Prologue
“The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don't know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.”
– Unknown
I was born in the night. While the world slept. March third, 1845. My mother named me Epee, but that’s not what they call me now. I died when I was fourteen. March third, 1859. When death came for me, He saw potential, and gave me three offers. To assist him in his journeys, to carry the many souls on my back to the heavens above. To die peacefully, to have my soul trapped in my body forever, for if I as to choose this option, I would shame him. Or, to linger in the night, collecting what he wanted to see the most, he wanted inside their heads, your heads; He wanted me to be the dream taker.
Being the girl I was. I took the third option.
At this point he smiled, and then he left. Telling me he would be back later. Alone, I stood and walked my street, the cold pavement under my bare feet. I was dressed now in a long white dress that hung from my body in folds, making me seem trust worthy, calm, safe. But that’s the exact opposite of what I was. I was a monster.
He was back, but sooner than I had expected, carrying with him, a book. The book was black, hard cover, and looked to weigh a good twenty pounds. When I took it in my hands, though, it was feather weight. Etched into the cover was a message “To Steal a Dream”, it was mine.
The book taught me what I needed to know. It taught me how to reach inside, to take the dream from the unsuspecting girl or boy. It taught me that I could only take from the young, ages five to fifteen. It taught me how to watch, and to wait for the rightful owner to be finished with it. It taught me everything.
