While out on a business errand, Penny finds herself on the outskirts of a residential village, full of magnificent mansions.
“Yasnoozz says she’s completed the lineup sample for our new release. Can you go fetch it for me? You can get some fresh air on the way,” Dallergut had requested.
Now, Penny sits alone in the living room on the first floor of an enormous mansion. Built-in lights in the high ceiling cast a warm glow over the room. Through the window, Penny can see a garden with a few abstract sculptures interlaced with vines.
A set of finely patterned navy blue drapes and sheer inner curtains dance in the wind. The house exudes an air of maturity, possibly from a Calm diffuser. Penny thinks its sleekness reflects Yasnoozz Otra perfectly. She wonders how many years of wages she would need to save up to live in a house like this. The thought leaves her ambivalent.
Otra must still be hard at work upstairs. Only the house staff is bustling about. As if to apologize for making her wait so long, they keep bringing her green-grape-ade, egg tarts and homemade vegetable croquettes.
The staff members are as stylish as Otra. They roam around the house in fitted clothes, looking like models. Penny’s own outfit feels too loose by comparison, and she tries to pull it taut.
Just as Penny starts to worry that Otra might have forgotten about her visit, a young boy peeks over the second-floor handrail.
“Are you from Dallergut’s dream store? Ms. Otra asks you to come up to the second floor!”
There are more than a dozen rooms on the second floor. Penny follows the young boy to one at the end of the hallway. As they approach Otra’s office, they pass a woman wearing an achromatic T-shirt and trunk shorts who’s just leaving.
“Is she a customer?”
“Yes. Ms. Otra meets with her customers at home in person. Most of her works are custom-made through one-on-one appointments. I believe that was her third meeting today. The client will probably visit a few more times to finalize all the details. Her meeting seems to have run longer than expected. Ms. Otra is usually very punctual.”
The boy stops in front of a door with Otra’s self-portrait hanging on it. He gives it two short knocks. The black-and-white portrait captures Otra’s profile with her eyes closed.
“Here, you can go right inside.”
“Thank you.”
Penny opens the door to be greeted by Otra. Her hair is shorter than it was in the general assembly.
“Welcome. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“No worries at all. I didn’t wait too long. I’m Penny from the Dallergut Dream Department Store.”
“Oh, you were at Nicholas’s cabin last time. I remember you.”
Otra is wearing a blouse with fancy sleeves and high-waisted slacks. Her workroom is filled with various reference materials and photographs. It looks like a movie set, complex yet tidy, with a shelf full of fashion magazines and an impressive display case like those at the store. Penny wonders what dreams they contain.
Otra takes a seat on the couch, crossing her legs, her back against the window. Penny sits on the couch across from her. Otra pours dark roast coffee into her mug from a carafe by the couch, and its bitter aroma settles faintly around the room.
“Would you like some?”
“I’m okay, thank you. Your staff gave me a bunch of snacks and drinks.”
“Great. As for me, I desperately need some caffeine. It’s been a rough day. I had three customers come by for consultations this morning.”
“Yes, I saw a customer leaving as I came in. I heard she’s met with you a couple of times already.”
“Yes, my customers mostly struggle with denial. Same with that lady. She’s wasting her days away, comparing her life to others. And it’s gotten worse.” Otra runs her long fingers through her short hair. “I need a couple more sessions with her before diving into the work, because I’m still not fully clear on what she really wants. I’m trying to figure out what kind of help I can offer.” She sips her coffee. “Anyway, how was the trip? Hope it wasn’t a rough ride.”
“No, not at all. I had a pleasant trip, thanks to your vehicle service. I really appreciate it,” Penny responds, but she keeps getting distracted by the thick doors of the display case. They’re overdecorated in a rococo style, but there’s a digital thermometer attached to it, which looks out of place. It must be part of a built-in air circulator, since Penny hears a low buzzing sound. The dreams inside must be priceless, she thinks.
“What a case, right? Want to take a look inside?”
“Can I?” Penny jumps at the chance.
“Of course!”
Otra approaches the case. Inside, there are densely wrapped dream boxes. Others are stored separately and affixed with padlocks. Penny has heard enough about Otra to know that she finds as much enjoyment in her dream collections as she does in her fashion collections.
“I got all these from auctions. They’re all rare products.” Otra opens the display case and takes out one of the locked boxes. “This one’s more than thirty years old. Made by my late mentor.”
“Won’t it have gone bad by now?”
“No, it should be fine. I’ve never seen my mentor’s dreams go bad. Plus I’ve put great care into preserving it.”
“What kind of dreams did your mentor make?” Penny can’t believe she’s having a personal conversation with a legendary dreammaker. She tries to maintain her composure, even though she’s starstruck.
“She created dreams that let you live other people’s lives. An incredible woman. She always emphasized putting one’s heart and soul into each dream. I won’t even come close to accomplishing half the things she did in my whole life.”
“But you’re one of the Legendary Big Five. I’m sure your mentor must be so proud of you,” Penny praises.
“That embarrassing adjective, ‘legendary,’ is nothing more than a gimmick created by the association to sell more...” Otra blushes. “Do you want to know how long the runtime is?” she asks.
“Yes—how long is the dream?”
“Seventy years. Seventy. Can you believe it? She poured her entire seventy years of life into this dream, until her last breath. Then she passed it on to me. Whenever I miss her dearly, I think of opening it up and dreaming it. Then I could relive the moment I first met her or gain insight into the processes that made this masterpiece possible.”
“Then what’s holding you back from dreaming it?”
“Because the dream will be gone afterward. For now, I’m just content that I can keep it in the display case under my care. And this other dream below—I barely managed to get my hands on it at an auction. It is Nicholas’s debut work. He made it when he was very young. He probably has no idea I have this. Penny, I recommend developing an interest in bidding on dreams. They have a higher return on investment than artwork,” Otra advises. “Now, shall we get down to business?”
She removes a small box from deep inside her desk drawer and places it between them.
“This is a trial version I made with the sample you sent the other day. For the title, I’d like to keep Dallergut’s suggestion—‘Lives of Others.’ I love it.”
“Who would the target audience be? Dallergut never gives me any information...” Penny is flustered.
“Call me old-fashioned, but this generation compares themselves with others too much. I understand it is inevitable to some extent.” Otra shrugs. “But if it gets to the point that it affects your life, it’s a serious issue. This is for them.” She gently pushes the small box toward Penny.
“This will be a huge hit. That’s a given, because you made it,” Penny says.
“Who knows, it might flop and no one will buy it. I’m keen to see how Dallergut will market this. My dreams don’t usually sell well,” Otra says modestly.
“No way! We can’t get enough of your work.”
“One of my works last year, ‘Living as a Bully of Mine for a Month,’ was well received by the critics, but the sales were actually low. Who in the world would really want to live as their bully? I should’ve given it a less direct title.” Otra chuckles heartily. “Without ads, my work doesn’t sell well. That’s why we put so much money into TV commercials and outdoor billboards. Had I spent less on ads, I would’ve gotten new curtains for my office already. Anyway, since we haven’t done any promotion this time...you and Dallergut have a critical role in selling this dream.”
Penny senses the gravity of the task. “Sure, I’ve got your back!”
“Thanks.” Otra grins. “By the way, we should mark the box, so it doesn’t get mixed up with others.” She starts writing something on the boxtop: “Lives of Others” (Trial Version)—created by Yasnoozz Otra.
Like a special agent with a mission, Penny puts the small box deep inside her bag, feeling determined. She rushes out of the mansion, heading straight back to the dream store.
It was one of those listless Sundays. The man slept in. By the time he ate a quick meal and caught up on his laundry, it was already late afternoon. He lay down on the sofa, watching a rerun of a music program. Each episode, three new guests were interviewed, then each performed their songs in the form of a mini concert. As the man tuned in, he was glad to see that the last guest in the lineup was the writer of the very song he’d been playing on loop.
“Our last guest is so popular that a number of artists are lining up to collaborate with him!” The host gave an introduction before inviting him onstage. “Of course, that includes me! I’m dying to ask for his number after this show,” the host added playfully. “Holding the top place in the charts for two months in a row, everyone, please welcome Do-hyun Park!”
The man had seen the singer in person a few days ago at the tumbledown multiunit building on the corner of a street he passed on the way to work. The singer had lived in the same city for a long time, and word had spread that he was moving out. When he did, people swarmed his home to get a glimpse of him, including the man. The thought that a celebrity had been living so close by was astounding to him.
“You must be so busy these days!” the host said, greeting the singer.
“Yes, it’s been hectic. But I do enjoy it.”
“Has it sunk in yet? Your massive popularity?”
“No, not really. I still can’t believe it.” The singer smiled widely.
“These past couple of months must’ve been a big transition for you. How has it been? Did you ever expect your first song would be this successful?”
“Things have changed so much for me. I had been toiling in obscurity for a long time, and I never thought my music would do this well. But I was very happy with how the song turned out after I wrote it. And I think that’s important.”
“You must be fielding a lot of phone calls from people trying to reconnect with you.”
“Yes, it’s surreal. I still feel like I’m in a dream just being here. I watched your show every week, never daring to dream about making an appearance here myself. I thought I would’ve been content just to have any small stage to perform.”
He must be so happy to have such a glamorous life, the man thought, his eyes locked on the TV screen.
Recently, the man had grown bored with his own life. He had a girlfriend and a stable job, but every day was the same. Waking up, getting ready for work, going to the same office, meeting with the same people, talking about the same things over lunch, considering himself lucky if he didn’t have to work overtime, and then hurrying back home. The lightning-fast weekend, before the cycle repeated, was what kept him going, making it an almost bearable torture.
That singer’s life will now be filled with new people and new experiences. How would it feel to be loved by thousands? How amazing that must be! His music royalties must be huge, too.
Lately, whenever celebrities appeared on-screen, the man would look up their age and achievements. He felt relieved if they were older than him, but if they were younger or around the same age, he’d grow disheartened.
How come our lives look so different at the same age?
He didn’t necessarily have complaints about his life. He just wished his life were more special. Hearing people say that some are born unique, or destined for the extraordinary made him wonder if he was just born average, adding to his sense of disappointment.
A flood of thoughts coursed through his mind as he lay on the sofa with drooping eyelids. No wonder they say you get sleepier the more you sleep. I just woke up not too long ago... Then, he fell into a deep nap, with the TV still on.
The man is browsing the nap dreams on the fourth floor of the Dallergut Dream Department Store. One employee is following him around, making it hard for him to window-shop.
“Good ones quickly run out of stock, especially for nap dreams. More people nap nowadays, and today is a weekend. I’d recommend taking whatever’s left, rather than searching aimlessly. They’ll all be gone soon.” The long-haired employee in a jumpsuit keeps pressing him.
The man seeks refuge in the corner marked “Short Trip in Daily Life.” But the fun travel packages are already sold out.
“How about this one, sir? It’s my personal favorite.” The employee keeps pestering him. The dream he’s holding is “Flying to Work.” The “flying” part sounds nice, but “work” rubs him up the wrong way.
“I would rather not dream about going to work on a Sunday.”
“What? No way!” Speedo leaps in shock. “I mean, in this dream you can get to work in just three minutes with no traffic!”
“If you go to work early but can’t leave earlier, what good is that...?” The man trails off.
“What I mean is that you can get things done fast, whether it’s commuting to work or otherwise. You don’t get it, man.”
“Oh, well. No, thanks. I’ll just forgo the dreaming and get some good sleep instead.” The man doesn’t want to be bothered anymore. He turns his back on Speedo’s pouting mouth and takes the elevator down to the store’s exit. It is Dallergut who stops him just as he’s leaving.
“Sir, may I ask what length of dream you’re looking for?”
“Roughly fifteen minutes. I’m just taking a short nap.”
“Fifteen minutes. That is... Perfect. And you’re looking for something different, right?”
“How did you know? My daily life is boring, nothing’s fun. It’s all the same, every day,” the man says quickly. It’s as if he’s been waiting for somebody to ask him.
“Then how about ‘Lives of Others’ (Trial Version)? This one here. It has all the know-how of Yasnoozz Otra’s time magic. You will technically dream for only fifteen minutes, but you will have a very long and special experience.” Dallergut enthusiastically promotes the dream. “And since it’s a trial version, we’ll only take half the price.”
“‘Lives of Others’? It sounds interesting! What kind of life? Whose life is it?”
“You’ll know more when you’re in it, but it’s about the life of a famous singer, who rose to stardom overnight. I’m sure you’re familiar with him.”
One particular singer comes to mind. “I actually dozed off watching him on a TV show! What a coincidence!”
“Well, maybe it’s not a coincidence,” Dallergut says mysteriously.
In the man’s dream, he’s in a small room. He’s tired from a lack of sleep and experiencing a severe migraine from artist’s block. The room is cramped. A loud motor noise echoes from the old computer as it attempts to render heavy software. Frustrated, the man shuts down the program.
He’s living a simple life. He no longer desires money or fame. All he wants to do is finish the song to his satisfaction.
The man opens the window screen to let in as much fresh morning air as possible, rubbing his dry eyes to stay awake.
Neighbors from the nearby large apartment complex head to the subway station, passing the corner of the alley where he lives.
“Hey, on my way to work now. Any plans tonight? It’s Friday.” The office worker on the phone is undoubtedly the man himself, but the man in this dream does not recognize him.
In the dream, days go by filled with self-loathing from unemployment and guilt toward his family. His distorted pride makes him avoid calls from friends and family who ask after him, which in turn only makes him feel more pathetic. Wash, rinse, repeat.
That is how the man spends fifteen days inside the dream.
The man woke up from his nap. He had only slept briefly. The same music show was still on, and the last singer was sharing his concluding remarks before his final performance.
“The last song contains all the emotions I felt during the last eight years of being an unknown singer. I would pretend everything was fine on the outside, but when I returned home, I had to confront all these real emotions. Looking back, I can’t imagine how I withstood all that.”
For eight years? The man thought of the anguish he experienced for fifteen days inside his dream. He couldn’t possibly imagine the depth of the pain the singer must have endured for eight years.
People head in the same direction
Against the current, I head to the convenience store
As the singer calmly delivered his performance, the man saw a reflection of his dream state. A self-portrait strangely overlapped with the singer on-screen.
Beams from the setting sun burst into the living room. The man winced. Today, the sunset felt stronger than the sunrise.
He looked around at all the things inside his apartment that were shining in a new light against the sunset. Usually, this time of day, especially on a Sunday afternoon, was the gloomiest hour for him. This time, it felt different.
“What do you think happened to the customer who bought the trial version? The payment hasn’t arrived yet,” Penny says.
“Enlightenment comes with time,” Dallergut replies, tidying up a pack of catalogs on the front desk.
“What kind of payment will arrive for a dream like ‘Lives of Others’? I sometimes feel jealous or insecure when I look at other people’s lives. Other times, I feel relieved or better about myself.” Penny thinks of different situations. She remembers feeling jealous when her classmate got a job in a major dream store before her, or when her friends’ families seemed better off. She’d also felt a sense of superiority after seeing a kid working at a loading dock on the outskirts of the village, and she was embarrassed for having felt that way.
“I believe there are two ways to love your life, Penny. The first is to work hard to change your life when you feel unsatisfied.”
“That seems about right.” Penny nods.
“The second option may look easier, but is actually more difficult. And even if you do change your life through the first option, you must ultimately get through the second to be at complete peace.”
“And what is that?”
“To accept your life as it is and be grateful. It’s easier said than done. But if you can do it, I believe you’ll realize that happiness is just around the corner.” Dallergut speaks slowly to underscore his point. “I believe our customers will choose whichever of these two options fits them. Then, their precious emotions will arrive as their payments.”
“I have a feeling it’ll take a very long time,” says Penny.
“And we can definitely take however much time we need. Then we can roll out the official version of ‘Lives of Others.’”