Flowers from 2020

Finally Ready

I'll spare you the details.

It had taken years of hard work and research, 50 years to be exact. How ironic that another 50 years should separate the two. Exactly 100 years since that day in 1970 when Dream had first called that "wrong number".

George had aged, just how time had intended; he was now an old man. An old man like the one he remembered seeing in the hospital, hooked to machines. The one he had talked to over the phone and called an old man jokingly. The one he had loved.

George was finally ready. Ready to right the wrong that time had made. Wilbur and his family tried to change George's mind when it had all began, all those years ago, but George could not be swayed. He was going to pull this off, no matter what it took. He had promised the old present Dream that he would find a way, and he intended to keep that promise.

Eventually Wilbur and his family came around. They saw how miserable George was, and even if it was wrong, Wilbur wanted his dad back; wanted to see him one last time. So he helped. He helped for nearly 5 decades before he passed away suddenly, almost as suddenly as Dream had. It had rocked George to his core, not only had he lost Dream, but he had lost Dream's son as well. It was too much. In the grief-filled confusion that Wilbur's death had caused, George snuck away. Away from Techno, who missed his brother dearly. Away from Tommy, who had now not only lost his mother, but his father as well. Away from the chaos that time had wrought.

On the anniversary of that first phone call, George was ready. The little time machine he had spent decades with Wilbur building sat ready. Taking a shaky deep breath, he called upon the power of space and time. He set the clock back 50 years, and waited.

At first nothing happened, and George's heart almost broke on the spot. But, just when he was about to give up hope and turn off the machine, he was whisked away. To where, he'll never know. He does know he was floating. George could see nothing but an endless swirl of color before him. Perhaps it was a gateway into the past, or a void where time ceased to exist. Maybe he had ended up in the far reaches of space, never to be seen again.

But just as he was starting to question just where exactly he was, he found himself being pulled. Pulled in every direction, it seemed. He didn't know what to do, so he just closed his eyes and let it happen.

When he felt as if he were again on solid ground, he opened his eyes. He found himself back where he had been before, in his bedroom; Dream's old bedroom. He found himself looking at his desk for the little time machine, but it wasn't there. That was fine, he didn't need it anymore. He turned to make sure he had gone to the right place in time, and he had; the old phone was still sitting there, but it's cord was still fully intact. That meant he wasn't too late. He could still fix this. So he waited. He waited for his past self to arrive home.
-
It had been a good day for George. He had finished his work early and had decided to go for a walk in the park. While there he ran into Wilbur and his family again. They visited for a while until Wilbur's dad had called, and the family said they should make their way back home.

George bid them farewell and started the short walk home. He was trying to think of how to occupy himself for the night, since Dream was visiting his sister and wouldn't be able to call that night. As he unlocked his front door, he found himself still thinking. Maybe he would make some popcorn and watch a movie to distract himself. Yeah, that sounded nice.

He decided to head up to his room so he could change into something more comfortable, but he stopped before he got to the doorway.

Sitting there, on his bed, was an old man.

George jumped in shock, but the old man just sat there, waiting it seemed.

"H-hello?" George tentatively asked as he started to come closer to the man.

He was so confused, why was there a random old man in his house. George couldn't think of any logical explanation for this.

But then it hit him.

"Dream?" He asked, "is-is that you?"

The old man sat for a second, before he started to chuckle. "Sadly, no my dear boy."

"Then who are you?" George asked. If this old man wasn't Dream, then who could it be. Could he be lost? Did he wander into the wrong house or something?

"Sit down boy, I'm not going to hurt you," the old man gestured to George's bed where he was sitting, before patting the spot next to him. George didn't know why, but instead of being weary or afraid (something that people usually are when a stranger is in their house), George found himself walking closer.

He sat by the old man, and waited for him to speak again. But the old man turned to look at him, and stared him in the face, taking in all his features. A semi-awkward silence stretched on for a minute or two as George just sat there, letting the old man study him. Finally the old man turned away, chuckling lightly.

"What's so funny?" Asked George, rightfully confused.

"Oh nothing," the old man said, "I just can't believe how young I once was."

George's eyes widened. "Are you... me?"