"Reverie"

The doors to the “Reverie Repository” whooshed open and Azlyn stepped into the candle-lit lobby. The moonlight from the atrium barely reached this level, providing only a strange blue-ish glow.

Madame Penelope sat behind the counter, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, the flicker of candlelight glinting off her teeth. “Welcome back. May I help you find something or would you like to pull from the ‘Random’ bin?”

“I think I’ll browse around tonight." Azlyn nodded and turned to face the grand array of choices.

Madame Penelope sank back onto her stool and began filing her nails. “Don’t take too long.”

The old oak floors creaked under Azlyn’s feet as she passed the first set of shelves.  Each dream sat bottled and waiting. Some dreams were housed in tiny vials. Others, large urns. The purple ones always drew her eye, but she never hesitated to select a yellow one or a nice teal. The placards posted on the ends of each display were starting to yellow with age: “Recent Memories,” “Family,” “Work.” She continued along and climbed the stairs, sliding her hand along the familiar smooth metal railing. More placards labeled the sections: “Old Flame,” “Childhood,” “Future Plans.”

Azlyn shook her head. “No, something different this time.”

On the next level, Azlyn shuddered as she hurried past “Fears,” the cold seeping off the shelves and piercing her bones. She paused at “Flying”—one of her favorites. “No. Not tonight.”

She ascended the next flight of stairs. The dreams on this level were housed in tall glass cabinets to keep out the dust. Not many would venture up here, or at least not often. Azlyn pondered as she read the labels. “Hopes,” “Imagination,” “Impossibilities,” “God.”

She stepped forward, turned the small brass latch, and swung open the glass door. A golden jar with a silver stopper sat perched on the highest shelf. With both hands, Azlyn carefully lowered the jar and turned it over, examining it. “Yes. This is it.” She cradled the jar carefully in the crook of her elbow then glided down the staircases and deposited her selection on the counter.

Madame Penelope put away the nail file and eyed the item in front of her. She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “This one? Are you sure?”

“Yes, please. I feel called to it. I need to see for myself.”

“Very well.” Madame Penelope wrapped the jar in stiff white paper and handed it back to Azlyn. “Take care of it. That is a special one.”

Azlyn smiled. “Yes, of course.” She turned and exited into the misty night air. 


Written in response to a picture prompt from my writing group. See the original picture prompt here: https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=46592022

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