Selling Dreams

Dreams are a funny thing. I’m talking about the ones you see after you shut your lights off and crawl under the covers after a long day—not the ones that you strive for and think will actually happen. Apparently these “dreams” are supposed to be things you’ve seen before or things you secretly desire. Sometimes they’re even things you fear.  

    Me? I’m kind of crafty at this dream thing. Well, controlling it anyway.

    When I was sixteen, I had mastered how to control these dreams. It was just a thing that had happened. Slowly, I was able to decide what happened in my dreams from the people in them to the events that followed. It’s called lucid dreaming. I didn’t know at the time but every night I went to bed, excited. It was like a world you could control your way. Perfect, isn’t it?

    Which is why I want to sell this.

    I’m twenty six now and ten years later, I’ve formulated a serum. An actual serum—not a ripoff or anything. One spoonful and you’ll get exactly the dream you want. Your own world. And if I got a company to fund me, I could find ways to create serums for dreams that would tell you things about yourself—your fears, who you actually liked, what you actually wanted—because sometimes your subconscious knows these things better than you do.    

    I am sitting in a hard gray chair on the fifty-fourth floor of SciTron, the company I want as a sponsor. The elite of the elite. “And that’s it, folks. Those were my ideas,” I say. I’ve just gotten up and given them a slideshow trying to explain my product.

    There are three scientists and two doctors sitting in front of me. The table is round and circles around where I am. None of them speak. “What do you think?”

    One of the doctors with a beard sits up straighter. “Mr. Burns, how will we know this is safe for the average human? Nobody will buy this without statistics.”

    I stand and walk over to the laptop that’s connected to the projector. I play a quick five minute video. “Gentlemen,” I say, “this is a sped up video of me sleeping for the last forty days after taking the serum.” The video plays of me just resting peacefully throughout the forty days. “I’ve been the lab rat for the serum myself and I am still standing, as you can see. They’re just like sleeping pills.”

    “So there’s no risks?” a scientist asks.

    “Well, of course, there’s risks. Everybody is different and it might not work correctly with some people or may cause a new allergen to develop but aren’t all medicine and products full of risks?” I ask. “Everyone knows they’re there. You get on a bike knowing you might fall. That’s just the fun of it.”

    They all nod and start whispering to each other. I mean, there are bigger risks like addiction and never wanting to wake up by leaving reality for your dream world, but this is my final meeting with them. I’ve had ten meetings going through all the board here and these are my last group of board members. If they accept, my product will be launched within a month, so I don’t say anything that might jeopardize that.

    A bald man speaks up. “Mr. Loman Burns, your product has stood out to us against all other candidates. Once we do intensive research and have the FDA approve...I think you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Yes!” I shout, pumping my fist. The doctors and scientists all laugh and one moment I’m there and another month later, my products hit shelves. The press is enormous for the serum, calling it the new affordable Botox. Cameras are flashing, calling me the next Mark Zuckerberg. Having invented such a creation at such a young age.  

One night, I walk to my car from coming from the SciTron laboratories. Already, we are all working on a specialized serum where you can have other people in your dreams. Like a group chat but in your dreams at night. Don’t know why anyone would buy that but people are strange and it’ll make me billions.

    I drive home, extremely tired from a long day. We had an office party today to celebrate over two million sales. There were weird fancy sandwiches and wine that tasted too sour but I had to get accustomed to the richer tastes of food—literally. I think the catering there costed at least five thousand.

Sinking into bed, it feels like heaven and tonight I just want to sleep not dream so I don’t drink any serum. I have no dreams and feel refreshed the next morning. At work, the president needs me in his office. He’s standing by the ceiling to floor windows that look over the city.

“Good morning, sir,” I greet him and he turns around.

He smiles and ushers me over to stand beside him. “Isn’t the morning just beautiful?” I look out and he’s right. The bright sun is at the center of the sky and the city sparkles under it.

I nod. “It’s wonderful.”

    The president coughs. “Anyways, what I wanted to call you in here for was to tell you something we came across during testing. But before that, I just want to tell you something right away.” I nod. “We’re in a stimulation,” he says.

    “What?” I ask, very confused.

    “You know that specialized serum we are making? The one where other people can be in your dream? We are testing that right now. None of this is real.”

    My eyes widen. I look around. No wonder everything looked a bit off. The sun shouldn’t be in the center of the sky during the morning and the city shouldn’t be literally sparkling. You don’t notice how strange dreams are until you wake up. “How? I never drank…”

    “It was in the wine yesterday.” He frowns. “Sorry for having to do it without your consent. We were testing if the person would be aware or not.”

    “Why?” I say.

    “Because…” he says. “This is what I wanted to tell you. We could sell this to bigger countries. This could be a war weapon!”

“What do you mean? They’re just dreams….”

“Not anymore,” he explains. He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out something strange. “In this dream world, you can invent any sort of weapon your mind can create. This could make us the first company to make trillions!”

“Yes, but the weapons won’t follow you back to reality, sir,” I try to explain.

He sighs. “I knew you wouldn’t understand.” And then it’s fast and quick and suddenly he’s sticking the weird strange object into my heart. There’s no pain—it’s only a dream—but I’m gasping and surprised. “While we were testing, we came to the conclusion that if you stop the heart and breathing in a dream, you can trick the body into thinking you’re actually dying. And then you will.”

I’m staggering now, feeling like I’m being choked. My breathing is rough and I try to reach for the weapon but since this is also his dream, I don’t have most of the control. “W-Why are you doing this to me?”

The president smirks. “Before, I would’ve had to share half my income from this with you, but now? It’ll be mine. All of it.” I blink in and out, my vision blurring. I must be waking up—I have to be. You can’t kill someone in a dream. Can you? “Thank you, Loman for your inventions but you have no uses anymore. If only you could dream when you’re dead,” he says, his voice dripping low like the walls around this dream and suddenly I’m opening my eyes in the “real” world. I’m so happy at first but then a pain hits me in the chest and I’m suddenly having trouble breathing again. I see doctors standing above me, masks over their faces. I hear a zipper going up. What’s happening? Why am I hurt? It isn’t until I realize the zipper is for the body bag I’m in that I realize I’m dying for real. But I want to live. I want to live. I want to—

I wake up? Which is very confusing on two levels because first, didn’t I just die? And second, didn’t I just die before that too? But I get up and my head doesn’t hurt and my heart hasn’t been stabbed. In fact, the scariest part is seeing my mother standing in front of me, hands on her hips. “Loman, what are you doing here still? You’re late for school!”

    “But I’m twenty-six and someone just tried to kill me and—”

She scoffs and walks out of my room. “Nice try, Loman. But you’re just a sixteen year old boy with horrible skills in trying to get out of school. Get up in five minutes or I’m not making you pancakes!”

Dreams are a funny thing.  

this was my last piece for my writing class :(

i forgot to add some pieces but it's ok

idk if i'll still post anything for this little mix of stories but i hope i do! thank you for those people that gave this mash of stories a chance and inputting your comments & emotions. always love the support xx