CHAPTER 1: Welcome to Alchemy Academy

Author's Note: A week prior to writing this story I had a lucid dream in which I encountered the name Kent. I woke up saying the name, and for a week wondered why it was lodged in my brain.

I looked everywhere in my waking life for Kent to turn up, to no avail. Finally, for no other reason than to make use of the name that graced my dreams, I began composing this story.

On the evening after nearing the completion of my first draft, I lay in bed and request Alexa to play reading music. A classical playlist is launched, lulling me into a nearly immediate slumber.

But before I could completely doze off, an ominous cello + violin riff roused me awake. My eyes popped open, and I reached for my phone to Shazam the song before it ended.

To my utter shock, the composer was none other than Julia Kent.

I couldn't believe it. But then again, I could.

Dreams are like mystical mirrors that illuminate what's possible. They surpass the boundaries of reason that define our waking life, and allow us to play in our imaginations.

I feel privileged to have experienced the mystery + magic of dreams while writing this story, and I hope it awakens the courage to wonder, in whoever reads it.

For an immersive experience, I invite you to play Juila Kent's hauntingly beautiful song as you read. Its delightfully mysterious melody orchestrated the scenes as I wrote them, and I'm certain they'll come alive when experienced in unison.

With your joy in mind,

- mystery maven.

CHAPTER 1 : Welcome to Alchemy Academy

My name is Sydney Sandiego.

By day, I'm a professor or philosophy. By night, in a very literal sense, I'm the headmistress of Alchemy Academy.

I never knew such a place existed, so imagine my surprise when I was invited to run a night school for lucid dreamers.

I accepted the offer 48 hours ago.

A condition of holding this position is that I chronicle my experience for future recruits, and document my process building the curriculum.

Whenever I start a new log, I usually pick up where I left off in my old one, without so much an introduction or transition.

But this is different. A lot has happened to lead me here, and I feel like I owe you a back story. Some semblance of context to prepare you for what is beginning to unfold. For what you'll soon be experiencing too.

It all began with a recurring dream I started having about a week ago. One that became increasingly detailed with each passing night:

i'm sitting at a desk.

surrounded by darkness.

i'm writing furiously.

my pen never leaves the page.

i'm lost in time.

At first, I shrugged it off as a response from my repressed desire to work on my novel. Between teaching and research, all of my creative energy had been sapped. It made sense that my urge to write for myself would manifest as a dream.

But it persisted.

Except, by the Night 6, instead of writing in a notebook, I was typing at a laptop:

i close my eyes and relax

my fingers dance across the keys

in the same manner as a pianist

composing her masterpiece

it's freedom.

it's beauty.

it's truth.

it's love.

On Night 7, I'm headed home from giving an evening lecture. I'm the only person waiting at the bus stop, noticeably odd for the hour, when a tall woman begins approaching. She seems to glide towards me, carrying a large black cello case.

She places it on the ground in front of the bench, and sits down next to me.

Her gaze fixed forward, we sit in silence for what feels like an eternity.

"Hello...?"

I say the word half statement, half question.

"Hello Sydney."

The woman responds without looking at me.

I swallow, and ask the cliché question they always ask in the movies.

"How do you know my name?"

The woman doesn't answer.

Instead, she leans forward to open the hard-shell cello case on the ground. As she unlatches it, I crane my neck to steal a glance of the majestic instrument I've always secretly wanted to play. But there is no cello inside.

The interior is lined with lush blood-red velvet. She reaches towards a pocket inside the case, and retrieves a small black notebook.

Caressing it with care, she says:

"To whom much is given, much will be required."

She extends the notebook towards me. It seems to pulsate the moment it touches my hands.

Engraved on the the cover were the words:

ALCHEMY ACADEMY

I feel a warmth begin to envelope me. I can't help but close my eyes to bask in the euphoric sensation. I feel like I was being held by an unseen but palpable benevolent presence. I inhale deeply, overwhelmed by the sensation overtaking my body.

The vibration moves from my fingers, up towards my arms. I feel the warmth spread to my chest before a surge of energy penetrates every cell in my body.

My face grows hot as I feel myself reaching an apex of pleasure.

"Welcome to Alchemy Academy, Sydney. Your training on-boarding tonight."

I can barely hear the woman's voice through my own shallow breath.

Self-conscious of my reverie, my eyes shoot open, but the woman has vanished.

And I am no longer at the bus stop. I am sitting at the desk from my dreams. Except, somehow I know this isn't a dream.

I can feel the coolness of the polished mahogany wood. I can smell the leather of my newly minted notebook. My ears are still hot, and I can feel my pulse slowing as it returns to a resting rate.

This is real.

I think to myself. And then a new realization kicks in: aside from my desk + notebook, I can't see a thing.

My eyes widen.

The inky blackness of my recurring dream-world is even more visceral now.

I blink vigorously because I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed.

I reach for my other senses.

Attempting to penetrate the quiet, I hitch my breath in an audible inhale.

My exhale is instantly absorbed by the darkness.

It's so dense, so deafening, the urge to panic is tempting.

"Where am I?"

I hear myself ask the darkness.

I already knew the answer without waiting for a response.

I stop searching for the rafters of my senses, close my eyes, and let my mind fade into the void.

When I open them, I'm back in my bedroom awakening to the familiar chime of my iPhone. I survey my surroundings, observing how everything looks the same, but somehow different.

I cannot deny that everything I had just experienced was real.

The notification alert chimes again, and I roll over to find my phone. A notification reads:

Today's Sleep Stipend has deposited into your account.

I scroll to my App Library, and find an icon that wasn't there before.

I tap it, and am prompted to login to the account with my thumbprint.

Upon launching, I notice I have one unread message:

Greetings Sydney,

Welcome to Alchemy Academy. We are pleased to have you on board. As discussed at last night's presentation, the Dream Council is requesting a proposal for the upcoming seminar Dreams: Cinema of the Subconscious.

To compensate for working for working on this proposal during Waking Life, please redeem your Sleep Stipend for instant Energy + Time renewal.

143,64.192 Joules (J) have been deposited into your account at an exchange rate of 20,000 US Dollars (USD).

IMPORTANT: This is your daily allotment, and any amount that is not redeemed will be automatically transferred to your checking account.

If you have any questions, please write them in your ALCHEMY ACADEMY notebook. An answer will appear to you within 11 seconds of your transcription.

Thank you again for your time. We look forward to reading your proposal.

Work smoothly,

Kent A. Moore | Dean of the Dream Council

Moments before writing this log, I submitted my proposal to the council. A brief treatise on Time. They'll inform me of their decision to accept it by Monday.

I don't know what will become of this. I'm still processing everything, and I'm can't be 100% certain that I'm not going insane. But I do know one thing for sure.

"To whom much is given, much will be required."

--

I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter of the Staryder Chronicles. Want to know what happens next? Please like this story or leave a tip to let me know you'd like me to continue writing.