Spencer heard the humming before he opened his eyes. It seemed to reverberate through his skull, but it wasn't unpleasant. His eyelids creeped open and he stared at the wooden ceiling above him. The room was lit with the bronze glow of the large overhead chandeliers. He sat up and the room seemed to alter as he did. He observed the room. There was a stage with red curtains in front of him, but the walls of the theater were filled with book filled shelves. It was a beautiful place and he stood slowly. There were large oak tables that matched the interior of the library/theater tastefully.

"It's nice, isn't it?" A feminine voice said from behind him. He turned to look at the person who asked the question.

"Yes," He answered simply. She blinked and focused her eyes, which had been wandering the room, back on him. She had dark hair and bangs, which almost obscured her eyes. She wasn't wearing much makeup, just mascara that was smudged under one eye.

"You're knew," she said as she examined him. He blinked.

"So are you." He realized that he had never seen her before. He would remember. "The human brain can't just create faces." He muttered, puzzled by this mystery.

"Just because you don't remember it, doesn't mean you've never seen me; we all forget things. Besides, you're not even really here." She chuckled.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Well… my brain made you up, silly. At least, it made up your personality."

"How do you figure?" He sat down at the chair across from her.

"Well, I've obviously never met you, and this is my dream, so…" She gestured vaguely. He nodded and extended his hand.

"Doctor Spencer Reid," He greeted. She took his hand in a firm grip.

"Doctor Maeve Donovan."

"So, where are we?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Someplace I read about in a book once, I think." She said. He nodded. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Do you play chess, Spencer?" Maeve asked.

"Um, yeah, actually." He looked down and there was suddenly a chess board in front of him.

"Care to play?" his eyes lit up.

"I would love to." They both studied the board and she made the first move. "I never get to play chess anymore." he commented as he took out one of her pawns.

"Why?" she tilted her head slightly. He shrugged.

"I travel a lot for work- I'm an FBI agent." He said. She moved her rook.

"FBI, huh?" She inquired.

"Yeah, I know I don't look like much of an agent, but," He shrugged. "What do you do?" He asked.

"I'm, uh, a geneticist." She told him.

"Really? What-" He paused, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

"Spencer?" Was the last thing her heard before blackness washed over his vision.

When he opened his eyes again, it was to the ringing of his cellphone. He groaned and reached to stop the infernal sound. It was his work phone, at the ungodly hour of 4:30am. He cursed silently and opened the phone.

"We've got a case." Hotch informed him. Reid sighed.

"I'll be there in 45," He muttered and they hung up. Early morning wake up calls were never good. He thought of Maeve as he got ready, wondering if she could have been real. It wasn't exactly a stretch, considering what he had seen before. He caught himself hoping she was real- and that he would see her when he next dreamt.

A/N: So, this is my interpretation of the prompt ahowell1993 requested :) It might evolve into it's own story though.