"Very well. Riley fell asleep," the director of Dream Studios announces. "She had a perfect day, surrounded by friends and family. We have a script full of action, emotion and a lot of happiness," she furthers automatically, while handing out the scripts among the actors.
"Camera one, we start with Riley playing with her hockey stick. Harp, Reality Filter . . ."
"Teeth?" the Assistant asks, with a bucket in his hand.
"Not this time," the director says, focused on the scene. "Now, traveling, a little more, the camera approaches the goal and . . .
"She scores!" everybody shouts, while confetti falls from the ceiling, fireworks come out and Riley is lifted by her teammates. The scoreboard displays 00:01.
"We love you, Riley!" Two voices are heard from the stands.
The camera focuses on them and suddenly the director shouts:
"Cut! Who did this?"
"I followed the script," Riley's mother's impersonator excuses herself, her face painted white and wearing a black T-shirt.
"And what about your look? Now Mom got gothic? The uniform of the Foghorns is blue, not black!" the director complains.
"The Assistant Director put it on me; he said it was very important."
"The Assistant Director? Tim Darkton!" the director shouts. "Where is that groomy character?"
In a small poorly lit room, a skinny guy with an unhealthy appearance and tangled black hair covering part of his face is working on an electronic device, whistling a very cheerful song though on a very sad tone. Like a not-so-happy birthday song.
"What was that, Darkton?" the director bursts.
"An artistic license," Tim answers nonchalantly. "You asked me to take care of the costumes department only and that's what I did."
The director sits next to Darkton and says:
"Do you remember last year, Tim, when we moved from Minnesota?"
"Yes, I remember," he says, somehow annoyed.
"I gave you a great opportunity. You directed your first dream. Riley's first dream in San Francisco . . . And what happened?"
"I bet you're going to tell me . . . ," guesses Darkton.
"Tim, my dear, I gave you absolute freedom for that dream. You wanted a haunted house and I prepared you a haunted house; you wanted a talking rat and even a bear with a broccoli pizza, and I delivered it. Do you know how difficult it was to dress that bear in a t-shirt? And what for?"
"The dream carried a very important warning message at that moment," Tim says. "A new city, unknown risks, you know how it ended . . ."
"And how long was the dream before it was disconnected?"
"Twenty-seven seconds . . ." says Darkton.
"Twenty-seven seconds," the director confirms. "And then, pouf! They disconnected us and goodbye dream. All the production work went to waste. When are you going to understand that Riley needs to be happy, Tim?"
"Riley needs the truth," Tim sighs, laying his tools down annoyed.
"And what is that truth?" the director asks, in an attempt to understand.
"That Mom is not feeling well," Darkton says emphatically. "That Dad didn't want to support her. Something is wrong and we have to warn her."
"Tim, you're a dreamer," the director says in a motherly tone.
"Aren't we all?" Tim despairs.
"But I am also realistic and I know how the world works. If Riley wants to keep dreaming about unicorns and cupcakes . . ."
"Ice cones..." interrupts Darkton.
"Whatever. The point is that our priority is to take care of Riley."
"That's what I am trying to do, to show her the truth," Darkton insists.
"Tim,I'm going to tell you something that you might already know, but that I shouldhave told you a long time ago. You don't belong here." Suddenly her expressionhardens and she stands up and says: "Guards, take this man to the subconscious!"
YOU ARE READING
Deeper Inside out
FanfictionA year after moving to San Francisco, Riley is better than ever. Her hockey team (The Foghorns) is in the finals, everything is going well with her boyfriend Jordan and with mom and dad too. But when everything seems perfect, something happens to mo...
