The tough outer shell bent inward with a shocking dent, and Barry's body was suddenly wrapped by a rebounding dream bubble, slowly being absorbed into it.
He'd made it through—he was in!
Heheheh…
"Let's see what your dream looks like."
Barry's serpent-like body drifted freely through the air, gliding as gracefully as a fish swimming through a current—smooth, effortless, almost poetic.
He was now on the edge of a dream world. Nearby hung a massive sun, shining with a fake glow—real-looking, yet hollow, like a giant light bulb pretending to be divine.
This place was built from the memories and subconscious of the sleeper, following certain physical laws… but only loosely.
After all, even if it were Newton's dream, he could still be flying a coffin through the sky, slapping gravity in the face.
In the dream world, anything was possible—because imagination itself had no limits.
---
The closer Barry moved toward the dream's core, the heavier he felt. Gravity was starting to assert itself. The nearer he got to the dream's master, the more he was bound by that dream's internal "rules."
Unfortunately, his reality-warping ability could only be used by his true self—his body within his own dream.
And that's why, completely unprepared… Barry crashed.
Like a meteor blazing through the sky, flames burst from his falling form. His scales ignited from the friction, revealing straw-like muscle fibers beneath, while his bones vibrated wildly from the impact.
Air whooshed into the hole he'd torn open, inflating his body like a grotesque balloon.
Good news: his fall was slowing down.
Bad news: way too late.
A thunderous crash erupted outside—a strange creature had just fallen from the sky and smashed straight into a fountain, sending up a massive splash.
Meeeooowww!
A shrill cat's scream echoed, then abruptly stopped.
Barry could barely move; his whole body felt dismantled. He was at his limit.
Yet his mind was perfectly clear, detached from his ruined form, calmly assessing the situation.
"Wait… did I just land on something? I could've sworn I heard something scream."
With the last of his strength, Barry rolled over. A furry, soggy… something floated up in the fountain.
"Oh. It's Hakimi. Or… maybe I should say cat pancake."
An orange tabby kitten had been swimming in the fountain—until Barry's "graceful landing" sent it straight to cat heaven.
It wasn't exactly Barry's fault. He fell like a meteor, loud enough to wake the dead. Any cat with common sense should've run for its life. But no—this one stayed put and became an accidental speed bump.
Thus ended Barry's first great expedition into the dream world—with a feline casualty.
He could feel his body breaking apart. Time was running out.
Then, from the doorway, a calm voice said, "You killed my cat. And you broke my fountain."
A little girl stood there, staring at him. No panic. No grief. No pity. Just a flat acknowledgment of property damage.
"Kid, yeah… that was me," Barry admitted. His long, broken neck drooped over the fountain's edge. His mangled, skeletal body floated limply in the water. "So… what now? You want compensation?"
The moment he saw her, Barry knew—she was the dream's owner.
It was hard to believe: such a young girl, so composed in front of a monster. No fear, no tears. Just eerie calm.
"I don't want compensation," she said. "You're dying, right?"
Her name was Emma.
Barry's lifeless eyes confirmed it—he was on his last breath.
"You're a smart little girl," Barry said. "But tell me—why don't you fear me? Kids your age should be screaming right about now."
He wasn't dead yet—not quite. He could still talk for a while, and he wanted to understand the dream's owner.
Surely, anyone whose dream connected with his must be a kind, compassionate soul, right?
But this girl didn't feel that way at all.
If anything, she gave off the same vibe as Jason or Freddy—pure, quiet malice.
It was faint, but unmistakable. That cold indifference toward life itself.
To her, "living things" were no different from pebbles on the street.
Still, Barry didn't want to judge too quickly.
Then—plunk!
A pebble hit him on the head and bounced off his skull. He looked up to see Emma standing there, hand still raised.
"Daddy, help! I'm scared! I'm so scared!" she suddenly cried, eyes filling with tears as she sobbed like a frightened angel.
What the hell?
Right then, Barry felt it—an evil presence seeping from her body.
Not a demon. Not an illusion.
It was her.
A naturally evil child.
"Kid," Barry said slowly, "that's not very nice. Throwing rocks at Uncle Barry? That's not what good kids do. I'm a kind, gentle soul, you know."
Emma's tears stopped instantly. Her face went blank again.
"You told me to do it," she said flatly.
"I did not."
"Doesn't matter. You're dying anyway."
With all fear gone, Emma approached, curiosity sparkling in her eyes as she examined Barry's grotesque form—the blades of bone along his arms, the alien anatomy that defied logic.
"You're ugly," she declared. "But… are those blades real?"
"Ugly, maybe. But gentle," Barry replied. "And yes—they're real. Strong enough to tear an enemy apart."
He could sense it now. That darkness inside her—it wasn't learned. It was grown. Like a seed planted wrong, twisting as it reached for the light.
"Is that so?" Emma tilted her head, stepping closer. "Then you're actually kind of pretty."
Ah, so she liked strength.
People with broken senses of beauty often did. Those who lacked safety in their lives learned to find comfort not in gentleness, but in power.
Or maybe she'd simply given up on normalcy altogether—abandoning emotion for obsession.
Barry wasn't sure. But now, up close, he could see it—the darkness in her heart reflecting into the dream around them.
Because suddenly… he realized the cat wasn't the only thing under the water.
Something else had been crushed beneath him.
Something with a disturbingly familiar feel.
A human body.
Barry's shattered form sank slightly, and a figure slowly floated up from below.
It was a blonde woman in her forties. A gaping wound pierced her chest, the kind made by a blade—completely different from the kitten's flattened remains.
And yet… Barry was sure of one thing.
That body hadn't been there before he landed.
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