“Messing with your dreams?” Nick asked, cocking an eyebrow, and raising his pinky with intrigue. “What ever do you mean?”

Mena gritted her teeth, leaning in close to Nick. “There are tiny men in my head, invading my dreams. They are telling me what I can and can’t dream about. You and your army of mind controlled men are ruining my ladyhood fantasies”

Nick gave a nervous chuckle and backed away. “Uhh…you might want to get that checked out.”

His nonchalance was met with glares from everyone in the room. Even as a cat, Auntie Grizebella gave off a mean resting witch face.

At last, Nick shrugged his shoulders and approached Mena again. “Ok, I’m kidding around. That IS the Dream Police faction in Mena’s head—Nick slyly smiled as everyone gasped—“But Mena didn’t you tell me you wanted to make dreams a better place for everyone?”

“I did,” Mena said softly, her eyes turning away from his.

“Worry not,” Nick said and placed his arms on Mena’s slumped shoulders. “Those Dream Police are only protecting you.”

“From what?” Janus asked, stomping towards Nick in a way that made him cower. “Invading her mind sure doesn’t seem like a way to protect her.”

“I tell you this kindly, Bones,” Nick remarked, turning aside from Janus, “but my men are protecting her from herself.”

Mena’s jaw dropped open like it was busted off its hinges. “Wait a minute? Whaaaaaaa?”

Nick casually stood in the corner of the room, a place where he was safe from the ire of Mena and Janus. “Do you know what happens to young girls who constantly dream dirty dreams?”

“No,” Mena squeaked in terror. “What?”

Nick held his hand to his head and projected an image of a building that read ‘Dirty Dreams Cinema,’ in vivacious neon red letters flamed in a fluffy cloud. The cloud was stained with mud-like filth. Nick’s face glistened in the flickering red lights.

“If you keep having those dirty dreams, you’ll end up on Skid Mind.”

“Skid Mind?” The three girls asked with wide eyes.

“Skid Meow?” Grizabella added, equally puzzled.

“Yes, Skid Mind, where you’ll project your dirty dreams for a bunch of weird men in raincoats who value you for your mind and not your body.”

Mena sighed in relief. “But as girls isn’t that what we want?”

Nick held up his hands and twiddled them in a spooky fashion. “But you have a dirty mind, so it doesn’t matter.”

A surprisingly coincidental clap of thunder followed, and Mena shrieked with her hands to her cheeks. “Oh nosies, what should I do, guys? I don’t want to be turning mind tricks.”

Janus gave a wry smile and patted her friend on the back. “Don’t ask me. There ain’t no changing my dirty mind. It’s infested with worms… literally.”

Mena turned to May next, “My mummy always tells me to pray so I don’t have naughty dreams. It usually works…except when I read the extra juicy sections in Penwell’s books.”

“Ooooor…” Nick said, sliding between Mena and her friends, “You can have a Purity-of-Mind ring, like yours truly.”

Nick reached in the top pocket of his sweater vest and unveiled a band of gold emblazoned with the Clear Mind Eye insignia. “Wow,” Mena said, observing the trinket. “It’s very pretty.”

Grizebella’s extreme resting witch face grilled Nick from across the room. She dabbed her tail in ink and wrote a letter in her catligraphy. With a swish of her tail, she sent the letter into Nick’s hands.

“I understand your concern, Ms. Willow,” Nick said after having read the note. “And I’d never not explain the effects of this ‘suspicious paraphinalia to your niece. Fact is, all it does is buzz harmlessly whenever she thinks dirty thoughts and sends a pleasant, wholesome, reminder to her mind instead. That’s all.”

“Well,” Mena pleaded. “If it keeps me out of Skid Mind…”

Grizabella’s cute kitten face did not lighten one iota as she looked at Mena, but at last, she shook her head, scrawled on another note and sent it flying to Mena.

“Go ahead, but don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” Mena read, “But do not tarry, we must head to Penwell’s. It seems there’s a storm coming.”

“Great,” Mena said with a happy bounce. “We should head out.” She slipped the golden ring on her finger and examined it. As she did, Nick casually flexed, and Mena observed it with a hint of drool in the corner of her mouth. Immediately, there was a powerful shock coursing through her body, causing her to shake profusely and her eyes to bulge. With a slight smell of smoke emanating from her skin, Nick chuckled, “How do you feel?”

Mena weakly pumped her hands up in the air. “Like I got my mind out of the gutter…and into the frying pan.”

She toppled over onto the floor and Auntie Grizabella slapped her tail over her eyes.

***

Mena, her auntie and her friends headed downstairs. Exiting the lobby, they walked onto the crowded streets of Wormwood. Ominous clouds swirled in the direction of Penwell’s Love Ink company, and it looked like there could be rain at any second. It began to drizzle. As the skies opened up from above, a shirtless jogger ran by them. He was built with an eight pack of abdominal and a V shape below them usually fit for the statues of the Autolycan God, Adorenis. Beads of sweat and raindrops glistened on his body like a moist rotisserie liccan.

“Homina homina homina,” Mena muttered before she endured another shock. I mean “Hoo’ man I, don’t need a man like that. I’m a fragile lily.”

“Best to keep our minds on the mission anyway,” Janus said and frowned. “Though I’ve smelled electrocutioners chairs that smelled better than you, Mena. And I don’t even have a nose.”

“Thanks…” Mena said, her thick hair now frizzed and spikey as she twitched.

When they arrived, Janus asked May, “Oh May, what did they tell you the objective for today was?”

“Today we are imprinting ourselves in our dreams,” May said and she squirmed uncomfortably in her magi-chair. “I sure hope it isn’t painful.”

“Don’t worry,” Mena said, leaning on May’s magi-chair and patting her friend on the back. “We’ll be watching over you from above”—suddenly Mena hopped in front of her friend—“By the by, do you have a kumquat with you?”

“Don’t I always,” May said, removing one from her shirt, “I couldn’t help pilfering it from the dining hall.”

Mena took it and put it on her head. “Put it on your head if you’re in trouble. That’ll be the signal.”

“In the meantime,” Janus said, “We’ll sneak in the side door and work on getting past that veil of shadows when your session is over.”

“Ok,” May said and nodded. She puffed out her cheeks. Mena could tell her friend was ready for day two of Penwell’s Seminar.

***

As May entered the building, she noticed a significant change in the seminar room: the number of girls had been reduced from thirty to fifteen. But even more daunting was the fifteen mental notes that had been lined up for each of the girls. May hovered right next to Poshleen, who greeted her. “Ah May,” Poshleen said, lifting up her bonnet to greet her. “I’m happy to see you’ve made it to round two. Perhaps our deepest dreams will be realized.”

May lifted her hand with a round faced smile, but before she could talk, Penwell stumbled out. Her long skunk striped hair was frayed, and her face was even more weathered and creased. Her bottle of wine was on hand, as usual, but she reeked of even stronger alcohol. “Today, my students you will learn the true struggle and strife of being a successful writer”—Penwell threw her hands up dramatically, pointing into space. “It’s no bed of roses, more like a crown of thorns. You will suffer before you hit the big time.”

Like a bunch of frogs in a spring bog, there were a series of audible gulps, even from May’s throat.

Penwell cast her hands to the giant notepads and they all flipped open, shuffling to a clean sheet of mind paper. “Day one” Penwell exclaimed, her eyes wild and blood shot. “You saw your dreams. Day two: You will wring them from your miserable minds onto the page. The greatest ones shall be finalized into works of A-R-T.”

There was a starry look that diverted some of the girl’s timid faces, but May already knew from Mena’s experience that it was too good to be true.

“Hold your hand to the paper,” Penwell commanded. “And prepare to face up to the beauty and terror of your dreams.”

The crazed author gave a slight wink. “And you will see if they can face up to you.”

Each girl listened to Penwell’s demand and placed their hand to the page. Every page billowed like ripples in a brook, reflecting expansive mind space. May did the same and the silhouette of her ideal self, appeared before her. The bespectacled, beautiful and dominant business woman looked at May and her glasses reflected with a sinister glare. Suddenly, a hand reached out from the page and pulled May straight out of her magi-chair.

“Are you ready to face up to your dreams… literally?” the ideal reflection snarled in her deep, husky voice as she pulled May inside the giant piece of paper, into her dream world.