I go to sleep every night at 10:00. Shower, brush my teeth, sleep. Every single night. And I sleep well. I have always had oddly vivid dreams. I can read, write, and talk in them, which I was surprised to learn is rare.
That night was just like any other night. Crawl under the covers at 10 and fall asleep. I began to dream about a summer camp I would go to as a child. It had sprawling fields and forests where we would hike. I was by the bonfire late at night, when I noticed a strange girl at the edge of the treeline. I had never seen her before, and she intrigued me. In the dream, I walked towards her and she went further into the woods. I followed.
There was a clearing with a picnic table in the middle which the girl sat down on. She was older than me, with long dark hair and blue eyes. I went over to the table and sat down.
“Hello, Clarisse,” The girl had said,
“Hi… I’ve never seen you here before. Are you late arriving at camp?” For some reason, possibly because it was a dream, I didn’t find it odd that she knew my name.
She chuckles, “Yeah. I got here yesterday,”
“Oh. Well we probably should be getting back to the bonfire. I think the counselors will come looking for us soon,”
Suddenly, It was the end of the summer. We were sitting in that same clearing when she pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil and began to write down her name and phone number, passing it across the table to me. I did the same.
“Call me when you wake up,”
When I woke up, I found the dream very odd. Even odder was the fact that I remembered her name and phone number. Melissa Moore, 412-316-6290. I picked up my phone and wrote it in the notes app. I went about my day as usual, not thinking too much of it. I thought that if I called it, some old lady would pick up, very confused as to who I was. It couldn’t possibly be her number.
That night, when I went to bed, I had the same dream. In fact, I had that same dream every night for a week. Still, I didn’t call the number. But on the eighth morning waking up after the dream, I finally decided to call.
“Hello?” I asked into the phone when it was answered,
“Finally. Eight dreams? Usually it only takes one or two. Skeptical you are. Or maybe just anxious,”
I stood there with the phone up to my ear, shocked, “Melissa?”
“Yes. You will see me again tonight. Just in a slightly…different setting. Although that summer camp was scenic,”
“What-” I began to say, but the call ended. I looked at the phone, disappointed and confused. How had some character in a recurring dream called me in real life?
I pinched my arm, trying to wake up. There was no way this could be real right? It had to be a dream. But when I pinched my arm, I didn’t wake up. When I went to work that day, I didn’t wake up.
But when I went to sleep that night, I did wake up. In a dream. Sure enough, Melissa was there, as promised. We were in what looked to be an old bookshop, except the ceiling was a huge skylight and there were three moons. There were both old and new books lining every inch of the wallspace, and several large, arching doorways that looked to lead into more and more rooms similar to the one I was in.
Finally, I got my tongue to move and my mouth to form words, “Melissa, how did you contact me in the real world when you’re just a dream?”
“What makes you say that? I’m just as real as you,”
“Except for the fact that you’re in a dream?”
“Does this feel like a dream to you, Clarisse?”
I paused. When I really thought about it, no. It felt real. Just like every waking moment in the real world, I felt just as real.
“Let me explain,” Melissa said, “This is a type of pocket world. Very few people can access it. Maybe twenty or thirty every two hundred years. Currently, the only dream moderators are me, Jack, Claire, and Juniper. Rarely are we here at the same time, but we have meetings every few months. If any of us come across any dreamers strong enough to come here and join, we call a meeting to see if it’s even a good idea to bring them here. Usually the answer is no, they would abuse the power and play jokes on people’s dreams, or venture into current dreams for their own entertainment. We only choose the ones who we believe won’t abuse the power to moderate dreams,”
“What is this place? And what are dream moderators?”
“This is the Moonlight Society. We browse dreams to make sure people don’t remember more than they need to. More than they should,”
“Meaning?” I asked
“Meaning your brain can create some deeply… disturbing dreams. It’s our job to make sure you don’t remember too much. Now sometimes dreams slip through the cracks. Those are nightmares. Most of the time, though, we end up finding confusing or ordinary dreams. Rarely do we need to actually go into them, only read them. That’s why we’re in a bookshop,”
“We’re literally standing in a library full of people’s dreams?”
“Yes. Now my question is, how would you like to join us? Become a dream moderator. It pays well too. You won’t have to get a job outside of the Moonlight Society if you don’t want to. Simply come here every few nights, read through whatever dreams call to you and erase some of the pages that shouldn’t be remembered, then wake up and go about your day. Move somewhere nice, maybe,”
“Can I have a few days to think? Consider if I want to?”
“Sure. We’ll call you back in three days. They you can decide,”
And she did. Three days later I was called back. I took the job. Now, three years later, I’m living in a cozy apartment in London. I have some friends. I go for coffee at a local coffee shop every morning and eat breakfast there too sometimes. Hiding my job is difficult, since you can’t exactly just casually mention you’re a Dream Moderator, but I’ve made it work so far.
CCPL Writers' Block 