve all waited long enough. How about we conclude the stories of Agatha, Longthorn and the clans of the dark realm!” The crowd erupted into more cheering and applause. Agatha, and who, and the clans of what? Martin was intrigued at what the envelope might hold.

The wax kept a sturdy seal, and when it gave way his finger slid quickly down the envelope’s edge, slicing the skin. He ignored the painful cut and unfolded the paper inside. It was blank.

Martin couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. Of course, he thought.

He started speaking, trusting that his mind would find the words as he went.

“Agatha turned to look back at her clan, gathered in the rocky valley below. Standing high on the overlooking ledge, she heard a piercing sound echoing through the valley. She turned to Longthorn, who stood stoically by her side.”

Martin lost his trail of thought and stopped. In the long pause, he could hear impatient whispers in the audience. An audacious idea crept into his mind. He wanted to do the unthinkable. What better place than a dream than to explore such things? He smiled giddily to himself as he continued.

“The sound grew louder, and Agatha could feel the world around her starting to crumble. The ledge suddenly cracked and gave way, and she and Longthorn were tumbling down to the valley below.”

“She suddenly awoke, covered in sweat, her alarm clock beeping incessantly on the nightstand. She groggily lifted herself up on one arm and slammed her hand down on the snooze button. She rolled over and cuddled against Longthorn, who was snoring peacefully next to her. It was all a dream. The great wars of the Elder Lands. Her journey to becoming the leader of the clans. The sweeping romance with Longthorn. All of it, just a dream…”

The theater was silent. Martin struggled to contain his glee. He bit his tongue to keep from smiling. It was every writer’s guilty fantasy, the idea of pulling off an ending like this.

“What!?” He heard someone shout from the back of the theater.

“No…no…no!” Another person shouted, closer to the stage.

A chorus of polite claps and angry boos started. Even in this dream, he felt a twinge of guilt at what he had done to the audience. He looked forward to analyzing it further when he awoke. His bladder felt ready to explode, surely, he would wake soon.

He felt wetness on his finger and looked down to see a drop of blood pooling in the tiny slit. It surprised him how much it still stung. The thought shook him. It…still…hurts…it can’t be! He slid another finger along the envelope, the cut stinging even more than the first.

Oh god…I’m…I’m not dreaming…

Martin stared out into the theater, the immense darkness suddenly making him feel small and vulnerable.

He stared at the blood sliding down his fingers. His existence rushed back into reality. The memories were all there. The moments of lucidity in his past. The discussions with his therapist, who agreed to pretend that he was part of Martin’s dream when he was having an episode. Derealization Disorder, that is what his therapist called it. How long have I been “dreaming” this time?

The sound from the restless audience snapped Martin back into the moment, as the chorus of boos swelled. He knew he had just destroyed his career, his reputation. There was no coming back from this.

No, he refused to believe that.

Wake up! He pleaded to himself, then out loud.

“Wake up!”

“Please…wake up!”