“You’re not a Dream Elf.”

 

Malin looked up from his bottles of Dream Essence, his long, silky hair falling back over his shoulders easily. A tiny woman with bright blonde curly hair was standing in front of him, her hands cradling no less than four Nightmare Jars.

 

“You’re going to drop the jars,” he said automatically, reaching out. “Why don’t you just -”

 

The woman twisted away almost violently. “Hands off, Imposter,” she snarled.

 

Malin sighed, looking up at the sky for patience. The soft white clouds scudded across the blue sky, sending shafts of light through the sagging fabric of his tent.

 

“If you’re looking for a night of good sleep, I can help you,” he said, trying to switch back into his salesman personality. “You seem to have captured a lot of nightmares lately, so I can take those off your hands.”

 

“They’re all because of you!” the woman shrieked, and a mass of roiling clouds exploded out of her. Malin hunkered down, instinctively recognizing the power of a true Dream Elf.

 

Oh no, he thought eloquently. I’m in trouble.

 

“You – you imposter, pretending to be Dream Elf and selling people off-brand Dream Essence – you’ve ruined us all!”

 

“Woah, that’s very extreme,” Malin said, standing up indignantly. “My Dream Essence is not off-brand!”

 

“I’ve been chasing down so many nightmares lately, and that’s all because of your faulty batch of Dream Essence,” she insisted, almost losing a grip on one of her jars. Undaunted, she hefted them back up in her arms and continued. “You need to step up and do something before you ruin the reputation of us Dream Elves by dabbling in things you don’t understand!”

 

“Ma’am, you need to calm down,” he said soothingly. “Surely it’s not that bad…?”

 

She fixed him with a sharp, red-eyed gaze, and he gulped. “Four nightmares from children who drank your Dream Essence. Under one roof. In one night. How’s that for bad?”

 

“But what did – how do you know it’s mine?” he whined. His entire business was going to go down the drain if this continued – he could already see the cautious glances being levelled at him from the other salesmen in the marketplace, and at least three people had very awkwardly walked past his stall, eyeing the Dream Elf with cautious confusion.

 

She sighed, slumping as if this conversation was beneath her.

 

“I have found no other record of a Dream Elf in this area,” she admitted. “You’re the only person I’ve found. So it has to be you!”

 

Malin considered the merits of sweeping his bottles into his sack and running, but then he noticed the watchful glint in the Dream Elf’s eye and reluctantly sat back down at his table. The Elf sat opposite him, and it was almost as if the whole market heaved a sigh of relief before returning to their work. The low bustle filled the area once again, and people began to call out their wares, enticing customers who had been scared away by the Elf.

 

“If you’re going to accuse me of doing a shoddy job and scare away my customers, you should tell me your name,” Malin told her. “That’s basic human courtesy.”

 

She squinted at him in suspicion. “You’re not human, you’re a sorcerer and a conman,” she said. “But alright. I’m Dream Willow, and I’m supposed to be in charge of the dreams and nightmares of the lower town. Before someone stepped in with sub-par Dream Essence, of course.”

 

Malin had the good grace to look a little ashamed, and he silently pushed a bottle of Faery Spirit he had been saving for himself towards Dream Willow.

 

“Okay, then, Willow, what do you want me to do about it?” he asked.

 

Dream Willow grabbed the bottle and swigged it in one giant swallow, and then slammed the bottle back on the table. “Come with me and fix this!” she demanded. He winced at the sharp smack of the bottle on the table, looking over apologetically at the other people around them. “Use your stupid magic to find the people who bought the stuff from you, and come with me to actually make it work!”

 

“I’m a businessman, Willow,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Give me one good reason why I should. It’s not going to hurt me in any way, is it, this little mishap? I’ll apologise if they come find me, and that’ll be the end of it.”

 

Willow shook her head violently, her curls bobbing about her face. “The moment you fail to deliver what you promised, it’s the Dream Elves who will suffer. People will stop believing in us because you decided to lie and con them all! Take responsibility for your actions, and come on.”

 

Malin sighed again, already feeling the strain of the conversation seep into his bones. “Will you leave me alone if I do?” he asked. “Like I said, I’m a businessman, and I can’t exactly lose this.”

 

Willow narrowed her eyes, but nodded. “As long as you clear your Dream Essence with us, and we make sure you can’t cause more damage to the name of Dream Elves everywhere.”

 

He stood up with a groan, grabbing his staff and adjusting his cloak over his shoulders. “Lead the way then, Weeping Willow, let’s get this over with.”

 

“That’s not my name!” she shrieked. “And you’re the one who has to lead the way!”

 

Malin really enjoyed riling her up in the time it took them to find out exactly where the first customer who had bought from him lived. They looked up at the house that stood surrounded by neatly manicured lawns, the setting sun throwing its golden light all over them. It should have been an easy, peaceful night, but Malin was reconsidering his decision to help Willow out.

 

He was a big man, and he looked taller and weedier alongside Willow, who was tiny and constantly vibrating with nervous energy. He looked at the little window that she was clambering into with an unimpressed expression on his face.

 

“You want me to get in there?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You can squeeze in, little Elf, but not me.”

 

“You don’t have to,” she called over her shoulder. “Just stay in my eyeline, and you’ll be fine.”

 

Malin sighed – he really had been sighing a ridiculous amount after meeting Dream Willow – and shuffled closer so that she could see him even as she hovered over the woman who was tossing in her sleep.

 

“Is this really alright?” he called. “We’re literally sneaking into her dreams.”

 

“How else do we capture the nightmare?” she asked in return. “Besides, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you!”

 

That’s fair. Malin conceded her point and stepped forward. Willow entered the dreamscape as easily as breathing. One moment he was outside, the next, he was standing in a strangely clear version of the house that lacked depth while retaining all the minute details. It turned his stomach, reminding him of a similar house across the sea, and a figure who sat waiting by the window for her freedom from the land of her dreams. He couldn’t remember the number of times he had wandered through that sharply clear dreamscape, hoping against hope that his presence could summon up more than distant apathy from her.

 

A sudden, muffled scream from behind him made him whirl around, his fist clenching on his staff and rising almost instinctively. A billowing cloud of black and purple poured out of the house, converging on where Willow had been standing barely a moment ago.

 

“Oi, Water Weed!” he shouted, charging towards her. The end of his staff glowed bright blue, and he swept it in front of him, slicing through the cloud. Specks of black and purple filled his mouth, and he coughed, for a moment feeling the ground drop out from under his feet with the sense of drowning in a maelstrom of fear-terror-horror-no-mother, I didn’t abandon you-

 

Malin gritted his teeth and pulled the staff closer to himself, letting the blue light expand, surrounding him in a bubble, the black specks throwing themselves uselessly against its surface. Dream Willow crouched, her hands over her ears while she shivered.

 

“Oi, Water Weed,” he called again, his staff shaking slightly in his hands. “Isn’t this your job? Get the nightmare!”

 

“I’m a beginner!” she cried out, but to her credit, she struggled to her feet, face pale and set in determination. “This woman was really scared of her brother,” she said, pulling out her Nightmare Jar from her fanny pack. “This must be showing her something involving him.”

 

“It’s really strong,” Malin grunted. “Hurry up with whatever you’re doing!”

 

Willow threw him a dirty glance, but hurried up. The moment she opened the jar, the cloud of black and purple coalesced into the figure of a small boy, and was sucked up into the jar. Willow twisted the lid shut, and they both heaved a sigh of relief, peering at the little figure.

 

“This is what she was scared of?” Malin asked, raising a judgmental eyebrow. “It’s so…small.”

 

“All nightmares are small things at first,” Willow said, somberly. “They grow bigger and bigger as you give them power over you. And then one day, you’re at their mercy.”

 

Malin recalled the blank eyes of his mother, watching the receding boat from her window, waiting and watching for a man who would never return. Nightmares took different forms; some people found them in the most mundane lives they ever lived. He blinked, clearing away memories that would serve him no good, and turned to Willow.

 

“Alright then, Little Weed. What’s next?”

 

She glanced around the placid dreamscape, and rummaged in her bag to pull out a bottle of Dream Essence. In the waking world, it looked simply silver and shimmery, but in the dreamscape, it danced with the glimmering sparkles of all the colours of the rainbow. He found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, even as she screwed open the bottle and released it as a fog.

 

“There,” she said proudly, closing the bottle again. “She’ll have the good dreams she paid for, and people won’t really hate us Dream Elves anymore.”

 

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” Malin asked, tapping his foot on the floor. “This was one person amidst the five I remember selling to yesterday.”

 

Willow’s face fell, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “You–you conman!” she exclaimed, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh!”

 

Malin patted her shoulder. “We could have simply apologized at the end of the week,” he said sympathetically. “You’re the one who dragged me into this too, so we should probably keep going before you make me lose more time and business.”

 

She shot him a furious glance, and then –

 

They were out of the dreamscape in a blink, and Malin stumbled, disoriented by the way the building’s details faded back into normalcy and the weird definition on the colours and the light vanished.

 

“We don’t have time,” Willow fretted, looking down at the colourful dial that had been hanging from her fanny pack. “It’s daybreak, and I can’t track any nightmares nearby.” She looked up at him. “I will come find you tonight, and we will work faster, you hear me?”

 

Malin shrugged. “You’re the one who delayed it, Weeping Willow, don’t look at me for this one.”

 

She stomped her foot in indignation, and then vanished in a cloud of grey. Malin sighed, running a hand through his hair and pulling it into a low ponytail at the base of his neck. There wasn’t really anything he could do, not when his business had to be put on hold until Dream Willow let him get back to it, so he found himself at a bit of a loose end.

 

And as always, he found his feet tracing their usual path back to his old house, whose window overlooked the sea.

 

“I’m home, Mother,” he said, pulling off his boots at the door. And as always, there was no reply. She fixed him with her usual blank expression, her mind lost and wandering through a nightmare that never ended. Malin had tried – but it’s hard to wake someone up and convince them that they’re living in a nightmare when their nightmare is a dream that they’ve never let go of. In her dreamscape, his mother wandered with his father, hand in hand, separating, but always coming back. The nightmare was that he always came back, and she always took him back.

 

“I’ll find out if Willow can bring you back,” he said, kneeling at her feet. “So hold on for me, Mama?”

 

Her hands were so soft and wrinkled under his own, and the Dream Essence that settled on him like a soft blanket didn’t quite manage to block out his own lonely dreams.

 

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.  

 

***

 

“Are you really selling off-brand Dream Essence again?” a familiar voice said, and Malin hid a grin as he straightened up, looking down at the blonde head of curly hair that stood atop four feet of pure disapproval.

 

“It’s really not off-brand this time,” he said, and Dream Willow snorted.

 

“Sure, because you stole my recipe!”

 

Malin shrugged, adjusting the rows of bottles filled with shimmering fog. “I was trying to be good to you, Weeping Willow. What’s the problem this time?”

 

Willow sank into the chair beside his table, and balanced her elbows on her knees. “I have a…proposition,” she said, her features curling up in mild distaste. But Malin knew that it was all performative, and there was barely discernible excitement dancing in her eyes. “You want to sell Dream Essence, I don’t want to run around behind a bad batch again.”

 

Malin lifted an eyebrow. “And here I thought you really enjoyed hanging out with me.”

 

Willow glared at him, no heat behind the gesture. “I enjoyed it like you enjoyed hanging off the dragon, conman. Besides, I’m trying to make things better for you, so listen.”

 

Malin mimed zipping up his mouth and throwing away the key. Willow narrowed her eyes, but continued.

 

“My offer is this: I check your entire store of Dream Essence and make sure it’s manufactured according to the standards of the Dream Elves. You give me a cut of the profits. And we find other people like your mother, who are stuck in their nightmares and who need help to find their way back out, and we help them. That’s it.”

 

Malin couldn’t help the soft smile that spread over his face.  “You’re pretty good,” he remarked, crossing his arms. “That’s a good deal for me.”

 

Willow turned bright red, and hid her face in her hands. “I know I have a lot to learn,” she mumbled. “But I learnt a lot while working with you. Don’t make me ask twice, you imposter of a Dream Elf.”

 

Malin laughed, and extended his hand to her. “The pleasure will be mine, little Weed. I look forward to working with you.”

 

Dream Willow peeped out from between her fingers, and then reached out to shake his hand. In the moment between one breath and the next, they settled, comfortable, into each other’s worlds, and somehow, reality and dreams didn’t seem all that different after all.