Dream had continuously shifted worlds more throughout the past week, and had become more proud of himself. Though the time spent in the living world had been short and unmeaningful, he was glad he had some sort of real connection with the world he had lived and loved in.

The constant worries about George plagued him every second of every day, but his constant attempts to shift into George's house again had proved to be failures. He wanted so badly to go back and make sure he was safe, but it had not been enough.

Now Dream sit in the replica of town square, in front of his old bookshop that he had passed down to his son Dave. He wanted to get a glimpse of how his son had been doing, so he sat there for a while trying to get into the world.

It took a few tries, but eventually he had successfully entered the real town square. His body felt the warmth of the vibrant colors that the afterlife had needed but didn't have. It was still a feeling he could not describe. He almost felt alive again.

The door to the bookstore had been closed, causing Dream to groan. He was still not strong enough to open doors, and had to wait until someone would enter the store to be able to walk in.

The store had been in a hidden location that not many people would find, and only customers who regularly shopped there would be constant visitors. The location was the cheapest property, which came with benefits but also lacked the ability to attract attention.

When it proved that waiting would not get him anywhere and his time would be running out, he decided he should walk around. It had been a while since he had entered the small town square, it was a childhood memory he had always kept at the back of his head. Getting ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, the tea store that always gave free samples, and the-

"Medium." Dream's eyes widened as he came to a realization.

As a child, him and Sapnap would go to Town Square and leave their parents to sight-see on their own.

As a result, they came to some weird shops that their parents would not let them go into. Like the butcher shop who's window clearly showed the horrors inside, or the very adult stores that were hidden in plain sight.

One place in particular was one that Sapnap and Dream had frequented was an apparent Medium who could seemingly speak to the dead. They would always dare each other to go inside, or call out the names of ghosts, but both were always scared to do either.

They had learned what a Medium was, and had asked their parents if they could go inside, but were always denied permission.

"Those are just scams, Clay." Dream's mother always told him, "Old bats trying to manipulate you for your money."

Since then, they had stopped going to the store knowing it was fake, but Dream, now dead and desperate, would try anything at this point.

He ran past and through people (a benefit of being a ghost), to the Medium, hoping it would still be there.

Indeed the store still stood, with a small sign that said "I can speak to your long lost love ones." and a larger one beneath it that said "Only $80 per half hourly sessions."

Dream raised his eyebrows. It was quite a high price for just half an hour, which pushed his mother's theory that it was a scam for money. Nonetheless, Dream walked inside, since the door had (thankfully) always been open.

Inside, he saw a man sitting at the table across from a young woman who was in tears. He had his hand on top of hers as he spoke, "and your husband wants you to know that he loves you very much, and how he misses spending Christmas with you."

The woman sniffled, "He was Jewish, he never celebrated Christmas." She started to turn skeptical, but the man tried to save himself.

"Perhaps I misheard," The so-called Medium had corrected, "I believe he said Hanukkah."

When he said that, the young woman had started sobbing again, "Tell him I love him, and so do the kids."

The man nodded and turned to his left with his eyes closed, creating the effect that he was talking to someone who wasn't there, "Your wife Cynthia loves you, and so do your children."

Dream raised his eyebrow, surely if he was talking to another ghost, Dream would have seen. He almost sniggered at how fake the whole act was, but felt bad for the woman who had paid good money thinking she could communicate with her husband.

"Thank you, Charlie." The woman named Cynthia thanked the Medium, "I am oh so thankful that I have gotten closure."

The Medium named Charlie nodded before patting her hand, "It is my pleasure," he smiled, "now if we make our way over to the counter, you will be able to make your payment."

Dream scoffed, this man was the biggest scammer to ever have lived in Florida. He wondered how many people he had fooled with this ridiculous act.

He watched the woman pay Charlie without hesitation, before thanking him in tears once more and walking out of the store.

Charlie peeked to see that she was out the door, before sitting on the waiting room sofa and counting the money, "Oh, what a haul." He said, hugging the money to his chest with a smile.

Dream scoffed again, "This guy is such a con artist." He said out loud.

Charlie's eyes widened, jumping up from the sofa, "Who said that?" He said, "We're closed for lunch break right now, come back later."

Dream suddenly became excited, is it possible the man could hear him?

"I said," Dream said louder, "you're such a con artist."

Charlie turned angry, "Show yourself if you shall insult my passed down for generations talent." He looked around the room wildly, waiting for a person to show up.

"Is it passed down for generations? Or did you get it from acting school?" Dream challenged as he walked closer to Charlie.

Charlie suddenly turned scared, "Where are you?"

"On your right." Dream said before moving to his left, "Now I'm on your left."

Dream passed his hand through the man and Charlie shivered, "Stop jesting me, show yourself." He bellowed.

"I am." Dream said, "See, I just put my hand through you." He did it again, causing Charlie to shiver once more.

Charlie's eyes widened, "Are yo- could you be a-"

"Ghost?" Dream chuckled, "Why so surprised? I thought seeing people like me was your job."

"O-of course it is." Charlie nodded slowly, "Oh God. My mother could see ghosts. She did pass the talent down to me. Oh God I can actually- I mean yes, of course I frequently get visited by spirits such as you." He cleared his throat.

"Mhm." Dream laughed, "My name is Clay and I need your help."

"And why should I help you?" Charlie suddenly turned brave, but Dream was ready for that.

"Oh you don't have to," Dream began, "I'll just have to follow you everywhere you go, watch over you every second of everyday, haunt your sleeping quarters, order the demon under your bed to pull at your fee-"

"Alright!" Charlie put his hands up in surrender, "Only if you prove to me that you are indeed a spirit and this is not some wacky experiment to try and get me to admit I've been scamming people."

"So you are scamming people."

Charlie was silent for a moment, "Listen whoever you are, I've been down bad. This is the only thing I've got left going for me so I'd appreciate if you kept this quiet."

"Well," Dream said, "as a dead person who could I tell, anyway?"

"Good point." Charlie sighed, "Now please can we get whatever you need over it so you can leave me alone."

"Can you see me?" Dream asked curiously even though he already knew the answer.

"No, I cannot see you." Charlie said, "Now you said your name was Clay-"

He suddenly screamed after he said the name.

Dream raised a brow, "What? What is it?"

Charlie walked closer to him before waving his hand inside Dream's body and jumping back, "You- you-"

"You can see me now?"

"Yes I-" Charlie was getting lightheaded.

"Oh jeepers," Dream rolled his eyes, "Don't faint on me now, I need you."

"Alright, alright." Charlie breathed slowly, "What do you need?"

Dream smiled in triumph, "I need you to write down this address."

----

George sit on his couch eating an ice cream and staring at the blank wall ahead. It had been the time when Dream would used to call, but now he had nothing to wait for.

His pants were stained with the residue of mud from sitting by the flowers and taking care of them, just like he had promised.

Thinking about all of it, he wanted to cry again, but felt he had used up all his tears.

He was about to drift off to sleep when his doorbell rang. He knew Wilbur was at work, so he didn't know who it would be.

He opened the door and saw an unfamiliar man, "Er- Hello?"

The man smiled at him awkwardly, "Hello. May. I. Come. In. And. Talk?" He said in a broken sentence.

"Who are you?" George had his hand on the door knob, ready to close it in case it was a dangerous person.

"My name is Charlie and I have come to- to-" Charlie tilted his head, "talk."

"About what, exactly?" George looked suspicious.

Charlie turned to his left, having a whisper conversation to seemingly himself. "I have come to talk to you about Clay Soot."

George flinched at the name, his eyes downcast, "And why would you want to do that?"

"I have spoken to him." Charlie answered slowly and unsure.

"So have I." George said plainly, "Now why do you want to speak to me about him?"

"He is a ghost and he told me he needed to tell you that you are in danger." Charlie spoke with haste, and after realizing what he had just said, put his face in his palm.

George had had enough at that point, and started shutting the door when something stopped it from closing. It had not been Charlie, since he had seen his hands.

"Please, sir." George said, "I do have to go."

"So do I, but this particular spirit is very persistent." Charlie groaned to his left, "Please, let me talk."

"I do not wish to speak about him right now," George said one last time, "now if you'll excuse me."

Charlie suddenly was the one to stop the door from shutting, "Wait! Wrong number!"

George stopped in his tracks, "W-what?"

"He said to call you wrong number and- what?" Charlie turned to his left again, "I don't know what that mean- fine." He turned to George again, "And there's lime green hand prints on your wall. He made them in 1972- oh okay oops, I mean 1970, and you made yours in 2020 and- I don't know he's- STOP YELLING AT ME I'M TRYING, CLAY."

George started backing away quickly in fear, about to kick the door shut.

"Flowers!" Charlie said suddenly, "He gave you flowers. They're calendulas and you have them planted outside."

"Anyone can find that out."

Charlie started whispering madly to his left again, "That's so- fine." Charlie looked at George, "You once peed your pants at a chess match against a girl you had a crush on in fourth year."

George's jaw dropped slightly. He had only told one person that story, but he was not ready to believe it so quickly.

"What was her name?"

Charlie turned to his left and whispered, "He asks so many questions, dear God." He told the imaginary figure that was apparently next to him. He turned to George again, "Her name was Andrea."

George bravely walked closer, slowly but surely. "D-dream?"

Charlie met George's eye, "He said his name isn't Dream." He said, "He said his name is 'old man'"