Another story based off of one of my dreams.

Author's note: Because this story is based off of a dream, it does contain some dream logic! Please keep that in mind.

PART 1

I was never one to believe in fate or god, but he was.

It all started on my first day of college (cliché I know, but bare with me), I was getting my degree in engineering. My family wasn't exactly thrilled that I didn't want to carry on the "Munro" legacy, but in the end they left the decision up to me.

So there I was a 19 year old college freshmen, searching desperately for her dorm room. By this point I had already asked at least six people for directions. I was about to give up and live on the old leather couch I had passed so many times... when I saw it, Room 133. I had walked right passed it! I felt so oblivious, who knows how many times I've been up and down these stars, searching left and right, when it was right in front of the god damn leather couch.

I sighed "Okay, Maggie, you made it. Just open the door and we can get on with our normal, average, boring lives." I told myself.

Of course my life turned out to be anything but normal.

I opened the creaky door, peering my head first. It was dark, illuminated by only the afternoon sun, dust floated around in the warm rays of light. Silence, overwhelming silence. The second I heard the door click behind I wanted to cry. I was furious, actual steam was coming out of my ears.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I shouted into the empty room. "Don't pretend, I can sense you, might as well make yourself visible. God fucking damnit! I came here to get away from this shit!" I kicked my bag across the room. "Well! Come on out!"

There emerged out of the shadowed corner of my dorm, a blonde curly hair boy, eyes wide, he whispered "You can sense me?"

Seriously devoted to eating giant banana pancakes, researching homemade rabbit costumes, and thinking about the faces people make during sex. Seriously engaged in irreverent bathroom stall philosophy, in leaving drunk voicemails, and watching awkward flirting in the wild. Seriously invested in hanging by my fingers from this tumbling little planet as it zooms through the cosmos. Serious is as serious does, after all. 

"To make clouds act" said the child, "I tell them to do a show."

"And do they?"

"Oh yes. "

"Always?"

"Always," said the child, "They always do something."

"Hmmmn", said the sorcerer, disbelief in his tone,

The child smiled. "I'm right, you know. Their best is a disappearing act."