Chapter 3
The Dreamcap was a burning itch around his skull as the dull whiteness of his cubicle materialized back into existence. Wayne had to fight the impulse to rip it off; instead, he lifted it gently off his head and placed it on the couch beside him as he sat up following his isometrics. Sometimes I wonder how I can stand that thing, he thought, knowing at the same time he’d hate living without it. As a Dreamer, he was as addicted to that Dreamcap—emotionally, if not physically—as any junkie was to his heroin. There was a special feeling that all Dreamers knew. Dreaming was a part of them; that’s why they became Dreamers in the first place.
His stomach was rumbling, too, telling him how hungry he was. He’d eaten before starting his Dream, but not heavily; it distracted him from his
