Twisted Dreams

The Place

It begins when you wake up one morning in a room - a room made of nothingness, only pure and simple emptiness. You awaken on your own two feet, staring at the blank expanse. Startled, you spin around in the blinding void, but see nothing that disrupts the view. Your breathing is ragged as you fruitlessly pick a direction at random and follow it, for just a moment - or a few hours.

"Hello?" Your voice is raw and hoarse, as if you've been yelling at the top of your lungs for a very long time. Only silence answers, patient and hungry. "Where am I?"

"The beginning. The end. The place of all. The place of none." The riddle echoes in your head and all around you, voiceless and silent and deafening.

"Does it have a name?" you ask, ignoring your throat's protests. An itch on your arm begs for your attention; you scratch it absentmindedly.

"You decide. This is anywhere and anything you wish for it to be."

You look around again, but nothing has changed. "Doesn't look like anywhere I've ever been."

"Then change it."

Blinking, you shift your weight from one foot to another. "With my mind?" Again, silence answers you.

Closing your eyes, you cast your mind deep into your memories of places. You pick the first one you can think of: your bedroom. You focus your mind on every detail, from the floor to the bed to the scratches on the wall. When you open your eyes, nothing has changed.

"Your voice is raw - but not useless."

"Oh. I say it aloud." You cough, somewhat painfully. "My room, then?"

Instantly, you find yourself standing in your bedroom. Disoriented, a wave of light headedness washes over you, but quickly fades after a moment as you become accustomed to the familiarity. You breathe in, deeply, only now realizing you had been smelling the complete absence of physical matter; the scent grounds you to your surroundings.

An uncovered window tells you that, although you are in your bedroom, the world outside is still the same void as before. You frown, then turn and open the bedroom door: void. The closet door leads to the same.

"Create your world."

Experimentally, you think about all the things you'd like to change about your room. "Can I have... midnight blue walls?" The walls are now the exact shade you'd been imagining. Now feeling slightly less alone, somehow, you let a small grin spread across your face.

"A loft bed, with bookshelves and a hammock and a reading light and dark velvet curtains?" Your bed is replaced with your inquiry. You step forward, sweeping the soft fabric aside and looking in. A light above the hammock shines, illuminating the rows upon rows of fascinating-looking books, on shelves in the back.

"Black sheets and a matching comforter. A better desk to fit all my art materials. A laptop with good keys for writing stories. A better pot for my aloe. Starry Night by Van Gogh painted on my ceiling. The Last Judgement by Michelangelo on my door."

As all of these requests were fulfilled, the room slowly started to take shape. Everywhere you looked, your happiness grew. With each adjusted or added detail, you built yourself a home - a place you've never truly had for yourself, and a reflection of your inner being. The "paradise" of sorts that you've craved since the day you were born, even if you couldn't picture it quite yet.

Finally, it was finished, and your mouth is as parched as it is sore, and exhaustion drags incessantly at your bones. But you're happy. You collapse into your desk chair, lost in thought and grinning. Even if you aren't a materialist, the feeling of being able to have a place where you're comfortable and surrounded by things you're passionate about is astounding.

"What now?" you croak.

A glass of water appears on the desk in front of you, causing you to jump in surprise. You lift it up, gingerly. The voice, whatever it is, had never bestowed anything upon you or your surroundings unless you'd asked. However, you're grateful for the cool liquid that slides down your throat soothingly. As soon as you finish, the glass vanishes.

"What now?" you repeat after a moment, with speech a now much easier feat.

"Whatever you'd like."

You look down at your hands, thoughtfully. "Do you have a physical form? All you are to me at the moment is a disembodied non-voice that speaks vaguely and in riddles."

"Whatever you'd like."

You frown again. "But what form would you like to take?" A long silence is drawn out, but you stubbornly refuse to speak until you receive a response.

"I have no desires."

"Then pick one at random! But not anybody I know," I add as an afterthought, but one I think I'll be happy about later.

Another minute passes. Then, with the sound like a black hole being quickly vaporized, a figure appears.