Chapter 2 A Dream Left Open

The app didn't exist.

That was Ava's first thought when she searched her phone the next morning. No trace of the crescent-moon icon. No installed files under Settings. Not even in her recent activity. But she had seen it-LucidLink Installed. Welcome, Dreamweaver.

She hadn't imagined that.

Sleep-deprived and jumpy, she sat at her desk and stared at her phone like it was a ticking bomb. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, and her hand still shook as she sipped lukewarm coffee from a chipped mug that read "Introverts Unite-Separately in Our Own Homes." The dream hadn't faded like most. It stuck with her-vivid, fresh, detailed in a way dreams had never been before. The hallway. The strange boy. The message.

You're not ready yet.

She opened her laptop and typed "LucidLink Dreamweaver app" into the search bar. Dozens of results appeared, mostly sci-fi fanfiction and a few sketchy downloads claiming to help "boost lucid dreaming." None matched the logo she'd seen. No official site. No Reddit threads. Nothing.

Frustrated, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her temples. A soft ping came from her phone. Her heart leapt.

A message.

From: Unknown Number

Subject: Open Your Eyes

> We see you. You're awake now. Meet me tonight. 12:03 AM. Under the bridge at Sycamore Creek. Come alone.

-L

Ava stared at the message. The "L" jolted her memory-the username from that old forum. The one who'd warned her. Who replied... then vanished.

"Meet me?"

Under a bridge? At midnight?

She tossed the phone on her bed and paced her room. Sycamore Creek wasn't far-it ran under a trail behind the park, a ten-minute walk from her house. The bridge itself was old, mostly used by dog walkers and kids with skateboards during the day. At night? It was empty. Remote. Creepy.

Exactly the kind of place her mother would've freaked out about.

Her eyes drifted to the closet mirror. She looked tired-like really tired. Pale skin, shadows under her eyes, hair in a messy bun she hadn't even bothered brushing out. But there was something else in her reflection. Her eyes looked... different. Sharper. Focused in a way she hadn't felt in months.

Whatever this was-it wasn't just a dream anymore.

She needed answers.

And somehow, she knew she wasn't going to find them online.

---

At 11:45 PM, Ava slipped out her back door with a hoodie zipped up to her neck and pepper spray in her pocket, just in case. The streets were silent, painted in silver moonlight and broken by the occasional rustle of leaves. Her sneakers barely made a sound as she moved across the sidewalk.

Sycamore Creek was even darker than she remembered. The trail sloped downward toward the small wooden bridge that crossed the narrow stream. A single lamppost flickered at the top of the hill, casting a weak yellow glow.

She hesitated at the edge of the bridge.

Nothing.

No one.

Then-movement.

From the shadows beneath the bridge, a figure stepped forward.

It was the boy from her dream.

Same hoodie. Same pale skin. Same unreadable expression. He looked even younger in the moonlight-like he could've been a college freshman or a high school senior skipping class.

"You came," he said.

Ava took a cautious step forward. "Who are you?"

He tilted his head. "You saw the door."

"You sent the message."

"I did."

Silence stretched between them, thick with questions.

Finally, Ava crossed her arms. "What is happening to me? Why can't I stop dreaming that hallway? And who-or what-is that thing blocking the door?"

The boy's gaze hardened. "That thing is the Hollow. And it means your time is running out."

Ava blinked. "My time? For what?"

He stepped closer. "You've awakened. You're a Dreamweaver now. Like me. Like the ones before us. It means you've started to see what lies beneath dreams-the real world hidden behind imagination."

"This sounds like a movie," she said.

"It's more real than anything you've known. Dreams aren't just pictures in your head. They're spaces. Doors. Worlds. Some people drift through them. Some create. And some... steal."

Ava tried to process that. "You said I'm a Dreamweaver. What does that mean exactly?"

"It means you can shape dreams. Influence them. Walk through them with purpose. And now... you're being hunted for it."

"Hunted?"

He nodded. "The Hollow feeds on Dreamweavers. It traps them between sleep and shadow. If it pulls you in before you open your door-before you truly connect-you vanish."

A chill danced down her spine. "Vanish like... Jasmine?"

He looked at her for a long, silent beat. Then nodded. "I saw her. Two days ago. In the in-between. She's stuck. Half-awake, half-dreaming. Like many others. The Hollow caught her just before she could unlock herself."

Ava felt her knees go weak. She leaned against the railing of the bridge. "Then I have to save her."

"You can't-not yet," he said quickly. "If you enter the dreamscape before you're ready, the Hollow will trap you too."

"Then what do I need?"

He pulled a small, glowing object from his pocket-a glass disc the size of a coin, etched with symbols. "This is a Lucid Key. Every Dreamweaver must craft their own. It anchors you to the waking world while allowing you to cross the veil safely."

Ava reached for it, but he pulled his hand back. "This one's mine. You need to make your own. That's what I'm here to help you do."

She frowned. "How?"

"You train. You learn to shape dreams. Defend yourself. Build memory structures. Forge clarity. When you're ready, your mind will create a Lucid Key on its own."

"How long does that take?"

"That depends on you. But we don't have much time. The Hollow can sense new Weavers."

Ava looked down at her hands. She didn't feel like a magical anything. She still didn't even understand why this was happening to her. "Why me?"

He looked at her, eyes almost sad. "Because you remembered. Most people don't. But you saw the dream... and it saw you back."

---

Over the next week, Ava's world transformed.

She continued her regular life-school, pretending to focus on homework, dodging questions from teachers about Jasmine's sudden transfer-but each night, she met the boy under the bridge, and he guided her through dream training.

His name, she learned, was Leo.

He'd been awakened three years ago, after his older brother vanished without a trace. The police had said it was suicide. But Leo had found dream journals. Drawings of doors. Notes scrawled about a monster made of static. It had led him to LucidLink. To the hidden world. To the Hollow.

Now, he was one of the last active Dreamweavers left.

The others? Missing. Caught. Erased.

Their training sessions took place in shared dreams-a skill Leo taught her on night three. With the LucidLink symbol on her wrist like an invisible tattoo (it only appeared in dreams), Ava learned to summon memory anchors: a childhood bedroom, her old dog Buddy, the scent of cinnamon toast. Each one helped ground her during training.

She learned to recognize when she was dreaming: digital clocks that never stayed still. Light switches that didn't work. Books with endless blank pages.

Leo showed her how to shift the dream environment. "Start small," he said. "Change the color of the sky. Summon an object. Make a wall disappear."

The first time she tried, she blinked and turned the dream's cloudy sky a deep violet. Her heart soared.

"You're a natural," Leo said, watching her with quiet awe.

But each success came with consequences.

The Hollow sensed her presence.

And it was coming closer.