His lips pursed to utter the next word but Ibrahim stared deeply into his plate. His lips hovered apart from one another. Cheryl took the next bite with intrigue.

Within the living room, the couch jittered. It rattled softly along with the carpet at first but then clanged as one leg lifted and dropped from a taller height. The fridge swayed back and forth as it marched from the wall. Cheryl noticed the shivering objects and wafting curtains. Wino centered his attention upon Ibrahim. The two appeared lost in time to the increased popping and sparking of the frying pan.

Cheryl mumbled, “Is the stove still on?” She urgently slides one foot out from underneath the table.

Immediately, Wino responded, “It’s off.”

His profile appeared chiseled out of stone. The TV flickered itself on. The channels accelerated. Cheryl nervously clutched the fork in her hand. She motioned towards Ibrahim. Suddenly, Ibrahim’s focus snapped and he angled at her with a detestable look.

The two froze for a moment, breaking as Ibrahim faced Wino.

“I told you she shouldn’t stay here.”

Wino changed the subject, “Go ahead, what happened after you challenged him?”

Cheryl lowered her arm as the serene ambiance returned. The curtains draped over the carpet while the television shut off.

Ibrahim narrated, “Anyways, I take out my wand to challenge the guy. And when he turns to me, he’s wearing my face with ruby red eyes. At first, I thought it was a mask, but eventually, I found out it’s real – I mean he’s real. He’s me. The guy doesn’t say anything, he just takes the wand and, and he’s better than me with it.”

Cheryl and Wino split their lips, jaws hanging slightly at Ibrahim’s admission of weakness.

“So what’re you going to do?” Cheryl inquired.

Wino supported her, “Do you think you can beat him? I mean he’s you?” Ibrahim sat quiet. Upon his lap, he scanned his wand laid across his thighs. The violet scepter rested silently, its orb sleeping dormant beneath an undulating hue.

“Maybe it means something,” Cheryl suggested. “Maybe you’re scared of something and this is your way of dealing with it. It’s showing itself through your nightmares.”

“Are you scared, Ibrahim?”

Ibrahim snapped at Wino, “Are you mad? Me? Scared?” The couple retracted as Ibrahim continued, “Ibrahim fears no man, especially not some person that’s not even real.”

Cheryl grinned. “But do you fear yourself?”

“No one. No-bo-dy.”

“What about the police or The General?” Wino added.

Sitting up, Ibrahim intensified his tone, “Listen, you may fear them, but I fear no-bo-dy.” He corkscrewed his neck back and forth with every syllable, “No-bo-dy!”

“Another magician?” Cheryl smiled, egged him on.

“Ask this klutz.” Ibrahim jerked his finger towards Wino, perking up higher in his chair. “We’ve fought tons of magicians and I beat them. I saved this world twice!”

“I wonder if Nedu would know anything about this,” Wino suggested silencing the room.

Ibrahim reclined in his chair, still steaming from the absurdly insulting suggestions. Judging from their silent consensus, the trio believed Nedu to be the next best option. This would also grant Cheryl, who had little exposure to Nedu, to see him up close and personal. Who was this third member of their past? More importantly, was he as quirky and unpredictable as Ibrahim or timid and enabling like Wino?

***

Ibrahim stretched out upon the couch. His fingers interlocked atop his belly. His toes fluttered past one another, while a grin stretched across his face.

“That tickles,” he giggled as a chocolate donut slid over his breast. Nedu towered over Ibrahim despite being seated on a dining chair beside the sofa. He dawned a white lab coat and uses a pair of white headphones plugged into the donut to measure Ibrahim’s pulse.

“Hold still,” Nedu commanded, a grin also sneaking onto his face.

Cheryl hunched over her crossed arms. She rested her chin over her knees watching from the adjacent couch. Wino switched the faucet off from the kitchen as he stepped around the counter. He flung water off his fingers.

“Got anything yet Dr. Ned?”

“Let the man work, Wino,” Ibrahim instructed.

Wino halted at the armrest of the chair, arching over and casting a shadow upon Ibrahim.

“Well,” Nedu twirled around, slithering his hand into the pearl-white box seated on the table. He retrieved another donut, this one with polka dot chunks of milk cocoa and coffee brown chocolate icing. “I think he’s okay.”

Nedu sank his teeth into it. Ibrahim gulped the other donut. His mouth widened like a bear trap as he says Aaah.

“Sorry,” Cheryl interjected, her face mushed into the couch. “I don’t think this is how medicine works.”

“Sure it is,” Nedu replied, stealing another bite.

“Don’t mind her.” Ibrahim leaned over the cushion. “Did you go to med school?”

“I know you didn’t,” she retorted.

“Don’t you know Nedu went to one of the best med schools in the country – in the whole world?”

“Which one is that?”

“Ibrahim School of Medicine,” Wino calmly added with a smirk.

“Okay, so now I’m sure that’s not how it works,” Cheryl snapped back at Ibrahim.

Nedu tucked up his shorts and squatted down onto the white seat beside Ibrahim.

“Okay,” he tossed the final fragment into his mouth like a black hole and asked Ibrahim, “So what’s really going on? Are you scared? Anxious?”

Ibrahim’s smile evaporated as he heaved impatiently, “Why does everyone keep asking me this? I’m not scared of anyone! You should know this. You were there.”

“He says he sees himself,” Wino answered.

Nedu read the seriousness of the room. “You see yourself, Ibrahim?” he asked.

Ibrahim relaxed his throat. His skull sank into the armrest like quicksand. He scanned the rooftop. “So what do you do with yourself then? Bake a cake? Make statues? Tell yourself bedtime stories? I know you love no one like yourself,” asked Nedu.

“He fights himself,” Cheryl responded.

“Oh, well then you can’t lose, can you?” Nedu shrugged.

Ibrahim cleared his throat.

Wino commented, “This would be easier if we could just get inside his head.”

“Good luck getting out,” Cheryl snickered.

“That way, we could see the Nega-Ibrahim and figure out what’s going on.”

Nedu and Ibrahim glanced at Wino. They shared a thought and not long after sat Wino next to Ibrahim on the couch. Nedu angled Wino’s head onto Ibrahim’s shoulder. Ibrahim clenched his wand with a fist, cupping it within his other palm.

Wino worriedly protested, “I was just saying it would be a good idea.”

“Yeah,” Nedu responded. “That’s why we’re trying it.”

Cheryl stood behind the table, knuckles against her hips and confusedly inspecting the setup.

Wino squirmed in discomfort. “But I didn’t think we could really do it.”

“Welp, that sucks,” Dr. Ned responded.

“Have you done this before or are you guys copying a movie or something?” Cheryl asks.

“We’ve done it before. Birdbrain just doesn’t remember it.” Ibrahim responded.

“He probably figured the dream was his own.” Nedu grinned.

“How does it work?” Cheryl inquired. “Do they have to fall asleep?”

“With their heads touching,” Nedu clarified. “Then someone acts as the host while the other connects into their dream through magic.”

“What if Wino can’t fall asleep?” She folded her arms.

Nedu buckled his knuckles with his thumb. Depressing each one, a pop crackled into the air. “I can fix that.”