Vera Ixan turned around surprised to find a teenage girl standing a few feet away, staring at her with an eerie intensity. She didn't recognize her face and yet, she looked so familiar. She was wearing a simple, knee length dress made out of traditional African cloth and a pair of brown, leather sandals. Her eyes were huge and piercing and seemed to bore right into her soul. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Despite probably being the same age as her, the girl seemed… old. And something seemed off about her. Vera tried to remember the term nerds used to describe the weird feeling people got from watching animated characters that tried to be very lifelike but had missed the mark. Ah, yes: Uncanny Valley.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"We've been watching you for a long time, Vera."

"We? Who's we?"

"I will explain everything to you when the time is right but I need you to come with me."

"I don't think so. I don't just follow random strangers even if she's a teenager like me… wait… why are we here?"

Vera looked around and her and was perplexed to find that she was standing near the abandoned church in her school's compound. The tall, abandoned relic stood outlined in the purple black sky, dark clouds scuttling past it. The wrought iron gate was wide open as it had always been and the silhouettes of tombstones could be seen in sharp contrast in the bright, silver moonlight.

"Why, you don't remember coming here?" the girl asked. Vera was sure that she hadn't blinked once which didn't help to shake off the uncanny valley feeling.

"No, I don't which is weird because I never forget anything. This can only mean one thing."

"Really? What's that?"

"I'm dreaming."

"Dreaming? So you know when you're dreaming?"

"Yes, most times. I practice oneironautics."

"Oneironautics? Wow, that's a mouthful. What on earth is that?"

"It's the ability to travel within a dream on a conscious basis. People who have this ability are called oneironauts and one of the first things you learn about finding yourself in a dream is that you always start in the middle of some activity at some place with no recollection of how you actually got there."

"Nice! You really are a genius aren't you?"

"But I get the feeling you know this already. In fact, I get the feeling you know far more than I can ever imagine."

"You really are a very intuitive girl, Vera. Come with me. I have something to show you."

The girl turned around and started walking into the church compound. Vera followed suit while taking furtive looks around her.

The graveyard was dark and quiet. A lone tree stood etched out in the moonlight, it's long, blackened branches stretching out like the arms of the damned. Vera's eyes settled on the back of the teenage girl. She walked stiffly, her back ramrod straight yet at the same time she seemed to glide.

"Who are you?" Vera asked.

"My name is Alice," she answered without turning around. They were now walking among the tombstones.

"I mean… who are you, really?"

Alice didn't answer. Vera reached out a hand to touch a tombstone. It felt cold. She looked carefully around her. Everything was crystal clear. She could see everything in sharp, minute detail. She wondered how this could be possible in a dream. Everything felt so real like she was actually here, in this place, and not just as a result of a day's jumbled up thoughts and memories.

"You wonder whether I'm real?" Alice asked.

"Yes."

"I am real. Everything you see hear is real and that's why I need you to brace yourself for what you are about to see."
Find authorized novels in Webnovel，faster updates, better experience，Please click for visiting.

"Dreams are just that- dreams. They are not real. So whatever it is you want to show me isn't real either."

"Are you sure?" Alice had stopped at a gravestone and was staring down at it. "You think dreams are just dreams?"

"Yes. No one really knows why we dream but personally, I believe it's the brain rearranging files like a librarian at the end of the day."

"Come see."

Vera walked up to her side and looked down to see what was inscribed on the tombstone. A chill ran up her spine. The sharp copperplate gothic font was unmistakable in the silver light.

R.I.P

VERA IXAN

2004-2019

"Welcome, Vera," said Alice. "Welcome to your final resting place."