It Doesn't Do Well to Dream

Chapter 2

Peyton paced.

Her shared home was so clean that it sparkled and Clara had left for her shift a few hours prior. Peyton had to go back to work in the morning, but she was terrified of going to sleep. These not dreams were plaguing her and she didn't want to experience them anymore. Whatever they were, they couldn't be good and she really didn't need her consciousness wandering off to some other realm. Or whatever it was that was going on.

The cut on her hand was still a visible, pale pink and Peyton rubbed at it as she made another lap around the couch.

"Ok," she muttered to herself. "I haven't had any apple juice today and got plenty of exercise cleaning, maybe I won't dream."

Her pacing came to a halt as she gazed into the adjoining kitchen and spied the cabinet that held both hers and Clara's vitamins. Peyton frowned, her right leg bouncing in anxiety as she thought.

"Maybe a little NyQuil wouldn't hurt."

Part of her felt guilty as she poured the recommended dosage into the small plastic cup. But really, she reasoned, she wasn't addicted to the stuff. Some people did crazier things for a good night's sleep. It wasn't like she was going to make a habit of it.

The sharp green liquid left a bitter tang on her tongue as she downed the medication in one quick shot. She grimaced as it settled in her stomach and was reminded of how little she enjoyed cough syrup in the first place.

"Here's to hoping."

Peyton prepared for bed slowly, going so far as to brush her hair a hundred times in an attempt to stall. But eventually the time and medication joined forces and she slid under her sheets trying not to think at all. She set her alarm for ten minutes early and turned the volume all the way up.

[]

"Have you been listening to a word I'm saying? Focus, Peyton; this is important."

Peyton jerked, her back hitting something solid and she blinked and took in the room. She found herself surrounded by rich wooden bookcases, countless books, and an irritated woman in a pantsuit. She was sitting at a table now. Open books and loose paper were spread around her and Peyton groaned.

"Not again."

"You will do it until you have it mastered. Now once more, tell me what a merger is."

Peyton looked down at the handwriting on the paper in front of her and guessed she was probably somewhere around the sixth grade based off the penmanship.

"A merger is the combining of two or more companies. Usually one company surrenders their stock for securities in the the acquiring company. It's a mutually come to decision by both parties. Can I go now?"

The woman appeared stunned by her answer and Peyton wondered at how this conversation had been going beforehand.

"I suppose so. But be here after your last class! We still need to practice proper dinner behavior."

Peyton scrambled out of the chair and bee-lined it to a set of double doors. It seemed in this world she was still being subjected to some sort of pretentious schooling.

She was hungry, now that the lady had brought up lunch, and she wondered fleetingly if she'd ever be able to find the cafeteria. Or kitchen, or dining hall, or whatever this uppity school boasted.

Cliques of students passed her by, a few even waved, but Peyton recognized none of them. Something in her bra buzzed and she yelped while desperately trying to pull the object out from a crisp, white button up blouse. It was a small flip phone.