Where Dreams Are Made

He had the same dream every night. Well, almost the same. It always took place in the same city – not one he recognized, though. He had a sense that this city was somehow apart from his waking world cities. Also, he himself was apart. He somehow knew that he was dreaming, or at least that he was only there temporarily and he would return to his other life – his real life, whatever that was. He didn't know his name or what his job or interests were. He knew nothing about himself, yet this didn't bother him.

He would just appear – become aware of himself – strolling down the road, sipping coffee at a cafe, sitting on a bench in the park, never bothered, feeling totally confidant in his place in this world, even if he didn't know (had he been asked) what that was. He was a happy, incognito, interloper.

Sometimes in the cafes there were news stories on the TVs or radios that played, or he listened in on other people's conversations (no shame in eavesdropping here), or there was a newspaper he'd glance through, and he learned a little about the city.

It seemed like a pretty big city with tall buildings, but he never saw what he'd call skyscrapers. There were townhomes and apartment blocks. Things seemed peaceful, though, of course, there was the occasional crime – he once saw news of a bank robbery splashed across the front of a newspaper outside a train station (the city had trains, too, and buses).

As he spent more and more of his time there, he felt the atmosphere of the city shift. The people he passed in the street looked more hurried. The cafe patrons huddled more closely together and spoke in hushed voices. The news anchors' expressions grew weary and worried. Upon waking, he could never grasp quite why. But the skies grew darker in the dream world, and it left a pall over his waking day.

The people of the dream city began to mutter of a savior, and this talk was everywhere. He had grown concerned about his second home, and he asked people, “Who is this savior?”

The people all agreed, “They are strong! And smart! They can take on any evil!” But they didn't know who it was or how they would arrive.

One day, when the sun was only as bright at midday as it was at twilight, as he slipped away from the city and up through the layers to the waking world, he thought, “Why not me?”

He considered the world he knew awaited him, but that he couldn't remember, then he turned away. He returned to city of his dreams, and he soared.