It was a lazy summer afternoon and Ashley had her eyes closed as she listened to her grandmother tell stories in the shade of the porch.
"You know," Her grandmother started slowly, "There's a place you visit each night?"
"My bed?" Ashley asked.
"Haha," Her grandmother laughed duly, "No."
Her grandmother then lit a cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke. "A place you visit when your eyes are closed. That place you visit when you dream."
She flicked away ashes and continued, "It's something my grandma told me and I'm pretty sure my mother told yours."
"What was it?" Ashley asked, leaning in eagerly.
"Dreamland," She said. "Those who dream visit it. Those who don't aren't so lucky. From what my grandmother told me, it's a spectacular place with all kinds of places. Each differing from the other. A farmland patched together and run by stuffed animals to a land made completely of candy."
"You're making it up," Ashley said skeptically.
"You're a rotten child who doesn't know how to respect her elders," Her grandmother glared.
"How could something like that exist if you could only get to it when you were dreaming?"
"Because it's on a different plane of existence than the one we're on. Which is why the only mode of transportation is sleep. At least for humans. There are few, only a few, that can make it over to our plane of existence. They're very special."
"Who?"
"Depends on where in the world you are," Her grandmother responded. "Nearly each country has their own name for them."
"Has anyone seen them?"
"If they do, they aren't recognized. When they come here, they are the masters of disguise. They make sure that nobody notices them so they can do their work."
"Grandma? Do you believe in all of that?"
She rocked slowly backwards as she thought. "Yes. I really do."
"But, Grandma, how can you believe something you can't prove?"
Her grandmother held her eyes tightly shut. "Ash-bell," She said firmly. "Go inside and leave me alone for a bit."
"But, Grandma-"
"Leave me alone!"
Ashley ran inside. The door slammed behind her as she hid by the stairs. After a while of waiting, Ashley tip-toed to the glass door and peered outside.
Her grandmother was still in the rocking chair. She sat still with a withered hand held over her eyes. Her chest heaved in an odd pattern. A sharp pang of guilt shot through Ashley as she realized that her grandmother was crying. Ashley slowly backed away and sat in the kitchen. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to make her grandmother feel all better, but she also knew that she was the one who made her grandmother cry.
Instead, Ashley waited. Several minutes later, her grandmother came into the kitchen. Her thin lips pursed into a small smile.
"Sorry, Grandma." Ashley blurted.
Her grandmother shrugged. "You're as critical and as stubborn as your father."
But I didn't mean to make you cry, she wanted to say.
Her grandmother sat both of their drinks on the counter next to the sink. "I simply thought that telling you the stories that were passed on to me and your mother by our grandmothers would be something special. They were for me, anyway." She looked at the clock and sighed. "I suppose I should get you off to bed. Your mother's going to have a fit if she sees that I let you stay up this late."
Ashley got up and gave her grandmother a tight hug. Then, silently, Ashley went up to her room.
As she was pulling her curtains shut, she saw that her mother was in the yard. She seemed to be yelling at someone, but Ashley wasn't able to tell. Her grandmother quickly paced out to the lawn and said something passionately to her daughter. Soon, they were yelling at each other. Eventually, Ashley's mother walked off and her grandmother came back into the house. The door slammed loudly, vibrating through the whole house.
Pulling the curtains tightly shut, Ashley climbed under and pulled a coin from under her pillow. Her thumb circled the golden surface. She took in a deep breath and put it in her pajama's pockets.
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