THE FIRST NIGHTMARE

“This one only lets one kid in at a time.” Penny nodded to the tent as they joined the line. “The door seals up until you’ve had time to get far enough along so the next kid won’t catch you.”

Andrea shivered at the thought of going into her first nightmare completely alone. But she didn’t want to change her mind in front of all the other kids waiting, or for anyone to think she was scared.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been in it before, lots of times. Once you’re in, I’ll run around and meet you at the exit. And this is very important to remember, Andrea: In every single dream, good or nightmare, there is always, always an exit. Some are easier to figure out than others, but you’re never trapped. You just have to find the door.”

Andrea nodded, only slightly reassured as they inched closer to the canvas that sealed and reopened rhythmically, long enough to let a single child step inside, until she and Penny stood before the seam to the tent. Andrea glanced at Penny, who gave a nod and a smile as the tent unsealed.

Andrea took a deep breath and tried to look brave as she pushed aside the heavy canvas of her first Reverie nightmare.

The second the tent flaps shut, relief washed over her like a wave on the shores of a lake on a hot summer day. A pleasant, peaceful scene opened wide before her. Maybe Penny had been mistaken and this wasn’t a nightmare after all, or maybe certain things were scary to some kids that weren’t scary to others.

Andrea pinched her arm as a precaution and felt no pain, only the pull of skin between her fingers. Okay. She could do this. No matter what happened between now and the exit, this was certainly and only a dream.

A refreshing breeze wound through the otherwise still air, then twirled upward toward an amethyst sky. Tall grass tickled at the edges of Andrea’s fingertips, and a rolling field lay out in front of her, dotted with dandelion puffs. Hundreds of fireflies winked slowly as they flew in lazy patterns above the grass.

Andrea waded into the field, the air thick with the scent of rich, damp wood and lush, ripe berries. A wooden table stood alone in front of her in the field, and on it sat a set of glass jars, fitted with lids with holes poked in the top. Perfect for catching fireflies.

Andrea tried to snatch a jar, but her body wouldn’t move faster than the pace of the scene, a bit faster than slow motion, but not quite the speed of normal. Andrea brushed it off as one of the quirks of this dream and let her muscles relax, cupping her hands around the thick glass.

She held the jar open above her head and watched as a firefly looped around it, almost curious. She tipped the jar on its side and slid it around the bug’s hovering frame, twisting the gold cap shut. Andrea brought her eyes in close to her prize. The firefly’s light beat like a pulse as he rested on the jar’s bottom. He stared at her curiously, with eyes more wise than bug-like. Andrea thought he might open his mouth and speak. But he just sat there with his light blinking, on and off, on and off, on and off, and his curious, curious eyes staring wide.

Andrea set the jar down, longing to see what it felt like to fall back onto the lush, long grass. She closed her eyes and spread out her arms, tipping backward, sinking into what could have been the softest pillow in the entire world. She opened her eyes and rolled back and forth, sending splashes of dandelion puffs into the slow-moving air.

A noise sounded to her right. Andrea sat up to find that another child had entered the slit of the tent. Her heart sunk a little. She didn’t want to share this place with another kid. She wanted—needed—to be alone. It was time to move on.

Andrea stood and trudged forward through the grass until a set of hilly fields rose up to her left, with the lights of a warm-looking town at the very peak. Part of her wanted to climb the hill to explore the town, but something made her stop and watch. There were people moving slowly, only shadows in the near-dark sky, gathering by the cliff. Men in top hats and women with long-gowned silhouettes lined up right at the edge.

A woman in a ball gown walked toward Andrea from the darkness to her right, the swish of her dress matching the distant sound of waves hitting stone. Steely determination filled the woman’s eyes, and her chin lifted in pride. She didn’t speak, but somehow Andrea knew this woman’s name. Her name was the Reaper.

The woman paused as she approached where Andrea stood, staring at her with a face white enough to belong to a ghost.

“Well, come along, child,” she said, beckoning, reaching out a snow-white hand toward Andrea. “We must do what we must.”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure what you mean.” Andrea looked between the woman and the cliff, attempting to find anything that would clue her in as to what this nightmare had in store. “I don’t belong here. I think you’ve made a mistake.” She took a slow step backward and away. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Everything inside her screamed that she had to get away from this woman.

“There’s been no mistake, Andrea Murphy. You are right where you belong. The sea witch requires a sacrifice, and tonight the honor is yours.”

Andrea’s forearms prickled and her stomach turned as her ears picked up on a low and eerie sound.

The shadowed faces of the townspeople turned toward her as they chanted something. Slow and quiet to start, but fast picking up in intensity and speed.

Her name.

She had to find the way out of this tent. Now. She spun away from the woman, searching, desperate to find that becoming a sacrifice to a sea witch wasn’t the path to the exit.

Andrea pushed through the thick air as fast as she could until a slit of light appeared in the distance ahead, tucked inside a tree line. The shuffling of the woman’s gown behind Andrea drew closer and closer.

“You must fulfill your destiny! You must fulfill your role!” the woman screeched, her voice shrill and cutting through the heavy air, her ice-cold fingers clawing at Andrea’s waist and her warm breath hitting the back of Andrea’s neck, making its hairs stand on end.

A fairytale cottage peeked out from the edge of the woods. Smoke piped out the chimney, and a warm yellow light shone through a small round window. The aroma of fresh-baked bread met Andrea’s nose, calling to her, asking her to stop by the cottage for a visit. Tempting her to seek refuge inside its walls from the horror outside.

Margaret Grace’s warning to not stay too long inside a nightmare still rang loud in Andrea’s ears as she veered to the right of the cottage toward the tiny shaft of light. She stuck her hand through the slit. Cooler air met her fingertips on the other side. She pushed her body through the narrow opening, exiting the dream and finding herself once again in a row of Reverie tents.

Andrea doubled over, dizzy from pushing so hard through the heavy atmosphere inside the dream. She wiped sweat off her forehead with her sleeve, gasping with each breath, forcing air into her lungs while the desperate need to escape cloaked her like an ugly, worn, too-familiar sweater. The other dreams had filled her with wonder. This one, extreme and terrible as it was, filled her with an itching to run far away, something she had felt too often in her real life, though the reason why was tucked away in a circus tent somewhere as part of what she had chosen to forget. A lot of good pinching had done her. The dream had seemed so real there hadn’t been any space in her brain to remember it was pretend. She would have to do a better job of keeping her wits about her in the future.

“So?”

Andrea looked up and into Penny’s gleeful face.

“How was it?!”

Andrea settled back into the lane, landed her gaze on the striped blue and white of the tents, tapped the packed dirt beneath her feet with her shoes, and inhaled the enticing aromas brushing past the air beneath her nose. She caught hold of the laughter and movement of the other Reverie children and released a huge breath, letting every ounce of tension melt away like hot caramel over a waxy red apple on a stick.

Then, despite herself, she smiled.

She was fine.

Penny’s goofy I told you so face dissolved into laughter, and Andrea joined her.

The nightmare was better than anything scary in her own life because Andrea could enter and exit the nightmare tents knowing that none of it was real. She was in charge, for once, of when the horror ended, and she couldn’t wait for the next thrill.

Andrea pulled Penny into a massive hug, and they spun and twirled and giggled together in the middle of the Reverie lane.

Wait.

Andrea tore away with a sudden jerk, the breath snatched clear out of her lungs.

It had been such a long time since Andrea had gotten swept away in a moment with another person. There was a reason she couldn’t lose herself like this, even if she couldn’t remember what the reason was.

She had to stay in control.

Or someone was bound to get hurt.