Chapter Text
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to people living or dead in your world are coincidental.
This world is a dream.
Your footsteps echo as you walk through the empty halls. An archway leads you to a small garden with a long table in the middle. Slowly, you approach the foot of it.
At the head of the table sits a figure. Their head is tilted down, a large top hat upon their head and casting a shadow over their eyes. In front of them sits a teacup, their hands wrapped around it. You know this person; you’ve met them here plenty of times before. Yet, just like every other meeting, the figure gives you no name to call them by.
They ask how your day has been. They ask about what dreams you have. They ask if anything bothers you.
You tell them you are moving, just for the year. They ask if you are excited. They ask if you are scared.
When you answer all their questions, they tell you to wake up.
You do.