by K M Frost
It takes my eyes a minute to adjust to the light, (which I realize isn’t as bright as I’d first thought). But even though I can see now, I don’t feel any more assured or any less confused.
The room is huge—larger than any place I’ve ever been—with the ceiling reaching up probably as high as the mountain itself. All the way up there, I can make out lights that must be very bright if they can illuminate the floor so far below. The walls are so far apart it’s almost hard to see them clearly.
But the oddest thing about the room are the endless rows of motionless people.
There are simple metal beds everywhere I can see, the rows stretching on without end. I have no idea how many there are—probably thousands, maybe millions. The people are all unmoving and silent, each clad in a generic white one-piece suit, just like the ones we all used to wear. Seeing that familiar suit gives me chills.
“There you are!” Stewart calls suddenly. His voice echoes dully in the enormous room and makes me jump.
He’s a few yards away, taking in the incredible and unnatural sight before us. He joins us with a toothy grin, eyes wide with awe. “Did you see all the people?”
How could we have missed them?
Rick and Leah are still too shocked to say anything, and my mind is blank, so his question is met with silence.
Stew doesn’t seem to mind, and with an excited grin he goes running off again.
We stand there another minute, then Rick starts to lead us slowly forward. Leah and I follow mechanically.
Though there’s something terrifying and unnatural about this place, there’s also something strangely compelling, almost . . . familiar.
Countless faces drift past while we walk. There are so many people. I see people of all different ages—from no more than nine to well over ninety. There are people of all complexions, too—dark, fair, olive, bronze.
I try to take it all in, even though I don’t understand it, but I can feel myself getting overwhelmed by the sheer number of still bodies.
Are they dead?
If so, what killed them, and why are they all laid out like this?
A closer look assures me they are breathing—just very shallowly and slowly.
Distantly, I notice there are a few empty beds—though only a few—and I wonder what happened to the missing occupants. A part of me begins to wonder—nervously—if they’re walking around, ready to attack or kill any intruders in this strange shrine.
But we keep walking and nothing moves.
We’ve been walking past so many blank faces, it all becomes something of a blur and I’m no longer distinguishing faces—until I recognize one.
I stop walking in an instant.
All I can do is stare at that face I know so well, as my whole life—my entire world—flips completely upside down and is turned wildly inside out.
Suddenly, so many things make sense—and then I have a million questions. Something clicks in my mind, and everything falls into place like an intricate and very complex puzzle.
And though it seems totally impossible, I know it’s true: the Reality Dreams are real, and reality is a lie.
I stare at that face and I realize everything I’ve ever known and believed is wrong.
And then it makes sense—why the Reality Dreams affect us in both worlds, but ‘reality’ is contained. This world is real, and that is the dream.
“Jonas?” Rick’s voice sounds worried and distant. “What is it?”
All I can do is point at the face in front of me and croak, “It’s my sister, Ellie.”
Sneak Peek at “Sleeping World” book 2 of The Reality Dreamers Trilogy
Chapter 1
A huge room, lights far away. Rows of sleeping, nameless people. I walk through the sea of stillness, faces blurred and indistinct. My mind is racing with world-shattering thoughts, twisting my mind and changing my life.
Then I see her face.
She looks peaceful, but the image is out of place. My sister should be at home in bed, not lying in this cavernous tomb. If she’s here, are the others, too? How many of these stoic people do I know?
I’m staring at her face, like I have so many times before, but she doesn’t move . . .
She doesn’t move—and then she speaks.
“Jonas!”
I felt my body jerk in response to the sound of my sister calling my name, and the vision faded away.
My mind had not stopped spinning since the moment when I’d seen Ellie in the Reality Dreams, and not even school could distract me.
I looked around the schoolyard in a daze. The sun was bright and warm—almost uncomfortably so. And there was Ellie, running toward me, long brown braids trailing behind her. She was grinning and very much alive.
Ellie landed on her knees beside me in the grass. “Hey, Jonas. Where’s Leah?”
I forced a smile. “She said her dad excused her for something today. But she’ll be back tomorrow.”
I’d been surprised when Leah had met me at the door to the school that morning, looking upset. I’d asked her what was wrong, but she’d just said she had to do something with her dad, and she wouldn’t be at school today.
Ellie pouted. “Now who am I gonna talk to?”
I snorted. “Well, thanks . . .”
She rolled her eyes. “Jonas, you’re my brother. It’s not the same. Leah and I . . . we can talk about anything.”
“Try me.”
My sister raised a skeptical eyebrow, but she settled deeper into the grass. “Alright. Well, there’s this boy in my class named Kyle, and he’s really nice. But whenever I try to talk to him, Lisa McCott interrupts and makes him ignore me. What should I do?”
I was surprised by the abrupt question, and when she looked up at me expectantly, my mind went blank. “I, well . . .”
Ellie sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
I frowned. “Hey, just because I can’t help you out with something like that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me.”
She just shook her head. “It’s not the same.”
“Well, that’s not very fair.” I frowned. “Come on, let me try another one.”
“No. I have a better idea.”
“What idea?”
Rather than answering, she suddenly lunged at me and tackled me to the ground. Before I could do much more than say hey, she jumped up and ran away, shouting “You’re it!” over her shoulder.
I rolled to my feet and chased her down, relieved. I much preferred chasing my little sister to answering her ‘boy questions’. Why does she even care? I wondered and reached out to grab Ellie, then pulled back at the last second.
She screamed happily and changed course.
She was only nine after all—why did she care about a boy’s attention?
I tried not to let the thought bother me too much, and just enjoyed chasing her around the schoolyard until the chime rang a few minutes later, calling us all back inside.
“See?” I said as Ellie and I hurried to grab our book bags and then walked back to the schoolhouse. “I’m not completely worthless.”
Ellie grinned, still breathing hard from our game. “Yeah, I guess you’re pretty cool. For a brother.” And with that, she ran past me to join her friends at the door.
I watched her go and felt my smile fade as my mind returned once again to last night’s discovery. How could this all be fake? Ellie was definitely real. My family couldn’t be a dream, could they?
But then I reminded myself that I’d seen Ellie in the Reality Dreams. So even if our lives were fake, my family was real. I held vehemently to that thought—to the truth of my family—as I stepped into the old schoolhouse and back into ‘reality’.
Instructor Lokina was extra enthusiastic in Artistic Literature today, which helped me to focus on the lesson and ignore the thoughts and questions bouncing around my head.
We were discussing chain verse poetry, and I felt like I understood the concept all right—until Instructor Lokina assigned us ea
ch to write a six-line chain poem to be read in class in two weeks.
I’d never been much good at poetry, though I understood the concepts well enough. I just couldn’t get the words to come together in the right way and make sense.
I didn’t hear a whole lot of what Instructor Stevens said in Music of Capernia class—I was too preoccupied with worrying about my poem.
I even struggled to pay attention during Practical Literature, a new experience for me. Instructor Grey had it out for me for some reason, so usually I tried to stay alert whenever I was in his class.
Not today, though.
Today my mind was too full with thoughts of the Reality Dreams and worry over my poem. I did resurface when he called my name in the middle of class, though I had no idea what he’d been saying.
“What?” I could already feel my face heating up with embarrassment.
The class snickered, and Instructor Grey didn’t try to quiet them. He peered down his long nose at me for a few seconds, letting the humiliation wash over me, and then he sniffed and waved a paper in the air. It looked like some kind of list, and I could only assume he’d been reading from it.
“Mr. Hartley, you will be working with Miss Lane.” Instructor Grey’s tone was very demeaning. He raised a dark eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you have a complaint?”
I hurried to shake my head and dropped my eyes to my desk, humiliated.
Instructor Grey let the awkward moment last for another few seconds, and then he began to read names from his list again, pairing up students to work together on some assignment.
I had no idea what we would be doing, but I didn’t dare ask and make an even bigger idiot of myself.
“It’s Jonas, isn’t it?”
I jumped at the unexpected question and quickly raised my head. A pretty girl stood next to me, a book bag in her arms and a hesitant smile on her face.
“Uh, yeah.” I glanced across the room at Instructor Grey, waiting for him to punish us for talking during class. Then I realized there were quite a few people out of their chairs, gathering into pairs.
I turned back to the girl beside me, who I figured was Miss Lane. She looked vaguely familiar, but I don’t think I’d ever talked to her before.
She glanced behind her and saw that the desk next to mine was empty. With another smile she settled into the chair and turned sideways in it so she was facing me across the narrow aisle.
She crossed her legs and leaned forward a bit. “So, where do you want to start?”
I grimaced, embarrassment rushing back to my face. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing. I kind of . . . zoned out and missed the explanation.”
To my surprise, rather than criticizing or mocking me, she let out a soft laugh. “I know what that’s like.” She smiled kindly and held out a slender hand for me to shake. “I’m Abby, by the way.”
After a short hesitation, I shook it and felt a smile forming. I was grateful I didn’t have to ask for her name. After all, she’d known mine—it would’ve felt weird to ask.
“So, what did you do to Instructor Grey to make him so mad?” I tossed a peek toward the front of the room, but Instructor Grey was answering some students’ questions and didn’t hear my words.
Abby frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You do know he’s going to fail you on this assignment.” I tried not to sound too bitter. “He put you with me, so there’s no way you’re going to pass this.”
She almost smiled, then she pursed her lips, brown eyes sparkling. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
I wanted to convince her of the hopelessness of it all, but now I was curious. “What is the assignment?”
Abby slipped her chin-length brown hair behind her ears with an excited grin. “It’s a presentation on Thomas Moche and his literary contributions that we’ll present to the class the second to last week of school.”
I felt my spirits lifting. Maybe I would still fail this assignment, but at least I would enjoy putting it together. Then I wondered why Abby seemed so excited. I decided to ask.
Her answer surprised me.
“Well, everyone knows you’re one of the smartest kids in school—especially when it comes to Concepts. I’ve never been very good at remembering names and dates and stuff, but I figure with your help we’ll be just fine. And with my writing talent, we should have the best presentation of all!”
I was surprised she seemed so upbeat about this assignment, but for some reason she had me smiling.
It would be nice to have a partner who actually cared. Most kids just gave up all hope when they got stuck with me, which had never bothered me before. But the prospect of having a good partner had me excited.
Abby and I spent the rest of the class brainstorming ideas, which was a new experience for me. I’d never brainstormed with another person—it was actually kind of exciting. It was fun to have another view on things, and having fresh ideas was great.
For the first time ever, I actually enjoyed Practical Literature, and when the chime sounded at the end of the day, I was reluctant to leave the room and head home.
Abby looked down at the list we’d made; she didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, despite the other kids filing out of the room eagerly.
She smiled up at me and slid her books into her bag. “We’ve got some really good stuff here. I’m glad we’re working together, Jonas.” I heard nothing but sincerity in her voice.
I returned her smile. “So am I, Abby.”
She stood up and waited for me to pull my bag onto my shoulder, and then we headed for the door.
Abby walked beside me in the chaotic hall. “So, when do you want to meet so we can get some more planning done?”
I was sure Mom and Dad would require me to get their permission, even if it was a school assignment, so today was out. And tomorrow I had another meeting with Counselor Gerrit.
“How’s tomorrow?”
I quickly shook my head. “Tomorrow’s not good.” I worried she was going to ask me for an explanation, but she just nodded.
“Okay. How about Friday after school?”
I nodded. “That should work. As long as my parents are alright with it.”
Abby smiled. “Okay then. See you tomorrow, Jonas!” She waved to me and disappeared into the crowd.
I met Ellie at the schoolhouse door and she gave me a weird look.
“What?” I asked.
She shook her head with a frown. “You just look happy.”
I smiled. “What’s wrong with that?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged and took the lead.
I followed her home, my smile still in place.
Mom was glad to see my smile, and she didn’t even mention tomorrow’s appointment.
At dinner, I asked my parents if I could study with Abby after school on Friday, and they both agreed. Mom was a little surprised I wanted to study with someone, but it was the good kind of surprised.
By the time I was falling asleep, warm and comfy in my bed, my mind was clear at last, and my last thoughts were about Friday.
I couldn’t wait.
Acknowledgements
Wow. I don’t even know where to start.
I guess I’ll start off by thanking my family—my wonderful parents and amazing siblings. You guys are the best! Mom and Dad, you taught me to love books and reading, and encouraged me to develop my imagination. I can never thank you enough for that. Richard, Heather, Kevin, Joseph, Emma, Samuel, Lilly, Matthew, Jacob. You guys are awesome!
Thanks to Becky, who first got me interested in writing, and to Heather for humoring me every step of the way.
Thanks also to Krista and Maria, who read this book before it was the masterpiece it currently is. Your feedback really helped!
I also need to thank my Heavenly Father for all the blessings He has given me.
And a huge thank you to all of you who read this book. I hope you enjoyed the story so far!
About the Author
K. M. Frost
was brought up surrounded by books and imagination, and has loved stories of all kinds her whole life. She comes from a large, loving family which shaped her into who she is today. K. M. Frost lives in Northern Utah. Reality Dreamers is her first published novel.
To learn more, please visit www.kmfrost.com, or follow K. M. Frost on Facebook.
