Dreamer - Savannah Campbell (ready player one ebook txt) 📗

on earth would my dreams want me to do it? Sheesh. Her mental words are running through her brain as fast as her legs are taking her through the woods. As she keeps running, a lump of fear starts its way through her tiring body as she can't find an exit. I’ve been working on my dreams for years now, carefully documenting them in specific details both in content and my own control of them.  I know me running through anything outdoors is a sign that I am definitely not awake. I just need to know who or what is chasing me and I can act from there.  

Irene turns her head quickly to scan the horizon behind her. A shadowy figure that up until now has been more than a yard or two behind her steps into her line of sight. Irene’s researched enough to know that dreams, while they seem long and involved as they happen and once the person wakes up only really last a few brief moments. As exhausted she feels and as constant as it's felt to have this maniac trailing her, the chase has only really been going on for maybe a few minutes. 

Okay buddy; show your face, I want to know who or what you are. The sooner I am able to confront you for whatever you symbolize the better. She silently commands the pursuer and stops by a tall magnolia tree, catching her breath and evening out its erratic tone. 

The figure slows her pace down accordingly and walks up to Irene so that their face to face. The mid-afternoon light comes through the trees and shines on her chaser. Irene moves forward, almost not believing who is looking at her at first. The teenager looking forward is her exact double, except in more modern fashions and an age appropriate haircut for a seventeen year old. 

“Are you really who I think you are?” Irene asks the doppelganger.  

“I’m whoever you think I am.” The doppleganger answers.  

“You’re me I think, albeit a much nicer dressed me but still…” 

“Then there you go. Any other questions? We’ve only got a few more seconds before you’ll make yourself wake up for school.” 

“How do you know that I can wake myself at will?” Irene asks with an almost frightened look. 

“I’m a part of your subconscious, who else would know you better?” Her trendy twin answers with a smirk. 

“Okay fine, why are you chasing me?” 

The other Irene explains quickly that she needs to take slightly more of an interest in her appearance and social life. It won’t take much, maybe changing her outfits a bit and increase the talking to her classmates. Irene bows her head, she's knows that this version of herself is right but saying how to change and actually doing it are two very different things. I'm such an introverted mess, besides what are the odds that if I get my nerves up my take on the world that will be appreciated? 

“You can wake up now and write down what you have just been through, the feelings it stirred up and all. What you do with what you told yourself, well that’s up to you. I won't promise you that I won't chase you again though.” Her inner self tells her. 

Without a second thought Irene wills herself awake and finds her surroundings are her bedroom again. I’m out of the woods, maybe literally. She quickly checks her alarm clock on the nightstand to see that she still has ten minutes before she was supposed to wake up. Grabbing the pen and bound journal she keeps beside it, words flow from her pen easily and fluidly in her descriptions of everything she just encountered including the woods and her emotions upon meeting herself.  

She dots the page and ends her last sentence before replacing the notebook and pen and turning off her alarm one minute before it was set to blare into her ear. She then goes over to her closet to find something different to wear for once. Skipping over her usual jeans and casual shirts, she decides to heed her own advice and picks a blouse and khakis. It’s not like anyone other than mom will have anything to say about it but oh well. Irene goes on to complete her morning routine and then joins her parents for breakfast, an event that seems to be getting quieter each week. As she sits down, Irene briefly wonders if the conversations will become fully non-existent when she attends college in the fall.  

“Good morning honey, have a good night’s sleep?” Her mom asks sweetly as she places a plate of eggs, toast and a sausage patty in front of her. 

Irene nods, deciding to continue the themed silence of the table. Her dad is as usual immersed in his newspaper and her mom is staring wistfully out the window in between eating petite bites of her food. The silence is broken surprisingly by her father when he puts down what he’s reading and begins to tell the ladies his excitement about his new job. Months ago, out of boredom and disdain for his cubicle at a local ad firm, he quit and answered an ad placed by a local company recently started to do Web site design for other businesses. 

He had limited experience with the Internet technology that was slowly building up popularity nationwide but something told him (and he now reiterates to the family) that it felt right and he was a good fit for the electronic business world. Now, today he was starting work as a consultant and would be getting on-the-job (and paid) training in site design.  

“They say I’m going to be learning this new language that’s used to create the sites, I think they called it HTML.” Andrew said with a glint in his eye like a kid with a new video game.  

“Well we are very happy for you,” Irene said with a fake smile she had crafted after years of watching her parents celebrate her own actions non-stop. 

Her mom broke her eyes away from the window momentarily to nod quickly too. Irene noticed her silent approval of her husband’s work. It seemed more like a stranger on the street would tell another person “Congratulations” more than a wife being proud of her spouse. Irene immediately feels herself speculate if her parents ever showed positivity with each other's behavior. Now is not the time to go down that road, and in actuality do I even want to do that in the first place? They seem happy in their own melancholic way, Irene thinks as she finishes her juice. It’s not my place to meddle this way. 

“Well, I hate to leave you in your moment of happiness dad, but I better get going to school, those parking lots are a madhouse if you get there too late.” Irene says quickly. 

“Of course honey, get going. This is after all your last semester before college. It always amazes me what all you have accomplished these last twelve years.” He smiles brightly as he looks up at her. 

“Oh yes sweetie, it’s only a matter of days before we start getting those college acceptance letters.” Her mom’s face almost glows with pride as she turns away from the window for good to extol her daughter. 

And there we go, the actual happiness returns when it’s directed toward me, Irene sighs as she grabs her school bag and keys from the hall. She gets to her Jeep quickly and safely drives to the county high school while her favorite Jackson Browne song serenades her throughout her journey there. The school soon appears on her left and she pulls into the upperclassmen parking lot.  

Irene knows she probably could have gone to any private high school in the state with the grades she got at Darrington Day School but she didn't want to continue the structured and disciplined pattern that her earlier years inflicted on her. The county high school’s classes are sometimes overcrowded and seventy-two percent of the teachers would rather be anywhere else but Irene likes the academic breaks she can utilize. She's taken nearly every class she wanted to while also following her guidance counselor’s advice to try for a commonwealth diploma. With five months until she graduates, Irene can almost feel the paper in her hands with those words on it. Thanks to her hard word, Irene was able to make time for electives like darkroom photography she’s been taking this year. Her middle school dream work has also expanded her interest into multiple areas of psychology in general. 

After taking the AP course in it her sophomore year, Irene fell in academic love with it and knew then and there that would be her college career.  Over time the career has been reshaped from an interest initial interests in cognition and memory to her present consideration being more on child developmental work. Of course knowing how vast of a field psychology is, I’ll probably find something else I like at university. Irene smiles as she walks into the building and goes to her morning classes. 

After lunch, she stops by the bathroom. As Irene she washes her hands, she sees a petite girl with jet black hair down to her shoulders who seems familiar. The girl is sitting with her back against the wall opposite the stalls with a sketchbook on her lap. In one of her hands is a brown artist’s pencil sketching lightly across the page in broad strokes. In the other, Irene notices a Winston Light brand cigarette, halfway smoked.  

Before she can even think to comment, the girl looks up at Irene. “I only smoke about two a day. I also make sure to cover the smelly air before I go. Plus I have major connections in this town so it’s not in your best interest to report me.” She says before taking a short drag and adding quick lines to one of the edges of her drawing.  

“Oh,” Irene says and feels a bit taken aback. “I wouldn’t tell anyone what you’re doing even if I wanted to. It’s not my place to rat out your personal destructive habits.”  

The girl smirks as she takes her last puff as she simultaneously finishes her sketch. She stands up and stamps out her cigarette before tossing the butt in the trash. She pulls out a small aerosol can and sprays it around where she had been sitting.  

“I know you don’t I? At least I think we have a class together.” She says as she moves over to the sink beside Irene. 

“Yeah, I think we do, are you in Mr. Duanne’s darkroom photography class next period?” Irene replies. 

“Yeah I am. Hester von Ehrenberg.” The girl says as she turns on the water. 

“Irene Gabbard. Wait. Ehrenberg? As in the Ehrenberg Family Banks?” 

“One in the same, I personally don’t like to show off that aspect of me to get any attention. I want my art to be my noteworthiness.” She shows Irene the drawing she’d been working on before. Irene nods her approval and compliments the great use of perspective. 

Hester’s thanks her and the girls continue to talk as they dry their hands and walk toward their class together. Irene is amazed at how easy it is to talk about photography with Hester. As they continue down the hallway, Hester describes her all encompassing interest in art media from darkroom photo burning to clay sculptures. Just outside their class's door, Geoff catches Irene’s eyes on his way to the opposite end of the hallway. 

“Hey Ira, did we have any homework due in trig today? I want to make sure I have something to do during study hall.” He teases. 

Irene sighs. “First of all, for the most recent time in the 4 years of our relationship it’s Irene. Second of all, you know we had trig home work because you were in class yesterday. And third, you did the work within moments of it being assigned so you’re just going to have to do something else besides twiddle your thumbs for an hour.” 

Geoff laughs. Irene rolls her eyes but she's used to this by now. Geoff rarely uses her real name and when he does it's always important. He laughs at her reactions to his seemingly patented aberrations of it. It's a behavioral pattern he's been doing at least four times a week since they met in eighth grade. Hearing him beg about trigonometry homework makes her sigh, loudly. I know he’s one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, he just doesn’t like to let on about it.  

“Oh well fine. See ya later Ire.” He gives her an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Save me a seat in our row okay? I’m off to wherever it is I'm scheduled.” He says and winks before rushing down the hall. 

“You’re