The Dream Guardian

Duncan had always been a vivid dreamer, but she'd never fallen through her bedroom floor before.

One moment she was lying in bed, drifting off to sleep after a particularly exhausting day at the bookstore where she worked. The next, she was tumbling through swirling colors and impossible geometries, her stomach lurching as gravity became a suggestion rather than a rule.

She landed with surprising gentleness on a surface that felt like clouds but held her weight like solid ground. Around her stretched a vast landscape that defied logic—crystalline forests grew beside oceans of liquid starlight, while mountains floated upside down in a sky painted with aurora colors.

"Finally," said a voice behind her. "We were beginning to worry you'd never find your way here."

Duncan spun around to see a woman approaching, her appearance shifting subtly with each step. Sometimes she looked young, sometimes old, her clothes flowing between modern dress and ancient robes. Only her eyes remained constant—deep silver, like mirrors reflecting infinite depths.

"Where am I?" Duncan asked, surprised by how calm she sounded. This felt like a dream, but more real than any dream she'd ever experienced.

"The Threshold," the woman replied. "The space between all sleeping minds. I'm Morphea, and I've been waiting a very long time to meet you, Duncan."

"How do you know my name?"

Morphea smiled, and for a moment her face settled into that of a kindly grandmother. "Because you're one of us. A Dream Guardian. Though you've been dormant far longer than most."

"Dream Guardian?" Duncan looked around at the impossible landscape. "This is just a dream, right? I'll wake up soon?"

"This is a dream," Morphea agreed, "but not just any dream. This is the place where all dreams connect, where the sleeping minds of the world touch one another. And yes, you'll wake up—but first, you need to understand what you are."

She gestured, and the ground beneath them became transparent. Below, Duncan could see countless threads of light stretching in all directions, each one pulsing with different colors and rhythms.

"Every thread is a dreamer," Morphea explained. "Seven billion people sleep tonight, and their dreams flow through this place. Most remain safely within their own minds, but some..." She pointed to several threads that had grown dark and tangled. "Some are at risk of becoming Unaware Sleepers."

"What does that mean?"

Morphea's expression grew grave. "When someone becomes so lost in their dreams that they forget they're dreaming, they can become trapped. Their consciousness sinks so deep into sleep that they may never wake up. Their bodies live, but their minds become prisoners of their own subconscious."

Duncan watched in horror as one of the darkened threads began to fray. "That's terrible. But what can I do about it?"

"Everything." Morphea extended her hand. "Touch the thread."

Against her better judgment, Duncan reached down and grasped the dark strand. Immediately, the world around her shifted, and she found herself standing in what appeared to be a child's bedroom. A little boy, perhaps six years old, sat in the corner, surrounded by towering shadows that whispered cruel words.

"He's been having the same nightmare for weeks," Morphea's voice echoed around her. "Each time, he sinks deeper. Soon, he won't remember that the shadows aren't real."

Without thinking, Duncan stepped forward. "Hey," she called to the boy. "What are those shadows saying to you?"

The child looked up with tear-filled eyes. "They say I'm not good enough. That nobody likes me. That I should just stay here where it's safe."

Duncan knelt beside him. "Do you know what this is?"

"My room?"

"No," Duncan said gently. "This is a dream. Your dream. And in dreams, you have more power than any shadow." She stood and faced the whispering darkness. "These aren't real. They're just your fears, and fears can't hurt you unless you let them."

The shadows recoiled slightly, their whispers growing less certain.

"I don't understand," the boy said.

"Watch." Duncan held out her hand, and to her amazement, light began to flow from her fingers. The shadows shrieked and began to dissolve. "In dreams, you can be anything, do anything. These shadows only have power because you're afraid of them. But they're just thoughts, and you control your thoughts."

The boy stood up slowly. "I can make them go away?"

"You can. But more than that—you can remember this is a dream. And when you remember you're dreaming, you can choose to wake up, or you can choose to change the dream into something better."

The child's face lit up with understanding. The shadows completely disappeared, and the room transformed into a bright playground. "I remember now," he said. "I'm sleeping. This is my dream."

Duncan felt a warm sensation flow through her as the boy's thread brightened and stabilized. Around her, the dream playground began to fade as the child took control of his own sleeping mind.

She found herself back in the Threshold with Morphea, who was beaming with pride.

"How did I do that?" Duncan asked, staring at her hands.

"You reminded him of his own power," Morphea said. "That's what Dream Guardians do. We don't force people to wake up or change their dreams—we help them remember that they have the ability to do it themselves. We guide them back to awareness."

"But why me? I'm nobody special. I just work in a bookstore."

Morphea laughed, a sound like silver bells. "Duncan, you've been doing this your whole life without realizing it. Haven't you always been the one friends come to when they've had nightmares? Haven't you always known exactly what to say to help someone see their problems differently?"

Duncan thought about it. Her coworker Sarah, who'd been trapped in anxiety spirals until Duncan helped her reframe her thoughts. Her neighbor Mrs. Chen, whose insomnia had improved after Duncan taught her visualization techniques. Her little brother, whose childhood fears had vanished after Duncan showed him how to imagine himself as a superhero.

"It was always about dreams, wasn't it?" Duncan realized.

"Dreams, thoughts, the stories we tell ourselves—it's all connected. You've been a guardian in the waking world. Now you can be one here too, where the need is greatest."

Morphea gestured to the threads below them. Several more had grown dark while they'd talked.

"There are so few of us," Morphea continued, "and so many who need help. Every night, people risk losing themselves in their fears, their traumas, their despair. They forget they have power over their own minds. They need reminding."

Duncan looked at the countless threads, seeing the beauty and the danger in equal measure. "What happens if I say yes?"

"You'll live two lives—one in the waking world, one here in the Threshold. When you sleep, you'll patrol the dreamscape, finding those who are lost and helping them remember who they are. It's not easy work, and it can be lonely."

"And if I say no?"

"You'll wake up thinking this was just a strange dream. You'll go back to your normal life. And somewhere tonight, a child will become lost in nightmares, never to wake up."

Duncan closed her eyes and felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. It was enormous, perhaps impossible. But when she opened her eyes and saw the threads—all those sleeping minds trusting in the safety of dreams—she knew there was only one answer she could give.

"Tell me what I need to know."

Morphea's smile could have lit the entire Threshold. "First, you need to understand that every person's mind is different. Some will be trapped by fear, others by guilt, still others by false hopes that keep them from facing reality. Your job is to meet them where they are and guide them toward awareness—of who they are, of their own power, of the fact that they're dreaming."

"How will I find them?"

"You'll feel them—a tugging sensation when someone is in danger of becoming Unaware. Trust that feeling. And Duncan?" Morphea's expression grew serious. "Remember that you can only guide. You cannot force someone to wake up or to change their dream. The choice must always be theirs."

Duncan nodded. "I understand."

"Good. Now, your training begins. There are three more sleepers tonight who need our help."

As they moved toward the first darkened thread, Duncan felt a sense of purpose she'd never experienced before. She was exactly where she was meant to be.

The dream world stretched endlessly around them, full of wonder and terror, hope and despair. Somewhere in the distance, she could sense the sleeping minds of the world, each one a story waiting to be told, a dreamer waiting to be reminded of their own power.

Duncan smiled as she reached for the next thread. She had work to do.

And for the first time in her life, she knew exactly who she was meant to be.

When she woke in her own bed the next morning, the memory of the Threshold remained vivid and clear. On her nightstand sat a small silver pendant she'd never seen before—a reminder that some dreams are more real than waking life.

That night, when she closed her eyes, she didn't fall through her bedroom floor. Instead, she stepped purposefully into the space between worlds, ready to help the lost find their way home to themselves.

The Dream Guardian had awakened.