My head was bowed against the chilly wind as I made my way down the busy sidewalk. Above me, buildings loomed like giant grey dominoes, their blank windows reflecting the gloomy winter sky. I maneuvered through the crowd surging alongside me. It was four o’clock on a Friday, and everyone was eager to make it back home and slough off their coats, hats, gloves and scarves. I, however, was not headed home. My destination lay a little further ahead, on the corner of the block. I approached with haste, drawing my scarf more tightly around my face as tiny flecks of snow began to fall.

I crossed a street, and the Daydream Cafe came into view. I could not help but smile slightly as I beheld the place, shining jewel-bright in the wintry grey surroundings. The words “Daydream Cafe” were affixed in luminescent neon letters to the building’s front, and I glimpsed through the windows the familiar cozy interior: dark wood paneled walls, squashy red chairs, low glass tables that were kept so clean they glittered like diamond. I slipped out of the current of people and through the door.

A musical jingle sounded through the shop as the door swung shut behind me. I unraveled my scarf and breathed a sigh of relief as the cafe’s warmth washed over me. Immediately, one of the waitresses strode over, a pen tucked neatly behind her ear.

“Hello there, Jim,” she said cheerily. “You having the usual?”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect,” I said gratefully, stowing my gloves in my pocket. “I need to get feeling back in my fingers. Thanks, Mary.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied airily. “Just take a seat over there, and I’ll have it out to you in a jiffy.”

As Mary bustled off, I sank into one of the squashy chairs by the window and glanced around the cafe. The area that contained the tables and chairs was relatively small, occupying only about a quarter of the cafe. This was hardly a surprise. Though the service was excellent and the caffe mochas were beyond compare, the “cafe” part had never been the main draw of the Daydream Cafe. Rather, it lay in the little booths that ran along the walls, each one just wide enough for a single person to occupy. Currently these were all full, their occupants reclined back on their chairs as if they were taking a nap in a hammock. Each one was wearing a peculiar sort of helmet, one that covered their eyes and ears, black and shiny with pulsating blue lights on either side. None of them stirred; they lay quiescent, the only motion the rising and falling of their chests as they breathed. It was for this that I had come. I had reached the status of regular long ago. I had been coming to the Daydream on a daily basis for well over two years now, and I was not planning on stopping anytime soon. The place was unique, my safe haven, for I knew the awesome power contained within those weird-looking helmets. They could take anything imaginable, literally anything, and create an experience so vibrant it was indistinguishable from reality.

“Your coffee, hun,” piped up Mary, who had appeared suddenly at my side. “One sugar and a dollop of chocolate--but of course, you knew that already.”

I took the steaming mug from her hands and took a sip. I could feel the heat make its way down my throat and into my stomach, burning away the numbness and the cold.

“I never say it enough, Mary, but you make a mean coffee,” I said, holding the mug close to my chin and breathing in the enticing aroma.

“You flatter me,” she chortled. “Though I have gotten a lot of practice making this one, the amount that you come in here.”

“Fair point,” I replied, taking another sip of my coffee.

“I mean, we have other regulars of course,” Mary said, “but you...if I recall correctly, there hasn’t been a day in the past two years where you haven’t shown up.”

“What can I say? I really like it here.”

“Believe me, hun, I’m not complaining! It just makes me a little curious…but no, that’s not something I should ask.”

“What?” I inquired with a mild sense of foreboding.

“What is it that you Dream about?” she said in a low voice that would not carry to the other customers.

“Oh,” I said, hoping against hope that I would not go red as memories of my most recent Dreams flooded my mind. “You know...being out in nature. Life in the city...you don’t get to see a lot of green, and I like having that daily pick-me-up to remind me there’s more to the world than bricks and concrete.”

“Oh, how lovely!” she beamed. “I just might try that out for my next Dream.”

I tried to mirror her smile. I thought I owed it to Mary to confide in her at least part of the truth, for she had been nothing but kind to me since I had first stepped foot into the Daydream. However, it was a very personal question, and I rather thought I would die before I told her, or anyone for that matter, the entire truth about my Dreams. Thankfully, at that moment a small device in Mary’s pocket began to buzz and glow bright blue.

“Looks like a booth has just opened up,” she said, switching off the device so it lay still and silent in her hand. “That one on the back wall there. I’ll take your mug, if you’re done.”

I quickly threw back the remainder of the coffee and handed the mug off. “Thanks again.”

“No problem, hun. And Jim?”

“Yeah?”

“You enjoy those flowers, now.”

“I...I will.”

I made my way quickly to the open booth, trying not to feel resentful. I should have expected that the question would crop up someday; it was only natural that she would be curious. And really, I shouldn’t have been upset with her for asking...it was my own fault that my Dreams were of such a nature that I was embarrassed to share the truth, and had to say something stupid to hide the truth. Though, I hadn’t totally lied to her...I did like to get away from the city in my Dreams, though that was more the backdrop than the actual subject.

The actual subject...as I made my way to the booth, I felt myself beginning to go numb, not from cold, but from anticipation. I had thought I would’ve gotten over this by now, but the sensation was just as powerful as it had been on my first foray into a Dream. I didn’t know what other people Dreamed...perhaps they visited a different world each session, lived out a different fantasy every time they donned the helmet. I, however, always visited the same world, with the same people. While others had one-off Dreams, I was living a full-fledged life in mine, one session at a time. Though I tried to keep my cool, I could feel myself nearly quivering with anticipation as I entered the booth, laid back in the chair, and placed the helmet on my head. Immediately, the sights and sounds of the cafe were extinguished. Blackness pressed against my eyeballs as I heard a smooth mechanical voice speak in my ear.

“Your session will last one hour. The Dream will initiate in five...four...three...two…”

As suddenly as the darkness had come, it was gone, replaced by blinding sunlight. Though I had been prepared for this, I could not stop myself from raising my arms to shield my eyes as they adjusted to their new surroundings.

“I told you you should have brought your sunglasses,” a voice next to me said amusedly.

I squinted towards the voice. The blurry figure resolved itself into a young man I knew very well: Tim. He was several inches taller than me, today dressed in khaki shorts and a striped polo, a blue backpack slung over his shoulders. He had just removed his own sunglasses to reveal his boyish face, clean shaven and shining with a slightly mischievous smile. His blond hair was rather untidy, as though he had just emerged from a wind tunnel, though this suited him. He looked quite handsome. “Here, want to borrow mine?”

“No,” I said. “I brought my hat, remember? If you stand still, I’ll dig it out of the pack.”

He obliged, pausing on the pathway so I could retrieve the hat. It was right at the top, a big floppy sun hat with rose-colored trim. “That’s better,” I said, arranging it carefully on my head. It blocked the sun for the most part, allowing me to view my surroundings. The pair of us were standing on a paved pathway, one side of which was bordered by a stream, flowing lazily along and glinting in the sunlight. The other was overgrown with all variety of greenery: knotted trees, whose leaves cast swaths of shade over the sunny ground; rocks covered in velvety green moss; tall, tangled grass interspersed with beautiful flowers in purples, oranges, and golds. I knew exactly where we were. The Garden, I called it. It was not named after anything, for it stood on its own. A Garden, exactly how I imagined the perfect garden should be, conjured from my mind and yet so real. The situation, too, was no mystery to me, for I had orchestrated this Dream to pick up right where the last one had ended. Still, I couldn’t resist bending down to examine the bark of the tree. I ran my finger across it, and I felt the rough texture as clear as anything I had felt in reality. I then crossed over to the stream, crouching down to gaze at my reflection in the water.

A giddiness, a giddiness with which I was well acquainted, stole through me as I gazed into the stream. No trace of Jim remained in the face that was reflected there. There were no edges, there was no stubble, nothing of the sort. In fact, the girl that was reflected there was about as far from Jim as one could get. The slightly round, youthful face smiled back at me, a smile framed by pink lips. The nose and cheeks were dotted with freckles, and the eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel, adorned with rather thick eyelashes. The sun hat perched elegantly on my hair, which was no longer dark and unkempt but wavy and blond, cascading down my back. I had decided to change up my outfit from the last Dream, this time opting for a pastel pink sundress to match my hat. All in all, I loved the ensemble. The girl looked incredibly cute...and the girl was me.

I stood up, reveling in the sensations that I could only experience within Dreams. Only in these solitary hours could I experience the way the skirt of the dress rippled in the cool breeze, the foreign weight of my breasts and how different their movement was from what I was used to, the flare of my hips, the sound of my voice when I talked, when I whispered, when I laughed and sung…

“Why are you smiling so big?” Tim inquired, joining me at the stream.

“Oh, you know how much I love this place,” I beamed. “Come on, I want to go see that koi pond!”

Tim and I walked side by side along the path, admiring the plethora of plants that surrounded us on all sides. Before long, Tim had taken out his camera and was taking pictures of the flowers, the trees, and the various wildlife we encountered. I grinned to myself as I watched him lean in close to a lily, trying to get a good macro. Tim had always been into photography. It had been his major in school, and his first job had been working as a traveling photographer for a small magazine. It was one of the things that had drawn me to him. In my Dreams I was a painter, so Tim and I could while away hours discussing plans for projects we planned to do in the future.

“Candid!” I heard Tim should from behind me as I bent over to examine some poppies. I heard the shutter click.

“Hey!” I said indignantly, striding over to where he stood, laughing. “Delete that!”

“Aw, come on, it’s a good shot!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I said, pulling his hands down so I could see the picture. I had thought he was trying to catch me making a stupid face (which, I admit, I did rather often). But no...this picture was not like that. I stared at the image of the girl...of myself, leaning over the poppy. My eyes were closed and my face relaxed. I looked utterly content, completely at peace. I admired nearly all of the photos Tim took, but this one touched something deeper inside me. It was the perfect representation of my Dream self, not just in physical looks, but in the way I felt whenever I was in the midst of a Dream. I felt so content here, yet so disconnected. I hated marring my time inside the Dream with thoughts of the real world, but it was nearly impossible not to dwell on looming reality when I could only inhabit the Dream one hour each day. I wanted so desperately to be this girl all the time, to be this girl for real, and this photo reminded me of all that I could not have.

“Hey Cath, you okay?” I felt an arm wrap around my shoulders and pull me into a sideways hug. Only then did I notice the tears sliding down my cheek.

“Oh...yeah, I am,” I said thickly, hastily wiping the tears away. “It’s just...wow, you weren’t kidding. It is a good shot.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever moved anyone to tears before,” Tim mused. “Who knows, maybe I’m maturing as an artist.”

“This from the man who has an entire album devoted to pictures of me making stupid faces,” I laughed.

Click.

“Hey! Did you just take another picture?”

“I couldn’t help it, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up!

The afternoon was lost in laughter. I was glad of the fact that my mind allowed things to happen more quickly than they did in reality. Tim decided that he had enough photos of just the plants and started having me pose so he could practice his portrait photography. One of my favorites was one where he had photographed me between the drooping branches of a weeping willow. After a while my feet began to ache, so we stopped to take a break by a bench facing the lake that marked the middle of the garden.

“We must’ve walked like ten miles today,” I sighed, collapsing on the bench, pulling off my flats, and rubbing the soles of my feet.

“Hey, does something smell to you?” Tim said, giving a theatrical sniff.

“Oh, shut up,” I said, though I could help but crack a smile seeing the look on his face. “Wow…” I whispered, catching sight of the setting sun. It was descending just across the lake, the sky dyed in splendorous shades of pink, yellow, and blue. “You should get a picture of this,” I nodded to Tim, but he shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the descending sun.

“Nah,” he said, settling down next to me. “No picture I take could ever capture the beauty of a sunset like this.”

“Fair enough,” I said softly. Hardly conscious of what I was doing, I leaned into Tim, resting my head on his shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his skin. He felt so alive, so real...but he was, wasn’t he? How could something seem so real and not be real?

“Tim...how many times have we come here together?” I asked, keeping my voice low. The sunset, combined with intimacy of human contact, made this moment feel fragile and sacred, something that I was scared to break, lest I never possess it again.

“I’ve lost count,” he admitted. “But I love it every time we do.”

“Me, too. Everything here is so beautiful...the plants, the sunsets…”

“And you,” he supplied, placing a hand on my waist and pulling me closer to him. A stretch of silence followed as the sun sank almost out of sight, the brilliant sky reflected in the mirror-smooth surface of the lake. I closed my eyes, trying to create a snapshot of that moment that I could take with me, even outside the Dream. The warmth of a summer’s night, the exquisite colors that adorned the heavens, the airiness of the sundress I wore and the feeling of being held by someone I loved, by someone who loved me back…

“Cath?”

“Hmm?” I said, opening my eyes slightly.

“I really don’t tell you enough,” he began, looking me straight in the eyes, “but I am so lucky to have you. Today was incredible...every day with you is. In fact...I never want to spend a day without you.”

Suddenly, he stood up. I gazed at him avidly. I could feel my heart racing faster and faster, anticipation building inside me. My mind, however, was oddly blank, as if it could not process what was happening.

“I hope this isn’t too out of the blue,” he said, and I could hear an edge of nervousness to his voice. “But I want to ask…”

My breath caught in my chest as he knelt to the ground in front of me. From his pocket he slipped a small black velvet box.

“Cathy Johnson,” he said, flipping open the lid to reveal the ring, whose diamonds sparkled in the brilliant light of the dying sun. “Will you marry me?

Everything went black.

Reality crashed over me as the mechanical voice spoke into my ear. “Your session is now over. Please gather your belongings and exit promptly to make room for the next customer.” Gone was the warmth, gone the wonderful moment, shattered like ice. When I had first begun Dreaming two years ago, the returns to reality had not been nearly this bad. However, as I continued to Dream in the same vein, to revisit the same people, to get to know them, even to fall in love with them...the returns had escalated to become nearly unbearable.

I wanted to yell as I stared down at my body, no longer clad in the pink sundress, but donned in baggy jeans and a generic T-shirt of some band that I used to like, but not did not matter anymore. Nothing in reality mattered. All that mattered was the Dream, the place where I was able to live a life I wanted to keep living, where I didn’t dread the interim between visits to the cafe because nothing contained within it brought me any happiness. The Dream, where I didn’t have to return to an empty apartment and spend the nights alone. The Dream, where someone wanted to hold me, wanted to spend the rest of his life with me…

All of this welled up inside me, almost more than I could bear. I wanted to yell, I wanted to tear away the skin I wore, to release Cathy, to be Cathy, for that is who I am. I wanted to sit down in the booth and barricade myself in, so that the time limit didn’t matter and I could Dream for as long as I wanted.

I did none of these things. Instead, I left the booth, bade Mary goodbye, wrapped my scarf around my face, and headed once again into the bitter cold. It was all I could do to tell myself that despite the swirling darkness, there remained the permanent glimmer of light that tomorrow for one hour, for one glorious hour, I would get to be the me I wanted to be.

Twenty-four hours to go.