The Supra-7 was the type of convenience store that kept its shelves stocked at all times. Both a great boon to the neighborhood, and a location situated on a perfect route between his house and work, Scott rarely shopped anywhere else. He was quite surprised when he discovered that there was only one bottle of cold medicine remaining in the store. Well, only one bottle of the kind that can make a person drowsy.

He lifted the tiny bottle of medicine then moved to the register. He asked Danny, young man around Scott’s age, “Hey, got any more of this in the back?”

“Sorry, that is the stuff from the back. It's like crack nowadays. Everyone wants a taste,” replied the clerk.

“Dammit...” growled Scott. He would have to buy more online later.

“You’re going to start dosing, too? That shit’s bad for you...” said Danny.

Scott shrugged. “I actually have a cold, and have insomnia most nights. I’ve used this as a cheap way to get some sleep before.”

“I’m not judging, but there are better ways. You know."

Scott’s left eyebrow shot up and he tilted his head. “Such as?”

“A lot of people have turned to hard exercise and meditation. You’re just as tired, but it’s actually good for you. That shit will kill your liver if you take it too often.”

Vigorous exercise felt like it would be quite draining. Still, Danny did have a point. “I’ll have to give that a try. I’m still getting this today, though.”

Danny nodded. “Right.”

Scott handed him the small bottle of nighttime cold medicine. When Danny scanned it and quoted the price, Scott's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. “Sixteen ninety-five? That shit’s normally four bucks for a bottle this size!”

“Yeah, stores all over have been jacking up the price. Even online sellers are higher than normal. It seems like everyone who isn’t attending an anti-dreamer rally, or grieving a lost loved one, is dosing.” said Danny.

Scott stared down at the bottle of cough syrup. He did not have much money left, but he wanted to explore the dream world for as long as possible every night. Between his cold and the difficulties he normally had when trying to sleep, it would be problematic otherwise.

Recent events exhausted him, and kept him unconscious for a while when he did try to sleep, but such things could not be counted on forever. Exercise started to look more interesting now that the cost to buy his slumber had increased three-fold. Still, he fished out one of his few remaining twenty dollar bills.

Danny nodded to him then asked, “Want a bag?”

“Nah,” said Scott. It was just one little bottle.

“No, you want a bag... People have been getting robbed for this stuff,” said Danny.

“Seriously?” Scott had ignored the general news for a while. Had things really gotten to the point where people would rob you for cough syrup? The dream world was fun, but that sort of reaction was ridiculous.

He took his cold medicine, properly bagged, and left. There were only a few more hours until he could go back to sleep and escape the nightmare known as reality.

On the way home he noticed a large gathering of people off to his left. He looked at them for a moment then snorted.

“Anti-dreamers... Idiots,” muttered Scott. In his mind it was one thing to be against the changes that occurred in the world, but people such as those now gathered were ridiculous about it.

Scott walked on by while a man stood on a makeshift platform and railed against the evils of dreaming. The man’s voice carried quite some distance and drew an ever increasing crowd of onlookers and listeners.

“Beloved! This dream is nothing more than a work of Satan! It seeks to steal you away from your true lives,” cried the ranting man.

A few shouts of hallelujah and amen echoed through the area. Scott picked up his pace. As far as he was concerned they were all diseased and he did not want to catch their plague. He did not have an issue with religion, but he did have an issue with people whom he considered to be fanatical nutcases.

“Stay awake, children! Sleep is a wicked and evil thing. Stay awake in the name of Jaysus!” cried the man in a loud and confident tone.

Scott shook his head. Some people were desperate to listen to anyone who spoke in a sincere sounding tone. He knew that a lot of those people probably lost loved ones, or they were lost in general. Still, the dream was what it was. There was no way to avoid sleep forever.

Two miles up the road he heard another loudly crying voice. He looked to a much smaller group and saw attractive, scantily clad, women passing out fliers. He recognized two of them as local crack whores.

One of the strangely well-groomed whores ran over to him and handed him a flier. “Hey, handsome. Dream of me tonight, OK?”

She grinned at him then unleashed an exaggerated wink. Before he could say anything she spied another guy walking near the area. She rushed off to give him a flier.

Scott looked down at the flier then groaned. It was an advertisement for nighttime love. “Two hundred Jerin an hour?”

Well, he could not blame the whores for being enterprising. If anything, the dream world was the best thing to ever happen to them. They could ply their trade in a whole new world without fear of legal trouble. Though, it would not be surprising in the government cracked down on open dream solicitation.

“How do they make a living from Jerin, though?” Scott had an idea, but he assumed that such things would take a lot longer to implement. It seemed obvious to him now, though. The dream world was slowly turning into a real money trading paradise for enterprising individuals.

Slow was a relative term. Only a little over three days had come and gone since the time when everything began. Everyone, both pure in their religiosity and tempting in their whoreishness alike, became crazed with the possibilities of that alternate world.

Some hated the dream with every fiber of their being, and others did not want to live in this world at all anymore. Yet, there were other groups such as the enterprising ladies whom he'd just met who saw it as an opportunity to live better in both worlds. Most were not quite certain how to make that happen, but there were many ways to make the attempt.

Scott stuffed the flier in his pocket. It was a waste of money now, but who knew. He was not above trafficking with a whore if she bathed more frequently than he did and had most of her teeth.

After reaching the next corner, he casually reached into his pocket and tossed the fliers into the trash. Who was he kidding? "No way that would end well..." he said in an exhausted tone.

He managed to reach his tiny little home without any further issues. The place looked like an old dilapidated warehouse on the outside. Of course, that was due to an excellent reason. It originally was an old warehouse. Still, the hole he lived in came with a chain link fence.

Scott liked a nice fence. If nothing else, his fence made it feel safer for him to live there.

"What's up with my mailbox?" he asked curiously. Certain that he'd closed it earlier, Scott went to check the mail. "Does the mail lady even come round?"

Most services were still down, but it was possible that the mail was running again now that most of the main streets were cleared. The damage in town was worse than what the last hurricane caused.

"Oh, I do have a letter..." said Scott. He pulled it out then blinked. It was a pink enveloped addressed 'For my bestie'.

"Yeah, someone clearly got the wrong house..." he said.

After turning it over and seeing that it was sealed with a kiss, he chuckled, "Pink lipstick... That's cute..."

"Ah well, I can pretend a little," he said before opening it up and pulling out a letter. He scanned it quickly, but was only more convinced that someone delivered it to the wrong place.

Hi Bestie! It's been so long!

Are you excited to hear from me? Lots of things have changed, right?

Anyway, I'll come visit as soon as I've settled in! Love ya bunches, and bunches.

Goodness this is so exciting! I'm practically squealing while I write this!

Your Super Bestie

PS: I put a photo inside, cuz a few things in my life have developed since the last time we saw each other.

(You may worship me if you wish.) *Gigglez*

Scott pulled out a photo situated inside then blinked. His left eyelid twitched a little. "God... damn..."

The photo prepared for the so-called 'Bestie' was the image of a goddess. There were no two ways to describe the girl in the picture. Her physical beauty was simply inhuman.

"Is this chick into cosplay?" A mixture of features that could be anything from Latina to Asian, the girl had extremely bright red hair tied in a ponytail, a warm smile, and wore an outfit that could barely be qualified as clothes.

"Is that the outfit Mai Shiranui wears?" Admittedly, she filled it out to an incredible degree. He'd love to have a best friend like her.

Strangely, she actually seemed slightly familiar. However, he could not place her. He certainly did not know any busty ninja girl cosplayers, especially not one who would call him her bestie.

After entering his modest home, he walked into his room and plopped the cough syrup down on his night stand. Afterward he eyed the clutter and garbage in his room then sighed. He lacked the energy for such things, but he did make it a habit to clean up his house every few weeks.

Two hours later he managed to pick up the last of the garbage, straightened up in general, and finished doing his laundry. It was only another hour or so until it would be time to go back to sleep. Until then he wanted to spend his time studying about that other world.

He turned on his television as well; he liked to have noise in the background. The first thing to pop up on screen was an advertisement. Scott’s eyes widened slightly.

“Do you dream of big, big, money? Buy house? Want a car like I buy? You pay me, and you get nice things. You get too many nice things, have to buy new house to put things in. Send me money! Be wealthy. You like it!” cried a man who looked to be some variety of Asian. Scott was not good with figuring out another person’s ethnicity, but the man onscreen definitely seemed to be Asianish.

Scott blinked when he noticed that the man was accepting both dollars and Jerin. “Isn’t this too soon?”

The dream was only three days old, yet people were jumping all over it as a business opportunity. What if it suddenly stopped? This seemed like too much, too soon. Still, he planned to spend a lot of time in that world. Saving money there might not be a bad idea for the future.

The advertisement ended, and a news broadcast covering some sort of announcement by the president appeared on screen. Scott watched for a moment then shook his head. “Dream taxes? Really?”

“You know what, screw you guys,” he said.

The government was scrambling to find a way to maintain control. The first thing said other than a quick speech about coming together as a nation is that a bill had been drafted that would require people to pay taxes on Jerin earned in the dream world.

“Fellow Americans, in this time of struggle and change we need to stand together...” continued the moron-in-chief.

Scott turned his TV in disgust. It was like the world had gone crazy a few days prior and everyone wanted to live in crazy land full-time. Worse, a few elements in the government were trying to enforce its extraterritorial nature on an entirely different world. That was a waste of time and energy. There was no way to enforce taxation on the currency of a world no one even knew about, yet. They might be able to tax the real money trading efforts on Earth, but who was going to collect in the dream?

“I like the place, but why does everyone act like the dream will last forever?” asked Scott to his empty room. It was a highly vivid and interactive place, but there was no guarantee that it would be a permanent part of life.

Idly, he wondered if this was what it was like after people in Europe learned of an entirely unknown continent across the ocean. It seemed like everyone wanted to carve out their piece of the pie.