Dreams are the greatest power of mankind. In our waking hours, we dream of more, imagining our futures as they teeter on hopes, hard work, and a little luck. But when we sleep, our subconscious mind takes over, and it is a beast that cannot always b...
The conspiracy articles were wilder than the real news. Only a fraction of humanity had shared this hallucination, and the effects were so widespread around the globe that no one was buying the government's story. Even worse were the majority of the masses who remembered nothing, accusing people of making it up for attention, or worse, feeding the lies to their children to parrot back at reporters.
I had to put down the negativity and let a little of hope filter through, so I gave up reading and started my search. At first I tried to find Faella and Ray, but the names gave me nothing on local online searches. I didn't even know if those were their real names or if they had an online presence, and searching vampires and magic swordsman was just as useless.
I'd just about given up on finding anyone until on my walk home from the bakery, I caught sight of a billboard. It was down a main street that I normally kept away from because it had too much traffic and only sidewalks on one side of the street.
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It was too on point to be coincidence, and I followed the sign as I had Taro that first day in the world of dreams, waiting impatiently at the crosswalk and practically running down the street to stop at a pair of double doors. Through the windows, I could see that this was not a place that bakery workers went for representation, but I couldn't back down.
Floral scented air whooshed down my throat as I opened one of the doors, and a lady greeted me from desk in the back as soon as I set foot on the plush maroon carpets. "Welcome to Manabe and Associates Integrity Law. How can we help you?" Echoed in my ears as I stared up at two chandeliers like a peasant who'd walked into the king's castle. Crystal glittered and reflected down onto the waiting room recliners, and the entire right side of the room was split between a coffee shop and a minibar.
Pastries sat behind glass next to mini bottles of bourbon and Bacardi, and my palms began to sweat as men and women in suits that cost two weeks of my wages gave me the once over. Still in my black work shirt from the bakery, and with the rest of my things slung over my arm in a messenger bag, I was the poster boy from lower-middle class. The walks to and from work did my hair no favors, and a woman with a rock on her finger that could fun my college career tittered to the man next to her.
I didn't belong here.
I was reversing course to back out the door when I tripped over someone and nearly landed face down on the entryway rug. A large hand caught me, and I pulled out of a man's grip to come face to face with someone twenty years too young to be Taro. With pitch hair slicked into a professional weave, the guy also trumped Taro's hair count by a landslide, but the soft pitch eyes that met mine with a warm smile screamed the monk that had started me on the path to both salvation and destruction.
"You must be the savior of humanity," the guy laughed halfway through his sentence, trying to tastefully stifle it with a hand but failing completely "I'm Daisuke, or Dai to my friends,"
