Lizzie entered the classroom fully clothed. She had a presentation due today and a partner who was a flake. She hoped he’d actually show up. The last time she had a presentation, her partner had insisted on doing all the work, which she found annoying at the time. Now that she had a flakey one, she realized having an overachiever for a partner was better than the opposite side of the spectrum.

She glanced at the desks. All Lizzie’s classmates were present except her partner. She sat through the Pledge of Allegiance and the morning prayer, and she tugged at her uniform skirt through all the other presentations, only half-paying attention to all of them. Then came her and her partner’s turn. She suddenly realized he wasn’t marked absent, and in fact was now sitting at his desk.

“When did he get here?” whispered Lizzie. She could’ve sworn he wasn’t present for roll call. But whatever, she had a presentation to perform. She made her way up to the front of the classroom, resisting the urge to nervously tug at her skirt.

Her partner went up there with her.

It began fine. They introduced the topic and her partner started spewing facts and figures, holding up the board they’d made for the visual section of the project. It came time for each of them to do their own speeches without referring to each other, and her partner went first.

Half the class was dozing. Their topic wasn’t an important one to most, if not all, of the student body.

Her partner’s speech section of the presentation ended, and it became time for Lizzie to talk.

Her mind went blank.

She tried to figure out what she was going to say, and a long silence stretched on and on.

She just couldn’t think of it.

She was so unprepared!

The class stared at her. All of them now, not just half or another small portion. All of them.

Sure, she was messing up by not talking, but that didn’t merit everyone staring wide-eyed at her. It especially didn’t make it okay for the class clown in the back to point at Lizzie and start snickering.

Lizzie, project forgotten, tried to tug at the hem of her skirt.

It was gone.

There was no hem. There was no skirt. There was no anything.

She was naked in front of the whole class! Everyone whispered amongst themselves and the class clown got them all to make fun of the situation. Lizzie bit her lip and tried to cover herself with her arms, but there was no erasing what everyone had already seen. Tears welled up in her eyes and she screamed.

Then, at the back of the class, there was a woman with a rotting neck. She was fully clothed and carried a sword. Lizzie didn’t know her, and the class didn’t acknowledge her arrival.

“I am Akki,” said the woman. She walked down the center of the aisle, approaching Lizzie. “Slayer of Nightmares.”

Lizzie screamed again. She backed away, doing her best to cover herself while she retreated.

Akki stopped her approach.

“I had clothes before,” said Lizzie. “I had clothes on. Where’d they go?”

“Ah,” said Akki.

“Ah? What ah?”

“This nightmare is common.”

“Nightmare?”

“Were you not aware you’re dreaming?”

It took a second, but then the realization came alive in the dreamscape. The colors of the room sharpened and saturated. Lizzie’s partner faded into the background as if he were in a photographer’s lens being adjusted. The rest of the class alternated between being hyper-focused and hazy. Lizzie looked down at herself, still covering her chest and nether regions as best she could. It was surreal to look at herself now, know she was dreaming, and yet not wake up. She’d never been lucid in the dreamscape before.

“Well that’s a relief,” said Lizzie cautiously. “But how do I wake up?”

“Let’s solve the first problem first.” Akki inched a little closer. “May I?”

“May you what?”

“Assist you.”

“What’s wrong with your neck?”

Akki took a step backward. She brought her hands up to cover her neck. “It’s genetic and not contagious.”

“Well, it’s gross.”

“I am well aware.” Akki bowed. “Apologies. If you would rather I not help—”

“—No, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I just.” Lizzie had her arms covering her chest. She patted her own shoulders. “I just need to fix this. Where are my clothes? Where’d they go?”

“The dreamscape has many mysteries.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“What I do know,” said Akki. “Is you can create new clothes out of the dreamscape.” By demonstration, Akki put her arm out and made a pulling motion. There was a stretchy sort of invisible sensation against Lizzie’s head as Akki moved, which stopped when Akki stopped. As Akki had pulled on the dreamscape, or whatever she’d been doing that made Lizzie’s head feel weird, a length of cloth had materialized from thin air and followed Akki’s fingertips.

The cloth resembled a robe. It looked soft and comfortable. It also happened to be Lizzie’s favorite color: robin’s egg blue.

Akki caught it before it could hit the ground. She presented it to Lizzie.

Lizzie tried to take the cloth gracefully but wound up snatching it. She clothed herself.

Akki bowed and turned toward where she’d entered the classroom, seeming to be about to leave.

“Wait.” Lizzie tied the clothing more snugly around herself. “How’d you do it? The pulling things out of thin air thing.”

“I decided to.” Akki spun back around, apparently choosing to indulge Lizzie. “The dreamscape is malleable if you know how to manipulate it. In a way, it’s like the waking world in that it’s sometimes stubborn yet sometimes willing to yield. Each dreamer’s dreamscape is different, and yours was willing to compromise.”

“You talk like the dreamscape is alive.”

“You’re alive. It’s your dreamscape. Why would it not be?”

“I never thought of it like that.”

Akki smiled.

“So are you going to go?”

“My job here is done unless you’re still afraid.”

“I’m not.”

“So my role in this dreamscape has ended.” With that, Akki dematerialized in the opposite sort of way that the clothing had materialized before. All that was left was one last comment echoing on the air. “Pleasant dreams.”