Dreamcatcher (ONC 2020)

2

"No," I say immediately. "That isn't possible."

"Really." Liam raises a skeptical eyebrow. "It's not? You're telling me that you can give me the memory of committing suicide, but not the memory of catching a dream?"

I groan, pinching the skin between my eyebrows. "That's different. Dreams are manipulations of memories. That suicide nightmare was based off a suicide attempt. In order for you to dream about something, it either has to relate to something in your life or be something stupidly cliché—like flying. People don't just dream about taking other people's dreams. "

"You're taking this a bit too literally," Liam points out. I shoot a glare at him. "I mean... There are other ways to obtain memories, rather than just catching them."

It takes me a few seconds to get it, and when I do, I can practically hear the sound of my jaw hitting the floor. What a stupidly simple way to look at things. "Oh, God," I say. This kid is out of his mind, I swear. "No. No no no no no. Absolutely not."

"Absolutely, yes." Liam grins. "Take me dreamcatching, Dakota."

✺✺✺

"Out!" I yell, pulling the door open and shoving Liam through it. "The sun is gone; I'm SO SORRY, but we are CLOSED now. BYE!"

"Hey, wait!" Liam protests, but I slam the door in his face. To my dismay, his foot slips into the space between the door and the wall at the last second, and the door bounces back open.

"Damn it," I mutter, while Liam cries out in pain. I grab the door again, ready to slam it shut with such force that neither Liam's foot nor anything will stop it from closing, but Liam weakly raises his hand again. There's something unusually serious about his expression, so I stop.

"Fine," I say, keeping my hand firmly glued on to the door so that I can slam it at any moment. "What do you want?"

"Listen," he says, digging through his jeans' pocket. I tap my foot impatiently. "Please, Dakota. Just take me dreamcatching once. Once. Look, here's what I'll give you."

Liam takes out a piece of paper. It's folded into a neat square, surprisingly. He unfolds it and holds it in front of him for me to see, and if I were drinking water, I would've spit it all over his face.

"Two thousand?" I sputter. "Where in the entire hell did you get two freaking grand?"

Liam folds the check again and puts it back into his pocket. "So, yeah, I'll be back tomorrow," he says nonchalantly. "I'll see you then!" He turns around and walks down the hall with both of his hands in his pockets and heads to the elevator. Within seconds, the doors open and he steps inside—and with that, he's gone.

I stand in front of the open door, half fuming and half shocked. After a few beats, I close it gently. Two thousand dollars. There is no way Liam has two thousand dollars. What's next—I look out the window and there are dogs flying around the skyscrapers? I've obviously gone mad.

Well, it doesn't matter. Like all problems, this one will probably leave if I stay away from it long enough.

I decide to tidy up the shop—or the front of it, at least. Despite being considerably less horrendous than the back, it's still pretty damn messy, so I spend about two hours making everything look presentable. Bailee passes by me every now and then, begging me with big, black eyes to go on a walk. I try my best to suffocate my inner human feelings and continue to clean up, because who the hell put freaking gum on my polaroid cameras?

Bailee pads over as I'm doing a final sweep of the shop and sits down in front of me. She gives me the puppy eyes treatment again, and I finally throw aside my broom with a sigh. "Okay, fine. Let's go on a walk."