[A] NiGHTS: DreamWalkers [Reader Insert Story]

[Prologue]

[Prologue]:
(Y/n)'s Journal

Bland. Why does it always have to be so bland?

Maybe it's because making eye contact isn't so easy when talking about feelings...or in this case. What goes on in your own mind; like dreaming or daydreaming. Especially the words inside the dream journal that you grasps anxiously in your hands.

"As always, how are you today?"

The same question directed to you. All of the time, since the first day. Which was possibly a year or two ago. Once again, the answer was a quiet shrug.

A faint yet slightly tired sigh escaped the "supposed" professional counselor across from you. She lifts up the golden frames on her nose and the glittering pink jewels caught your attention for a brief moment. The glasses bring out her blue eyes as they skim the papers in her hands.

"Do we really have to start this over again? At least try for a vocal answer, (Y/n)."

Honestly, you wanted to get straight to the point, so you could leave quicker and go home to sleep. Besides, why couldn't she see how you're feeling by your exhausted appearance.

"Next time then. For now; let us move on to the topic for today." Her dark painted lips curl into a vague smile. "I've taken notice that in your journal, the entries of your dreams aren't randomly different like all the others I've come across." The scarlet strands shift with the tilt of her head with a hum of interest. "It seems at each ending entry, the dream picks up again. Almost like a story. You know, the journal is only for what keeps you distracted with your constant daydreaming."

That last comment felt like she was attacking you, though maybe it wasn't intended that way. What would you know?

"Those are what I dream about during the nights. They've been showing that way ever since—..."

Your sentence immediately cuts off because what you're about to say sounded too loopy for someone your age. A grown; well; more of a young adult. This action caused a dry throat to speak anymore.

A cup of water is offered to you as the Counselor stood above you. "Remember, everything you say will be kept inside this room and only you and I will know."

With a small sip, you relax a little as the liquid soothes your throat.

While taking a seat, she holds out her pale hand, "Shall we get this over with, (Y/n)?"

*Ding~*

The grandfather clock across the room chimes and the hands show that it's almost noon. 15 minutes into 11 o'clock. It's a bit disappointing and irritating that you're wasting time here in this room. Since it's almost 12, might as well end the session at that time for lunch.

You and her briefly make eye contact before the journal is placed into her hands.

*Ding~*

Seriously. Who owns a grandfather clock nowadays? That question made you huff, but it also brought a warm smile to your face at the thought of a particular friend of yours.

Their childish response to the very question and their bubbly laughter; "I know, right!? I'd say it's more for those old timers like Owl!"

You remembered that you choked back a laugh behind your hands at the owl's ruffled offense. Just like you're doing now, to hold back the laugh at the memory with a snort. Both their banter causes laughter to bubble out from inside you. A heartwarming laughter that you haven't felt in so long.

"(Y/n). What made you so amused over there?"

A forced smile is upon the woman's face which is now straining to stay in place at your lack of response.

"Something I remembered, is all." You shrug nonchalantly and lay back against the couch.

The journal is flipped open.

"Is it something that you've dreamt of and written in your journal?"

Your face heats up in embarrassment, "I....Yeah."

She gives a hum in response, but you had thought you heard her tsk. Her pale pink nails flips another page to where you began to write. Of course, after every entry, she would ask questions or give opinions of her own.

So there you were again.

The anxious feeling rises to pull you down again. That fluttery feeling in your chest and.....something clawing at your leg.

A red eyed mist appears from under the couch only to disappear at the fearful gasp you held back. Your heart stops for a moment until you're snapped out of it.

"Are you alright, (Y/n)?"

You gulped and forced a tiny grin, "Yeah. I think I'm just tired."

The amusement in her eyes had gone unnoticed as she began to read out your first entry.

Where you had written "How" your adventurous journey had started and "How" your special, yet rare ability caused a powerful ripple through an alternate dream world.

Dream-Walking is fun, but extremely dangerous if it brings unwanted attention.

*Click~*

*Ding! Ding! Ding!~*