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absence of the Somnium’s green lights. The nightmare had returned as well as the cold sweats, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t even spring out of his bed this time, but laid there and let the beads of sweat make their way down the sides of his face. They created little imperfect black circles in the already dark blue sheets. The dream wasn’t parasitically attached to his thoughts. He focused, instead, on the realization that he had reached his decision.
    When day broke, Ian dressed and made sure to put the piece of paper Wasley gave him in his jean’s pocket. After breakfast his father inquired about Ian’s professor, “Isn’t Mr. Wasley supposed to be here by now?”
    â€œOh…” Ian searched his mind for an excuse. “He said that he’d be at the school late, so he won’t make it today.”
    â€œFair enough,” his father remarked. “I guess you have a day off today.” He smiled at his son before exiting. Ian noticed that he didn’t say good bye to his mother and, strangely, she didn’t seem to care much.
    â€œAre you going to visit Grandpa today, Mom?” Ian asked, knowing that her departure would create the only window of opportunity for him to leave. She’d be gone for most of the day, so maybe he’ll be back before her as well.
    â€œNope,” she replied, “they’re going to try a new type of treatment for his cancer today. He won’t be available for visits.”
    â€œOh,” his heart sank. He pushed his chair out and took his dishes to the sink, “That’s good.”
    â€œI don’t have work either. So, I get to be here all day with you.” He heard the smile in her voice as she walked into the living room. With a quiet sigh, he sat at the dining table and met eyes with his reflection. Maybe between the both of us, we can figure something out , he thought. As could be predicted, the house didn’t seem as cold with his mother’s presence. He sat and basked in the figurative warmth she emitted, even though she had left the room. For a moment the nightmare, and all its implications, disappeared. The tension that gripped his chest eased a bit, and Ian took a deep breath.
    We still have to go, a part of him, speaking through the reflection, said.
    Ian nodded, but didn’t move. He heard his mother’s bedroom door shut; soon she’d be in the shower. Immediately he began to run through a list of excuses he could use when he would be inevitably questioned about his absence. He blinked hard and shook his head; however his reflection’s expression remained stoic.
    It’s now or never. The facsimile didn’t leave him anytime to question his sanity. It’s up to you.
    Ian rose and moved into the living room. He stood until he heard the water start to run and its sharp resulting splashes. The tension returned to his chest. He held his breath as he approached the door and placed a hand on the shining knob.
    He let out the breath and turned his wrist. The door opened a crack, allowing a slice of yellow to enter the house. When he stepped out, his senses became enveloped by the bright light, which was similar to the burning sky in his nightmare. Ian let the door close quietly.
    He stood outside for a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the sudden change of light. Unlike the homes, which used florescent light bulbs, the city’s illumination came from a full spectrum light source that mimicked the sun. Its warmth felt soulless and sterile like the bright green, neatly trimmed trees that were unnaturally symmetrical in shape. Perfect rectangles of grass flanked the sidewalk overflowing with people.
    Most walked alone but Ian could see some walked in groups of two or three. The bright greens and blues overloaded his senses almost to the point of fainting. He took a step back and grasped the door knob for support; he turned it but it wouldn’t budge. He searched his