Malin and Dream Willow fell into a schedule of sorts. During the day, Malin continued to haunt the markets for a hint of anything that could help his mother, and rouse her from the slumber she had fallen into. He visited his own laboratory, checking on the progress of the new batch of Dream Essence that was made based on the recipe he had snuck from Willow’s pouch.
And as soon as dusk began to fall, Dream Willow appeared at his shoulder, her arms filled with the Nightmare Jars and tins of Dream Essence. They would follow Malin’s staff to the nearest customer’s home, and Willow would check for nightmares. If she found one, they would walk into the dreamscape, and figure out a way to break them out.
On one memorable occasion, it involved fighting a dragon.
“Why does it have to be me?” Malin wailed, clutching onto the scaly neck in front of him. His knees tightened on either side of the dragon’s flailing body, holding on for dear life. With all the spinning and the circling and the soaring into the sky, he was beginning to become quite nauseous and green in the face.
“You can keep her occupied!” Willow called from the ground, where she was furiously scribbling something into the dirt. “I’m too small!”
“You – are – a – liar!” Malin managed through being tossed around. “You’re not that small!”
“You’re the conman,” she called back, and Malin considered the merits of just giving up and not helping her anymore. His business could go to hell, and he’d find a different way to wake his mother up.
“I’m ready!” Willow shouted, and Malin snapped back to focus on the way the dragon dropped several feet in the air along with his stomach, coiling through the air and shrinking, until he was barely holding on a couple of feet over the ground. The dragon spun into the Nightmare Jar placed in the middle of Willow’s drawing on the ground, until the lid snapped shut on it, shaking slightly with the force.
“I hate you,” Malin informed her, leaning on his staff and sucking in a deep breath.
“I know,” she replied, scooping up the jar. “Can you handle the fires?”
Malin spotted a couple of terrified eyes peeping out from behind a small hut while the flames of the dragon continued to burn merrily along the dreamscape. Sighing, he held out his staff, and the tip glowed a bright blue. Powdery snow descended onto their heads, fizzling and hissing as it touched the fire and put it out. The little girl crept out from where he was hiding, and threw herself at Malin’s knees.
“Thank you!” she chirped, and Malin froze.
What are the rules of interacting within a dream? He thought frantically. Surely –
But Willow was looking at him with soft eyes, so he crouched down to the girl’s height.
“Were you very scared?” he asked carefully. She nodded, her fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak where it fell over his arm. “It’s alright,” he said, and for once, he actually meant it. “Nightmares are scary when you see them be so big, but at the end of the day, they’re really small and harmless, you know.” He showed her the Nightmare Jar, and she peered in curiously at the dragon that spun in furious circles.
“I’ll be brave, just like you,” she declared, and Malin felt his heart warm. There was a strange irony to his words – that someone who was so stuck within his own fears and his own nightmares could inspire another person to be brave, but maybe it was time for him to face his own demons.
The moment they exited the little girl’s dreamscape, Malin watched her sleeping figure, the lines of tension swept away from her forehead as she curled up around her blanket. He remembered the grip of her hand on his, and wondered, for a moment, if he was too old to long for the hold of someone who could protect him and shield him too.
“Shall we move on?” Willow asked quietly, zipping the Nightmare Jar up in her fanny pack. “We’re running out of time.”
Malin nodded wordlessly. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
They ended the night slumped over Malin’s table in the market area, thankfully empty at that hour.
“You’re not that bad,” Willow said grudgingly, pulling out her own hip flask and passing it over to Malin, who barely moved from his position face-down on the table to take it. “You were nice to the kid.”
“I’m a conman, like you said,” he mumbled. “I lied to her.”
“You didn’t,” Willow said, leaning forward. “You never lie inside dreams. There’s more to you than just a crooked seller of off-brand Dream Essence.”
“It’s not off-brand,” Malin said, only half-heartedly. “I did whatever I could to make it work.”
“Whose dreams are you trying to fix, Malin?” she asked, and that got him to sit up. It was the first time she had called him by his name. “What’s the reason you’re doing this?”
For a moment, Malin considered lying. He considered pretending like he was nothing more than the conman she had seen him as in the beginning. But they had grown closer over the days, working together. He couldn’t bring himself to lie.
“I’m trying to free my mother from her dream,” he admitted, tracing circles on the table. “It’s been years since – since my father left us. He – he wasn’t the best, but she’s stuck in a dream where he keeps coming back, and she gets to be with him.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Willow asked gently. “People live in dreams all the time, Malin. Some people take the happiness wherever they can find it, so -”
“What about me?” Malin asked, hating the way his voice shook. “What am I supposed to do when she just won’t wake up, when she keeps letting herself get hurt?”
Willow was silent for a moment. “May I -” she began.
“Can you -” Malin started. She paused, letting him continue. “Do you think you could make her wake up?”
Dream Willow glanced at her dial. “The night is over, so it might be hard. Does she always stay in her dreamscape?”
Malin nodded. “For years, now. I’ve – I’ve been in there, and it’s always the same, so, come on, Willow, can you -”
She sighed. “Come on. One last stop.”
Malin tried to tamp down on the rising hope in his chest, but he couldn’t stop wondering if he would finally be able to talk to his mother, and have her respond to him, see him, hear him once more.
She was sitting in her usual chair, staring sightlessly at the sea that lapped at the beach outside the window. Willow stepped up to her, and laid a soft hand on her forehead. Malin crouched beside her chair, clutching her hands tightly, as if the physical touch would anchor both him and her to a world that she was running from and he was clinging to.
Willow’s hands began to smoke, and the silvery-grey fog he had seen the first day he met her erupted around her, winding itself around the three of them.
“Willow, what -”
“Wake up,” Willow said, her voice echoing and repeating over itself. “Stop running.”
Malin’s mother sucked in a sharp breath, and he nearly stopped breathing at the sudden action.
“Talk to her,” Willow instructed. “Remind her that there is a world waiting for her outside these dreams that she has been hiding in. Remind her that giving nightmares power over her will not help her live.”
Malin remembered the little girl looking up at him with wide, excited eyes, and tightened his grip on his mother.
“Mama, I’m here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m here, and I’ve been waiting for so long, just for one person to see me, to hear me, to – to talk to me, but -” He couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in his eyes at the overwhelming wave of loneliness that washed over him.
“Please stop living in your dreams, Mama,” Malin sobbed, leaning his forehead on her knees. “Please stop leaving me to live in a nightmare without you.”
She shifted, and Willow stepped back, lifting her hands off his mother’s head. Malin froze, not daring to believe that it had really happened. That Willow had helped him, had cured his own lasting nightmare after so many years of living with it.
His mother’s hand moved slowly, running through the silky strands of his hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I left you all alone, Malin.” He looked up at her, at the tears that slowly pooled in the wrinkles that lined her cheeks from eyes that were finally clear and focused on him.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malin saw Dream Willow slip away, quietly, unobtrusively. He made a mental note to thank her, show her how much this single thing had meant to him. But in the moment, he allowed himself to cry. He allowed himself to accept that finally, his long nightmare had come to an end.
For the first time in a long while, Malin didn’t need his own bottle of Dream Essence to guide him to peaceful sleep.
Sreepriya Ramesh 
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