This had to be the weirdest dream I'd ever had, and THAT was saying something. I'd never had a start to the morning my entire life that didn't leave me confused or terrified, but this one was quickly taking the number one spot on both scales.

Maybe this was my brain's way of dealing with the fact that I was such a screwup that mom had to send me to Yancy. Just my luck, I'd promised her this time would be different and here I was having a mental breakdown right before I got shipped off.

The dream started off pretty normal, waking up, getting out of bed, with the way I'd normally drag my half dead corpse to the bathroom nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Then I looked in the mirror.

The eyes that stared back at me were not my own. I expected aquamarine, I received azure. Eyes a brighter blue than I'd ever seen before stared back at me with… confusion? Clearly I'd still not woken up, but as I tried to reach those same eyes, hopefully to rub away the sleep that obviously still clung to me, I realized with fear that I couldn't.

Of course I'd had nightmares that started out feeling like real life, but it never got easier when that spike of panic hit, knowing this wasn't real, that I wasn't safe, and as if on queue, I heard the tapping of feet on hardwood. Readying myself for a 4 headed man or a lady with snakes for hair to breach the door, I was surprised to find it was just my mother.

The following scene would have been funny had this not obviously been fabricated by my mind to deal with the stress of being a disappointment. The awkward banter between mom and "I" was so almost what would normally play out between us. Cutting through the tension of something like boarding school with humor. We'd both started doing that recently, a coping mechanism designed to deal with the crappy way our lives were playing out. Still, the way my eyes lingered on her, as if I was unfamiliar with what she looked like, was the thing that reminded me that this wasn't real.

After reminding me about the luggage I barely finished packing the night before, she left, and I wondered if I was about to create the entirety of my first day at Yancy just to have to wake up and experience it again before I found myself walking to the picture on my nightstand. It was a photo I cherished, her and I on my 9th birthday. She looked so happy then. It was rare that she ever looked like that now.

"All Smelly Gabe's fault," I thought with no small amount of bitterness. A second passed and I felt the grip on the picture falter, almost becoming too weak to hold it up. Weird, nothing I had done before seemed to influence this weird dream/nightmare combination. My vision changed from picture focus to panoramic swing as my eyes swept the room in a quick once over before I'd heard something that truly sent panic through me like a bolt of lightning.

"Oh, there you are." I said. Except, this wasn't me. Before, when mom was here, I'd been distracted and more focused on her than myself. Despite the voice still sounding like me, the tone was stretched and scratchy sounding.

That was all I had time to process before a wave of darkness crashed into my vision and I felt myself pulled into unconsciousness.

I was on the cold floor when I regained my senses. I was met with a sight that reminded me of the time I'd watched a boring documentary of the New York sewer system in 5th grade science, accompanied by an earthy smell, similar to mold. The lighting was dull, supplied by two wall mounted torches set on brick walls that seemed old. "Please forgive the lack of warning, it's been a long time since I've been here," that same voice echoed off the unstable walls.

I grew impatient, hey, call me an idiot if you want but I wasn't exactly thrilled at having to deal with this ridiculous stress dream the night before heading to freaking boarding school.

"Yeah, I'll forgive you, if you promise to pinch me so I can get this over with," I growled. Maybe not the best idea to antagonize it-myself-whatever, but I was so done with this. I could try and decipher what this meant later… or never, preferably.

A strangled chuckle met my brazen comments. "I haven't met too many people that could deny reality to such an extent. Well, that's a lie, I knew a whole group of people that harbored such delusions. But doing so with such brashness, it reminds me of myself when I was younger." I could almost hear the reminiscing smile that came with those words. Then the words themselves hit me.

"Deny reality? What exactly is real about any of this? I'm sitting in the world's worst haunted waste management system talking to a voice that- you know what, I'm done with this." I rose to my feet and attempted to deliver the strongest slap to the face I could muster when an arm shot out of the darkness and grabbed my own.

"Still doing this? I get it, well, not really. Sure I've woken up confused, countless times at this point. This is the first time someone has been here to receive me." He, definitely he, spoke. The same sky blue eyes from earlier stared me down, they were intense. They were the only thing intense about him really. The rest of him held a lack of color, almost as if he'd been left in the sun to dry like a basketball.

I yanked my arm back when I regained my ability to think. Stumbling back I responded with the elegance and grace expected in such a situation. "What the hell!?"

More chuckles, noticeably less strained than before. "I believe the phrase is "What the Hades" nowadays," he seemed to think that was a clever joke, with how his lips turned into a half smile. "Look, I've never been good at explaining things. I used to think it came with time, but clearly it doesn't." He darkened at that comment before continuing. "I'd like to start by introducing myself."

I stared at him for a full minute. Just when I was about to risk it and go for the face slap again, he sent his fist out. I must have flinched, the way he retracted the fist just slightly, a frown now adorning his face. The fist remained, however, as did an expectant look, flowing between my eyes, his outstretched fist, and my own hand, which I now realized was balled up in its own closed palm fashion.

"You- ah, you want me to do what, exactly?" I stammered out, embarrassment overtaking unease for a moment. His eyes blinked, and his face shifted from frown to flush, sliding his other hand to rub the back of his head in a sheepish manner. "Sorry, I'm not exactly used to this. Before today no one has ever been in the vessel I'm bound to inhabit," he seemed genuinely embarrassed as well, "I believe it's still called a fist bump right?" His hand returned to the same space as before, eyes expectant despite his earlier hesitation.

Ok, sure, in the dungeon with a stranger asking for a fist bump of all things. I'm sure mom would send me to worse places than Yancy if she knew I was imagining things like this…

I tried one more time to wake up via mental force and sighed. "Alright, if it means getting this trip out of the way then sure." I brought my fist up and stared up at him, why didn't I notice how tall he was before, and knocked my knuckles into his. His eyes flashed.

My vision exploded.