Dreams can be wonderful things. Your brain tears apart your memories and feelings, and then puts it all back together again like a mismatched puzzle. You can see and do anything, weather it makes sense or not. You could rule the world or become a superhero or live on an island filled only with puppies. But you could also fall off of a mountain and spend hours waiting to hit the ground. You could be chased through tight corridors by the monsters that live in your head. You might fail a test or drown in thick mud or become paralyzed with fear, unable to move or breath.
For every one of your wildest dreams, there is a nightmare lurking in the shadows of your own mind, waiting to attack.
Sometimes though, the dreams become more than just a fantasy. Sometimes they leak out into the real world, through pictures or stories or actions. The man in the mist, the one who controls the dreams, knows this better than anyone. He can see when one boy's worst nightmare is about to come true and tries to stop it anyway he can. Sometimes though, dreaming isn't enough.

Dreams can be wonderful things, but nightmares are always more powerful.

"Why won't you show me your face?" Alfred asked the man.

Mist covered the ground and curled around his feet. It wrapped itself around the stranger, obscuring his face.

"I can't." The man said. "They can't know. Now you must run."

"You can't expect me to get up and go just because some guy in a dream told me to." Alfred said.

"I can't make you leave but for your own safety, and your brothers you must—"

"Wait, what does Matthew have to do with this?"

As the morning sun shone through the window, Alfred stretched his arms high and groaned. It had been the same dream as always. Dust floated through the air, illuminated by the early sunbeams. He rolled over in bed and saw his brother sleeping across the room. His eyes were scrunched up tight, deepening his laugh lines.

"Hey Mattie, GET UP!" Alfred shouted.

Matthew jolted up. Flailing his arms and kicking at his sheets, he tumbled to the ground. Alfred laughed, watching as Matthew, covered in blankets, grumbled and sat up.

"Morning bro." Alfred grinned. Matthew glared at him and didn't answer. He could be grouchy when Alfred woke him up but it was just so much fun, Alfred couldn't resist. Throwing off his blankets, he sat up and leaned his head against the wall beside him. As Matthew untangled himself from the mess of red and white sheets, Alfred quietly said,

"I dreamed about him again Matthew."

He saw a flicker of disbelief on Matthew's face. It was quickly replaced by concern when he replied,

"What did he say this time?"

Alfred sighed. Explicit details of his dream were already slipping away like sand falling through his fingers. The man's face became blurry and obscured with fog, although Alfred clearly remembered the man's thick accent. Floating around in his head were words. Mixed up, strung together in one order and, when that didn't sound right, taken apart and rearranged again.

"I don't remember most of it. He was really worried about something though. And he said that he'd be coming soon."

"Coming where?" Matthew asked.

"I don't know," He replied. "But it didn't feel good talking about it."

Alfred could remember how he felt in the dream. His stomach churned like the ocean during a storm at the man's words. As interested in the mystery man as he was, Alfred didn't trust him.

"Alfred, is it me or did the room just get really cold?"

Alfred looked over and saw that Matthew had wrapped a large blanket around himself. A moment later a gust of wind blew in from seemingly nowhere. Quickly, it sent goosebumps up Alfred's arms and icy pins stabbing his skin. It chilled him to the bone. He rubbed his arms and blew warm breath onto his hands.

"How can it be this cold?" Alfred asked between clenched teeth.

A quick glance at the calendar hanging on the wall confirmed his hazy morning thoughts. Although it felt like January in their room, it was early summer. June 5th. It had also happened so suddenly, Alfred noticed as he rubbed his arms more viciously.

"This is so weird."

Matthew nodded. Then their room exploded.

A deafening roar hit Alfred with the force of an asteroid. He was knocked off the bed, hitting the ground hard with his hands. When he sucked in a breath his lungs burned. Smoke filled the room and clouded his vision. Hastily, he scrambled to grab his glasses. As his fingers clasped around them Alfred sighed in relief. One lense had a long crack down the middle but other than that they were fine. Shoving them on, he turned his head to find Matthew. Scanning the room, he ignored the ringing in his ears and the taste of blood in his mouth.

Flames devoured his brothers bed and licked the scorched walls. He saw shattered pieces of glass littering the floor near the window. The blast must have come from outside, he thought. Some of the shards had hit him, he could feel the stinging sensation in his hands. When he looked up, he saw that the bedroom door stood ajar, unhinged but still standing. As another blast rocked the room, Alfred screamed,

"Matthew!"

The ground shook and he was tossed into the wall like a ragdoll. He coughed, desperately sucking in the poisoned air. With ever breath his lungs rattled. Shakily, he grabbed an overturned chair and pulled himself to his feet. He could feel his eyes watering and his throat burn from his rapid breathing combined with the smoky air. Hissing and yanking his hand back when it got too close to one of the open flames, Alfred stumbled to Matthews bed.

"Mattie?"

It came out less as a call. More of a scratchy whisper. The ringing in his ears was louder now, drowning everything else out. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a flash of blond hair. Twisting around he saw Matthew lying on the ground. Blood dripped down his face from a gaping wound on his forehead. He was pinned underneath the desk that had been knocked over during the second blast. At first glance Alfred thought it had crushed his brother. Hesitantly, he looked closer, eyes wide and stomach churning.

He could see Matthew's chest rising and falling ever so slowly. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

As he made his way to help him, Alfred tripped and collapsed to the floor. For a moment he didn't move. He sucked air in through his teeth. Getting onto his hands and knees, he crawled, trembling, to Matthew's side. His hands shook as he pressed his hands to Matthew's forehead. The excessive amount of blood made it slippery. For a moment Alfred thought he was going to be sick.

This can't be happening.

His head spun. He didn't know what to do. Heart pounding rapidly against his chest, he took his brother's hand and squeezed it. Matthew didn't respond. Alfred's stomach twisted. Staring at his brother, he desperately trying to think of a way to help. He could barely stay conscious, much less stand up and go for help. Pushing on his head wound wouldn't do anything if he was crushed beneath the desk.

As the gears in his head turned, Matthew disappeared.

Alfred jolted back, dropping Matthews hand. The desk that laid on his brother was propped up on what looked like empty space. It reminded him of the ghosts stories he and Matthew would tell each other when they were younger. Hesitantly, reached out and gasped when he felt the thin folds of Matthews sleeve. He was still there, Alfred marveled. He was just invisible.

Just as suddenly as Matthew disappeared, he flickered back into view. Alfred stared in amazement. He watched as Matthew opened his eyes and groaned loudly. Smudges of smoke looked like bruises on his cheeks. He blinked, a dazed expression on his face, before asking,
"Alfred? What happened?

"Mattie," Alfred's face split into a grin. "Don't look down bro, just close your eyes."
Matthew compiled. Alfred didn't want him to see the desk on top of him. If his brother started freaking out he wasn't sure how he would have handled that. Hopefully he didn't disappear again either.

"Alfred what's going on? Every—everything hurts." He whimpered.

"It's okay Mattie. Just wait." Alfred said.

Matthews face contorted in pain. Alfred hated seeing his brother hurt, he clenched his fists at the thought of whoever did this. He knew he had to get that damn desk off him first. It was heavy though, Alfred remembered when he and Matthew firsted moved in together they had needed three people to move it. While Alfred was always ready to admit to his strength, even he knew he couldn't lift it alone. There wasn't much time though.

Any minute now they could launch another explosive, he thought, None of them made it right into our room so far but it could next time.

The bitter taste of smoke grew stronger in his mouth. Crackling, angry flames crawled closer, heating up the tiny bedroom. Alfred wiped his brow and pulled himself up. His legs quivered with effort but he took a deep breath. Gripping the underside of the desk with sweaty palms, Alfred crouched down and heaved upwards. He expected to be met with a heavy resistance, he didn't even really expect to be able to lift it. However, as soon as he began to pull, the desk flew up. Narrowly missing the window, it hit the wall with a thundering crashed.

Alfred stared, astonished, at the new crater in their wall. Well, he mused, this is new.

"Alfred what was that?"
As he looked down he saw that Matthew's eyes were wide open. Before Alfred had a chance to come up with some sort of explanation, Matthew let out an ear splitting scream. Then he noticed his brother's legs. Alfred choked. They were bloody and mangled, white stuff that Alfred knew had to be bone stuck up at odd angles.

This was much worse than a gash in his head.

Matthew groaned in agony, trying to push himself up again. Alfred put a hand on his shoulder and said firmly,

"Don't try to sit up."

He pushed gently and Matthew laid back down. He was panting heavily, his face drained of colour underneath the smudged layer of smoke and blood. With a groan, his eyes fluttered shut, his arms went slack and he fell unconscious, Alfred bit his lip. There had to he something he could do for Matthew.

"Please be okay." He whispered.