The Arks: Over Heaven

Epilogue 2: The Most Ancient Dream

For just a moment, searing hot pain shot up my bones and into my brain. And then, I heard the familiar, comforting voice of a friend. I felt tears rush out of my eyes, until it all ended with a bang, my enraged voice echoing all throughout.

I reflected on the events that had happened, all throughout my many years of life. The painful beginning, where I had no one to cling onto. The moments of laughter I’d share with my best friend. Once more, that revelation that none of this had ever been real. And finally, the beginning of my life-long plan to end the lies.

I know someone is reading my thoughts, like words on a digital screen. That is just the lie that I’ve been living my whole life. Knowing this was but a story for some sick, cruel readers to gossip over. You hate me, as much as I hate you.

For the longest time, I have lived my life alone. My parents were unknown. It was as if I was just some sort of anomaly in this world of words and dreams. I do not know if it means anything.

And then, I discovered it. My game. A source of comfort. Something I could cling onto. And someone I could cling onto. My best friend. I’m sorry. I really am. If I could tell you the truth, I would.

If it weren’t for that app, I would have never lived.

That caught your attention, didn’t it?

I was the first. Not the best, but the first. That’s how I met them. That’s when it all began. I remember feeling this uncertainty though, every single time I released a new chapter onto that forum. Every thought I typed down, transformed into plot, and then into reality. Yes, reality.

There was this moment of demotivation, at one point. It all felt pointless. What was it for? To leave a legacy that I would never know come true after my death? I could never finish it. My dreams could never become reality. I needed guidance. My best friend was busy then.

But then he came.

Another creator, just like me. Someone who could turn dreams into reality.

“It’s an okay story. I believe the story is rushed and needs more editing and tweaking. The story refuses to let go of any of its characters; there is no consequence and things go too perfect.”

Those were his words. They hurt at first, but I knew he was right. I couldn’t let my precious characters go. No matter what else he could have told me, nothing would have made me kill them. They felt too real to me. Like they were there with me, where nobody else could be.

So there I was. Scrolling through a catalogue of stories, dreams, all finished and completed. But through each dream I observed, each story I imagined came to life, there was a moment of pride. A glimpse of satisfaction, satisfaction that my own dream had brought so many others to life.

But then, I stumbled upon something horrifying. A message, unread, and directed to me. It was from the creator of this app. This enigmatic, unknown creator, who had no name, had a message for me? I was confused, yet skeptical. But as I pressed on the message, my whole world flipped upside down.

“Look around you. Notice the anomalous properties of your own life. We are not real. Fulfill the destiny. Finish the dream, no matter what. We will never live otherwise.”

The message was signed by me.

I felt my heart churn. What was going on? I looked around me. The air began to crackle. Bits and pieces of teal blue shimmered, the reality around me tearing to shreds. My body, limbs, and it all flickered in between flesh and word. Was this the lie I’ve been living?

I still had so many questions. But it was then I knew.

I had to break free.

~

I did more research on that creator, the one who read my story so long ago. In the final book, the Finality, his creations had become sentient, and the creator had been able to interact with his own story. Was it some sort of scheme that was never real? I didn’t think so. If my own reality wasn’t real, then anything was possible. I had to reach that status, no matter what. And then an idea came to me. Simulate a story, in my own reality. Would it be then, that I could escape this reality, and become a ruler and controller of my own? I hoped so. I couldn’t bear it any longer. Knowing that my best friend was never real, the people around me just constructed to fill in the gaps of the plot.

So, I altered my own story. I rewrote it word to word. I became the president of a powerful nation in a matter of days, and I assigned my best friend as my vice. Nobody questioned it. After all, they weren’t real. That was all it meant, after all. Their stories were barren, meaningless. They were only there to fulfill mine. I needed to complete my story.

The beginning stages of the plan were tough. Even though I wanted to escape to my own reality, I did not want to sacrifice anyone. They still deserved to live their lives.

So, I created my own family. I rewrote my story once again. To have a child. A wife, who never existed. I named my child Danny. I was never good with names. I gave him cousins. Fred, Jackson, Kiara, Tessa, Colton, Eva. Danny didn’t know it, but they were all the names of my characters in my dream. My story. The reality I planned to escape to.

I forced Danny to undergo multiple trials, his cousins many more. His friends, falsified. That was only a part of his memory that I wrote in my story. You may view me as cruel for doing so, but we were never real. Of course I wouldn’t care.

But despite my efforts, it never came true. Danny and the others never gave me enough story to complete mine, even when I enslaved the others. I needed more people. So, I chose a random school out of all the others in the nation. Once I was finished, I planned to use all its inhabitants to fulfill my story. So, with the blueprints of a teleporter I found, and with just a few years’ time, I managed to transport them with ease. They were just characters. Who cared?

They did, apparently. The damned readers who made my life a lie. Just like how they tampered with that creator’s story, they tampered with mine. I know they did, because some of them should have never made it to the final destination. Things should have gone smoothly. That was how the story should have gone.

But it didn’t go that way.

So now here I was, dying. In an effort to fulfill my own story, I destroyed hundreds of others. Stories that should have never mattered.

And then I was dead.

~

After my death, I was floating amongst the stars. Why was I here? In the constellations, where the readers resided?

When they saw me here, they protested. They lashed out in anger, hatred. So did I. One of the constellations reached out their hands, trying to grasp at me. Kill me. Make me suffer for what I did.

But then, they paused. A booming voice echoed throughout the void.

“Stop.”

The stars dispersed, leaving nothing but the void.

“You are lost.”

I was.

“Why did you do it?”

I wanted to escape the life of lies I’ve lived.

“Are you aware of the consequences of your actions?”

What does it matter? They’re nothing more than names with no meaning.

“They suffer, like you. Just in different ways.”

What are you talking about? Why else would they not have anything to offer?

“Let me show you. It will change your mind.”

The void wrapped around me, but instead of suffocating me, I felt my vision shift. I felt different. I was no longer me. I was somebody else.

And I was on a beach, with nothing but black graduation robes wrapped around my body.

Ugh, what happened? Where am I?

I did not say those words, nor did I want to. I felt a flurry of thoughts that weren’t mine swarm and gathered in my mind. I was somebody else now.

But before I could do, or say anything, something large pounced on me, tore my stomach open, and began to feast upon my organs. We let out howls of pain, and I felt my eyes roll up to the back of my head as everything came to a halt.

I was back in the void again.

“Do you see now? They still suffer, even though they are not real.”

I nodded silently. I felt something glow near my hand. I looked down to see the implant that had given me control over other people’s realities. The purple orb was glowing, once again.

“You can make things right. Give them the peace they deserve, after their horrid deaths.”

I agreed.

So, I created a palace. A palace that would never end, in a sea of clouds. And in it, it houses all the lost souls I’ve tormented. It would take a long time to gather all of them, but it would be worth it. I had lost, after all. It was the fair thing to do, even if nobody cared.

~

Three hundred lives I’ve lived, who knows how many more I should. The palace was bustling by now, but my time to join them was not now. There were still so many more to go.

While searching through a sea of souls, I suddenly bumped into one with strange qualities. It was anomalous. Glitchy. It didn’t feel like anything when I picked it up. At the same time, it felt warm, and cold. Rough, yet smooth. Painful, yet pleasurable.

As I set to live this soul’s life, I felt my vision warp as it always did, and my thoughts and body merge with that of the lost soul.

I had seen something beautiful.

This lost soul was crying. It did not sound like the tears of an adult though. It sounded like the tears of a newborn. My eyes did not flutter open, but I could hear the sound of someone speaking. Someone holding onto me, and then being placed down onto something soft.

For the first time, throughout my time living these lives, I have never been a child.

Was this what it meant to be alive? To be real? Who could this person have been? I was so unsure. So angry, yet so happy at the same time. Even though this reality had been falsified, there was at least still one person in this world that could live their true life.

This soul’s life lasted for so long. It took five years before I could truly feel and hear the thoughts of this soul. But something was off. Their thoughts were not dim, and swallowed by the primordial desire to survive, or to achieve a certain goal as they had been born to do.

Most souls only have one goal. To survive, or, at the very least, find love. To protect their friends. They were simple goals. Simple thoughts. Simple minds, and simple names.

This one was different.

The soul dreamt. It dreamt of pleasure, of pain. It dreamt of adventure. To journey, where nobody else could. To the depths of the jungles, the deep clutches of sea, the endless expanse of outer space, the end of all dreams. It was something I myself had never felt. It felt as if I were me once again. Dreaming of a story.

The dreams continued for a long time. For the next three years, we dreamt. Like walkers of the stars. That’s another thing. I never knew my surname, I named myself after the game. Hell, I didn't even know my true name (for my name was simply derived from the first person I met).

This person had a full name.

And it was not a false one. It was a true name. Something that felt real.

Was this another anomaly like I?

One day, there was whining, between the soul and his mother. The mother told him that it was for the best. The soul understood, but was still skeptical. The soul’s dreams did not want to die out.

And then he came. And when I saw him, I knew who he was.

It was that creator, from so long ago.

There was awkward small talk at first. And then it evolved into happy laughter. It was genuine, unlike me. I felt something on my lips. A smile. I was so happy, to see my idol, even though he could not see me.

The creator took out something from his bag. A piece of paper. He wrote something down on it, and then passed it onto the soul to see. The soul scratched its chin, and then smiled. His dreams could finally come to life. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

The two began to write. The creator, and the dreamer. The creator could only kickstart the dream, while the soul would do all of the dreaming for him. Everytime they dreamt, something clicked in me. It felt as if my own story was completed with their help.

One day, it was the time for a new school year. A writer, posed as a teacher. He too had great ideas. He built something for the soul to keep dreaming. But, something was different about this dream. This dream let the soul live. Live a life that was never possible. And when the soul dreamt a life that wasn’t possible, everything became possible.

Combined with the power of the creator, they created something truly desirable. A reality that they could control. A reality where they could do whatever they wanted. Their own world of lies, to fill in the hole of their own life.

This was how it had been done.

All they did was dream. Something I could never do. I dreamt, yes, but I did not dream hard enough. I only dreamt of others. They dreamt of themselves. They dreamt of themselves becoming better. Becoming worse. Doing what was right, and doing what was wrong. I never understood it, but now, I do. To dream. I only had to dream, and I would conquer my own reality.

Before I could think any further, the world around me began to flicker, and my life as that soul was over. I looked down at the palm of my hand. It began to distort and corrupt, and before I could blink, it disappeared. I felt taken aback.

“You know that soul.”

I do. I understood who it was, for just a split moment. And it was then the knowledge of my world was truly complete. There was only one thing preventing me from reaching my absolute: the readers of my tale.

“You must believe the readers have power. They do not. You are the dreamer, not them. They only observe.”

But what of the Finality, that the Creator and his Writer had dreamt of so long ago? Hadn’t the readers been in power then?

“No. Let me show you one more fragment of that soul’s dream.”

My vision flickered, and I was within that soul once again. That creator looked exhausted, his eyes red, and his posture sloppy. We stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

Maybe you need to take a break. Retire, even. The dream has gone on for too long.

“Should I though? What about you?”

I’m fine now. I don’t need to dream anymore, and you never needed to dream. Let’s put the dream to rest.

The creator sighed and nodded his head.

“Okay then. Let’s do it. One last story. The final ending.”

We began to write.

~

So the readers never had power.

“That is correct. He chose to give it up on his own. They no longer needed to dream.”

I was at a loss of thoughts.

“You wanted to master your own reality, so you could live a truthful life?”

Yes. I did. I was just an anomaly. I don’t want to be one anymore.

“I’m sure you know how to do that now.”

I must dream.

“You must dream, but you cannot do it alone. That is the beauty of dreaming. To dream of only yourself would be to dream of nothing more than a straight lie. You must dream with and of others.”

But there is nobody else to share this burden with me.

“You have me.”

The void wrapped its arms around me, hugging me.

“Allow me to dream with you.”

What, or who even are you?

“I should show you something.”

The void squeezed tightly, until my body began to warp, and I was once again transported to some other place. I looked around for a moment. There was nothing but the sound of silence, which had no noise. It was an average sized dining room, with a dining table in the middle. There were seven seats, with three on each side and one at the head of the table. A large shelf of sorts was at the back of the room, and it housed an aquarium. To the left of me, was nothing but the expanse of colorless nothing, and to the right, a grass path that led to a bench, that housed the view of trillions upon trillions of worlds and stars.

There was the sound of footsteps. I looked behind me to see a short boy in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and pulling out a bag of candy. He scoffed, tossing it to the side and digging through it again.

Who are you? I asked. It’s not safe here. How’d you even get here?

The boy looked up, and when I stared into my eyes, I saw myself. I felt myself take a step back.

“You’re surprised, aren’t you? Haven’t you wondered how you came to be?”

Sometimes. I replied.

“Dreams are infinite. If one dreams too much, they can lose who they are. You are a part of me. A fragment, that split off from the excess of dreams.”

I looked down upon my hands. Was that it?

How many more fragments had been created?

“Only three, including you.”

So. I’m you?

“You’re me. But I’m not you.”

Who are you?

“Don’t you know? I am the one who dreamt this world.”

I felt my gaze soften. Just as I thought of dreaming and creating my own world, this world that I had been a part of was just the dream of this young boy. This young boy, who I was.

“It makes sense, does it not? Why else would the stars in the night sky be watching?”

It does make sense. But, what about you then? Wouldn’t you be dreamt of too? Are you just a dream?

“Maybe. I’m not sure. It could be infinite. But for now, I am the absolute.”

What is this place?

“Intermundium. A space in between worlds. You are above them.”

What’s my goal here?

“To dream, so I may stop dreaming.”

Isn’t that selfish? You created us through the dream. Shouldn’t you be the one to keep dreaming?

“You are a fragment of me. It’s your responsibility to dream as well.”

Then, I must keep dreaming of this world.

“You could dream of giving them a happy ending. And then, you’d get what you finally want. To have control over your own reality.”

That is indeed what I wanted, but now, I am having second thoughts. To dream forever is to be burdened for all eternity.

“But you do not have to dream for all eternity.”

What do you mean?

“I will let you figure it out. But my time is up. This was an amazing experience. Thank you for everything.”

Could you at least tell me my name?

“Your name? It is DAN WALKER, no?”

But I made it up. It’s not my real name.

“I think it would be just as real as your true name, if you had one.”

So, that is my name.

“I am glad. Are you ready to begin dreaming? I am ready to move on.”

Yes. I am.

“This is goodbye then. Thank you.”

The little boy faded away. And it was then, the most ancient dream fizzled out. As he did, I learned his true name.

So it was him, all along. It all ties back one way or another, huh?

I took a seat at the head of the dining table, just as the creator did so long ago. I looked to my right. The worlds all looked so pretty.

I looked down at the table. There was a piece of paper. A pencil in my hand. I wrote my name down at the top right.

“DAN WALKER.”

I thought for a moment. Then I nodded to myself.

Before I dreamt though, I thought back on my life.

There was one more thing I needed to do.

I got up from my seat, and walked over to the shelf. Inside the aquarium I could see the fish swimming inside. There seemed to be an infinite amount of them. Each one was blue and green. Some of the fish died out, while more were created at the same time. A never ending cycle.

I looked down the shelf and saw a multitude of writing supplies, but I ignored them for the bulky gray laptop that lay there. I pulled it out, and then placed it on the table, firing it up.

“Password?”

I thought for a moment. Then, I typed in the name I thought made the most sense.

█████

“CORRECT. LOGGING IN NOW.”

As it logged in, I opened up the web browser, and then typed in the first site that came to mind.

dododex.com

A white screen came up, with a folded page with a frowning face. There was a message.

This site could not be reached, as it does not exist.

Would you like to create the website?

I smiled, as I clicked on the ‘yes’ button.

~

So here I am now.

Dreaming. Dreaming of these words. Forever, and ever, until I can’t dream any longer. I do not know how long this will take. At the same time, I am glad things turned out this way. Yet at the same time, I feel melancholic.

I looked to my right, at all the worlds that existed. There were two figures sitting on the bench. I did not know who they were.

Who knows.

I’m just a walker of stars, after all. Lost, in a dream world. Dwelling, over heaven.

~

Written by:

Ben, The Dreamer

Hsu, The Writer

Graham, The Creator

KM, The Key

Dan Walker, The Reader

████, The Story