Page 58 of See You in Your Dreams

Once upon a time, I’d exerted control over this sea of dreams as easily as breathing.

Closing my eyes, I picture Greta, my vision of her flickering between the healthy girl I remember from school and the broken shell of her I’d seen in the hospital. Acting on instinct, I try to extend my mind out to her, linking my thoughts with her own.

Nothing happens. No matter how hard I strain, the swirling colors remain unchanged. Perhaps she doesn’t dream after all. Or perhaps we simply don’t have a strong enough connection.

Even as a kid, I’d never attempted to link my dreams with anyone except my parents, and more recently, I’d done it only with Harvey and Dylan who’d both been in the same room as me. Visiting Greta in her dreams from here might simply be beyond my abilities.

How did you used to connect with Mom and Dad?

It’s a good question. I’ve spent so many years attempting to suppress those memories that it’s difficult for me to draw them to the surface. Sometimes, I’d drift asleep and find myself right away within one of their dreams. Other times, however, it took more work. I remember reaching out and…

Reliving the vague memory, I dip my hand into the swirling colors once more, scooping up a blotch of oranges and yellows. Rather than letting the colors drop, however, I imbue them with meaning, feeding them my vision of Greta.

The oranges and yellows coalesce, thickening and expanding outward until they form a hole of inky blackness amid the broader whirlpool. I reach out a trembling hand and brush myfingertips against the darkness. Its surface is smooth and soft as velvet.

In the blink of an eye, the dreamscape vanishes, replaced by an unfamiliar hilltop beneath a bright blue sky. Long grass waves in a gentle breeze. Trees stretch below in a sea of green, broken only by a thin trail. Rolling mountains loom in the distance, shrouded in mist.

It’s easily the most spectacular view I’ve ever seen.

A solitary figure stands staring out over the sprawling vista. Grass swishes underfoot as I approach her, halting at her side. I swallow the lump in my throat, keeping my gaze straight ahead.

“Hello, Greta,” I say.

She doesn’t reply. Marshalling my courage, I glance over. Her face appears peaceful, her blue eyes gleaming while a serene smile graces her lips. Still, a surge of disappointment engulfs me. There’s no hint of recognition on her face, no sign she even heard me.

Forcing back my despair, I try again. “It’s me. Ash. Do you…do you know where you are?”

Still no response. She simply continues to stare out over the sweeping vista.

My heart sinks as I face back forward. “It’s beautiful here.” I wonder fleetingly wherehereis—if this is someplace Greta actually visited in real life or just a pleasant dream her slumbering brain had conjured.

I trace the treeline with my eyes, noticing only then the hints of red and yellow mixed in with the green as the leaves prepare to change. Had that detail been there before, or had my own impressions influenced it without me even realizing it?

I clench my jaw, an awful helplessness gripping me. I’m so far out of my depth here that I’m not even sure where to begin. Do I dare risk altering Greta’s dream? That had been my original plan to help her wake up, but I’d also assumed I’d be able to talk toher first. What if changing too much against her will only sends her retreating deeper into her coma?

Dylan’s previous words echo back to me, and I steady myself. After all this effort to reach her, I’ve got to at leasttryto help. I focus on the dreamscape, attempting to alter it or seize control. The beautiful vista wavers like the rippling surface of a pond before steadying.

I scour the landscape for any changes. Greta herself appears exactly the same, unaffected by my efforts. I squint at the jagged mountains on the horizon. Had they always been so tall?

Gritting my teeth, I try again and again, but my power can’t seem to find anything to grasp onto.Or perhaps you’re just utterly inept at wielding it.No matter my efforts or how hard I focus, it remains the same unchanging scene.

I’m not sure how long passes before I finally give up, panting from the exertion as pain spikes through my skull. This might all be a dream, but that doesn’t make the mental energy I’ve expended any less real.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I say, staring down at the swaying grass. “I thought if I found you, the solution would come to me. But I’m more confused than ever.”

The light breeze carries my words away as I turn to face Greta. Her smile that had seemed so serene when I first found her now strikes me as lifeless as a wax sculpture. Like there’s nothing left but an empty husk of the person she used to be. Perhaps that’s the truth. Still, I force the words out.

“I…I’m sorry. For being such an asshole to you. For…for being such a lousy friend. I just wish I knew how to help you. God, it isn’tfair!”

That last bit turns into a scream, laced with all my helpless frustration. My eyes widen when the world around me wavers. Greta stumbles, and without thinking, I reach out, catching her. She grips my arm to keep her balance.

Shock fills me as she slowly tilts her head to regard me. “G-Greta?” I whisper, my voice wavering.

Her smile widens a fraction of an inch while a single tear glides down her cheek. I watch numbly as she straightens, resuming her former position. The dream stabilizes, its trembling subsiding. All is exactly as it was—all except for the wet trail glistening on Greta’s cheek.

Resolve firms my gut. So, her dream isn’t quite so immutable after all. It simply requires the right touch…along with an appropriate amount of force. At the moment, I may lack the strength to meaningfully alter it. But that doesn’t mean I always will.

“I don’t know if you can hear me,” I say to Greta. “But if you can, I swear that I’ll come back for you. I won’t leave you here to suffer alone.”