“It’s your Saturn Return!” answered Somnus.

  Proto blinked twice. He tilted his head.

  “First’s name, you wear a Saturn emblem, and you don’t even know your own Saturn Return?” exclaimed the Lord of Dreams. “Ah, but humans these days are astrologically challenged, aren’t they? Your Saturn Return, Proto, is when the planet Saturn returns exactly to the spot in the sky where it was located when you were born. It happens once every 29.5 years or so.”

  “Every 29.5 years?” Proto pondered the implications of this. “But I was 27 when I got here. It’s been barely months since then. Certainly not two years. So how could my Saturn Return be today? I’m not 29.5.”

  “Oh?” Again, Somnus’ eyes gleamed with zeal. “Are you so sure about that?”

  Proto stared at him. He suddenly felt he should be remembering something.

  Indeed, in the dark depths of his recollection, some shadowy scene was playing out. But he couldn’t quite make out what was happening.

  “Here, let me shed some light on things.” The Lord of Dreams smiled sympathetically. “It’s time you knew.”

  Uncertain, Proto opened his mouth to ask what Somnus meant.

  But those words were washed away when, abruptly, memory flooded him. It was as real and vivid as a dream. He lived it once again. He remembered! He—

  —was breathing heavily but felt good. He’d almost skipped running today. But, as usual, he was glad he’d pushed through it.

  The traffic, though, was beginning to annoy him. He turned down Cherry Blossom Lane to get away from it, absently noting a yard sale sign on a telephone pole. Soon, car sounds had faded, and he was immersed in familiar sights—houses and yards he’d come to know intimately in childhood, in that exquisitely detailed way that children memorize their early surroundings.

  Yes, this was better. Peaceful, pastoral even. His tracksuit let through just enough of the brisk breeze to stay cool. And that breeze often bore with it pink petals, some of the first to fall from the many cherry blossom trees reaching over the road.

  Ah, there was Yemos’ house. Hadn’t seen that guy in a while. He’d have to message him, maybe set something up.

  More car noises behind him, loud ones. Maybe a motorcycle, or something without a muffler. He sighed and pushed his earbuds in deeper.

  He’d been good about running lately. Maybe he’d medal at that race next week. He’d gotten bronze last time. It wasn’t a Nobel Prize. But at least then he wouldn’t be a total loser, right? Late twenties, no girlfriend, dull desk job, tiny house, lots of video games—and a race medal.

  The future looked bright!

  His lips quirked into a self-deprecating smile. Hmph. Maybe he’d finally ask out that barista at Starbucks. “Hi there. Yes, this medal’s bronze. Do you like tiramisu?”

  Or maybe not. He didn’t want to be that dude. And getting a “no” would suck doubly since he’d have to find a new coffee place.

  And yet the way she always ran her hand through her hair and smiled when they spoke . . . ! Was it just—?

  —immense impact. His mind failed utterly to wrap itself around what his body felt. But he did perceive that he was tumbling through the air, watching a whirling collage of pink and green and grey, and something red speeding away.

  Motion abruptly stopped. Brightness battered at his eyes. Was that the sun? Or . . . ? He tried to discern if his eyelids were closed, and he couldn’t tell. So bright.

  Time passed. Then: “Proto! Proto!” A familiar voice. The light dimmed. Someone was leaning over him. He couldn’t see the face, but he was close to recalling that voice. He struggled to remember.

  The voice stopped saying his name after a moment. There was a pause. Then it was saying something about a “red beret,” “dark red car,” “didn’t get the plate,” something something. Proto wasn’t really listening to the words. Just trying to figure out that voice.

  And then it dawned on him: Yemos! Of course it was his voice. This was Cherry Blossom Lane, after all.

  And with that delirious insight, Proto’s awareness sank from mirky indistinction into a black void dotted with far off lights.

  There, he tarried for some indefinite amount of time—somewhere between hours and an eternity, he supposed—before vague voices started to intrude upon the starry silence.

  He struggled to hear them, but only snippets came through, like fish flitting briefly above the sea’s dark waves: “ . . . body’s failing . . . two options . . . painless way to go . . . could try . . . still experimental . . . induce a coma . . . indefinite time . . . need to decide . . . ”

  Time passed. Things were said and done.

  And all Proto knew was that, suddenly, he was cold. So very cold. How could he possibly be so cold . . . ?

  “And . . . I think that’s enough to give you the gist!”

  Somnus’ voice blew through the memory like a gust through a house of cards. In a blink, the memory collapsed back into the present.

  Disoriented, Proto shook his head and scanned his surroundings blearily. The lounge. Everyone in the room, staring at him. Astrid, Lilac and Dahlia, all smiling sadly with sympathetic concern.

  “To put it simply,” Somnus said, “you suffered an accident. You were placed into a coma. You spent a long time dreaming. During that time, your Spirit found its way here. As for the other details, you’ll learn about them if you go back up there.”

  “ . . . who else knew all this?” asked Proto.

  The Lord of Dreams winced a smile. “Everyone, Proto. Don’t hold it against them, though. I forbade them to tell you. I’ll take the blame for that.”

  “Of course,” he went on, “someone tried to spill the beans early. She didn’t openly defy me. Instead, she thought it’d be clever to shadowcast Yemos while you were there, so she could ‘accidentally’ tell you about your accident and how Yemos found you. And—to top it all off—she would blame poor, innocent Lady Luck for this so-called lucky coincidence!” He gave Dahlia a pointed look. “Well, Miss Shadowseer, it’s a good thing Yemos’ shadowcasting stayed vague about this subject, or I might be a bit peeved!”

  “I tried.” Dahlia smiled apologetically to Proto, then turned to Somnus. “And it’s a good thing I did too, or else we might never have saved the world! Think what we learned from Yemos.”

  “Beside the point!” boomed the Lord of Dreams, waving a hand dismissively.

  Meanwhile, Proto’s head was whirling. He struggled to make sense of what he was hearing and work out its implications. But there were so many new facts. “Wait. You said I’d learn the other details ‘if I go back up there.’ ‘If’ I wake up. ‘If’ I go back to the breathing world, as you call it. So . . . does that mean I can choose to stay here?”

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  “That’s not up to you, I’m afraid!” Somnus shrugged commiseratively. “No living humans allowed here. Rules are rules. I don’t make them, I just follow them.”

  “ . . . okay,” sighed Proto. “So, I guess it’s time for farewells, huh.”

  “Well, yes. Unless something very unusual happens!” added the Lord of Dreams.

  Proto raised his brow at Somnus and regarded him levelly.

  “Alright, alright!” waved Somnus. “Yes, there’s a way you can stay. We wouldn’t have bothered with this whole mentorship and evaluation rigmarole, if we’d known for certain you’d be leaving today.”

  “And what would happen if I stayed?” asked Proto.

  “Well, first,” said Somnus, “you’d get that promotion. A full visitor! Just tap those slidey white doors, and they’d slide right open! And you could visit dreams on your own! Though I find having company is nice. Then, in 29.5 years—your next Saturn Return—if you’d decided you’d have enough and wanted to leave, you could leave! Or not. Up to you.”

  “So, if I don’t go back today,” Proto replied slowly, “I’ll be stuck here another 29.5 years? So I’ll be an old man when I eventually do wake up?”

  “Old man? At 59? Why, at 59, life has just begun!” retorted Somnus. “But no, you needn’t worry about that. No matter when you return to the breathing world, you’ll be hardly a day older than when you came here.”

  “Wait, I don’t get it.” Proto’s brow furrowed. “Time passes for everyone up there, but not for me? Even though my body’s alive up there? How does that work?”

  Somnus gave an exasperated sigh. “Of all the weird and wonderful things that’ve happened here, that’s the one you finally demand me to explain? Look, I promise: If you go back up there, you’ll understand very quickly why you’re no older.”

  “I should mention, though,” he went on, “everyone else up there would be getting older. So, if you wait here for 29.5 years, they’ll be rather greyer and wrinklier.”

  “Also, you probably realize this, but I’ll say it anyway,” continued Somnus. “Whenever you do leave here, whether it’s today or 29.5 years from now or whatever, it’s farewell to all this. Forever, most likely. Of course, we’ll come visit you every now and again, as we visit everyone. In dreams. But it will be brief and fleeting, as most dreams are.”

  “Fair enough,” Proto managed. He tried to wrap his mind around the enormity of the choice that lay before him. But he didn’t feel up to the task quite yet. “So . . . if I stay here, I can live forever?”

  “Oh, let’s not get carried away,” laughed Somnus. “We’re all bound for the Mists eventually. At least, those of you who aren’t already there.” He held up a hand and smiled wistfully at it. It wisped away to white mist, then re-solidified. “But I think it’s safe to say you could spend a very, very long time here. Maybe even as long as Astrid!” He waved at the silvery-blue haired woman.

  “Of course, if you eventually got bored of life here and wanted to awaken, it’d be a little tough, waking into an unfamiliar future. But at least you could take a friend with you,” mused Somnus. “That is, if you could stay here at all. As I said, that’d require some very unusual circumstances.”

  “ . . . wait, what?” said Proto. “Take a friend? What are you talking about?”

  The Lord of Dreams turned to Astrid, Lilac and Dahlia. “Which one of you three would like to explain?”

  They stared at him in seeming shock.

  “Somnus . . . ” said Lilac.

  “I know, I know I ordered you not to share this earlier!” he replied. “Well, now you have your chance! Speak up!”

  “Somnus . . . what are you doing?” asked Dahlia.

  “Why, I’m the Lord of Dreams! I daresay, whatever I’d like to do!” he retorted, turning back toward Proto. “Anyhow, since there are no takers, I’ll explain. I’ll be the mentor, for once!”

  “To begin with, let’s start with who we are. I’m Somnus. You’re Proto. And everyone else here”—he spread his arms across the room—“is a Lost Spirit.”

  “Generally,” he explained, “when new human life is being made up there, Spirit rushes into the body. That Spirit lives out some span of years on Earth, short or long, and then goes to the Mists. Occasionally, however, the process goes awry and some Spirit never has any body to go to.”

  “Many of those Lost Spirits end up here. You could think of my Palace as a sort of orphanage for Lost Spirits that don’t find a home in a human body. Astrid, Lilac, Dahlia and the rest—even Paunch, down in the kitchen!—all Lost Spirits.”

  “Remember how Lilac dipped her whole arm into the River Lethe and was fine? Didn’t lose any memories of life?” recounted Somnus. “Of course she didn’t! She had no memories of life to lose!”

  “Now, mind you, I said my palace is like an orphanage. Not a final resting place!” said the Lord of Dreams. “I am allotted a limited number of living bodies to bestow on Lost Spirits. Alas, I have nowhere near enough to go around. So I’ve devised a few ways to divvy them up fairly. Breath Tokens and so forth.”

  “But one hard rule I’ve always followed—as these three ladies all know well—is that I never break up true love,” said Somnus. “If you were to tell me truthfully that someone here were your true love, and she felt the same way, I’d allot one of those living bodies to her. Should she desire it. In other words, I wouldn’t separate you two by making only you leave.”

  “You can thank my mother for that,” he shrugged. “She made the rule and the one exception—no living humans down here, unless true love requires it. Hopeless romantic, the Queen of Heaven! But then, deep down, perhaps I am too.”

  “There’s just one problem,” he continued. “I’m fresh out of bodies right now. Fully committed, no takebacks. So no one’s leaving with you today, true love or not! But you could leave together in 29.5 years on your next Saturn Return. Or a later one. Much later, if you two wanted. I’m not about to use up one of my few bodies on someone who doesn’t want it yet!”

  The implications of Somnus’ words seeped through Proto like an anaesthetic shot—first warmth, then numbness. “You mean, during all those talks I had with the others here”—he looked at Dahlia, Lilac and Astrid—“all those times we had together, each of them knew that if I picked her as my ‘true love,’ you’d give her a shot at living a real life up there?”

  “In a word,” replied Somnus, “yes. But don’t be too hard on them! As I said, I made them promise not to tell you. Until now.”

  Dahlia reached for Proto, pain in her eyes. “Proto, it’s not—!”

  She abruptly went silent and motionless. Beside her, Lilac looked shocked and dumbstricken—and similarly motionless. Astrid was facing him with wide and earnest eyes, her mouth half-opened—and motionless.

  Indeed, the whole room had frozen in place, except for Proto and the Lord of Dreams.

  “I’m sorry,” smiled Somnus at Dahlia, “but I’ll have to insist that no one interrupt this part. I made a bet a long time ago, and I’m not about to have it spoiled! Not after all this! But don’t worry, Proto, they can still hear us talking. They’ll hear exactly what you have to say. We all will!”

  “What I have to say?” Proto’s head was swimming. Mists had started rising from the floor, and he found himself remembering more by the moment—things he’d forgotten he’d forgotten, and people too. What . . . ?

  “Indeed! Isn’t it clear what I’m asking you?” The Lord of Dreams seemed to grow before Proto—nay, greaten. His wry facade was flushed with glory, and his robed frame was exalted into something more-than-manlike. Eminence welled about him. “Have you not suspected, for quite some time now, that this choice would lie before you? Have you not brooded on this choice with almost every waking moment in this place of dreams? Have you not dreamt about this choice?”

  “I . . . ” Proto struggled to sort his feelings into coherent words. But the moment of the moment was swelling within him, and it swept coherent thoughts away.

  Unready to answer Somnus’ question, Proto asked a different one. “But what about the pandaemonium up there in the breathing world? The fire, the ruin. How does that play into all this? How can I help fix it?”

  “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it!” answered the Lord of Dreams. “You can stay here and keep doing your part here, together with us, whom you’ve come to know. One dream at a time! Or you can return whence you came, and make the breathing world a fairer place from within its bounds.”

  “But no more questions now!” he boomed. “Now is your moment, Proto. The time is come, ready or not! Certain choices, certain possibilities, lie open before you. We all can think of a few. Perhaps you’ve thought of more. Perhaps you’ve opened more possibilities for yourself! Or perhaps not. In any event, you choose among them now.”

  Recoiling from the zeal in Somnus’ gaze, Proto’s eyes strayed to Astrid, Lilac and Dahlia—those three with whom he’d had such times here at Somnus’ Palace, here in the realm of dreams. Even now, he smiled as far off memories winged through his recall, like silhouetted birds against the skyline.

  And yet a new weight hung upon his smile, making it wistful, making it sad. Was each of them just using him as a way out of here? A way of getting a real body and a real life? Things he’d already had up there and taken for granted?

  When Proto had arrived here, he’d thought he was dreaming, and he’d deliberately lived his life here like a dream. It’d made him happier. He’d come to suspect that, if he’d only lived life that way up there in the breathing world—like a dream—he would’ve loved it as much as he loved life here.

  Was that the lesson of all this? That what he really loved was life itself, lived properly? Or . . . ?

  “You can keep what you love, if you give up everything else.” The quote echoed through his mind from somewhere unremembered. Who had told him that? And why did it feel so important?

  “So, Proto!” The Lord of Dreams faced him as a tidal wave faces the shore. “What will it be? Will you be waking up today? Or have you found your true love here?”

  Even as Proto beheld this frozen world, the mists of memory swirled through him. All that he’d seen and done and felt, here at Somnus’ Palace, rushed through him warmly and fleetingly—like smoke rising from a fire, mingling and consuming life that’d come and passed. Or perhaps like springtime clouds, more laden by the moment and ready to warmly rain new life into being.

  Out of those swirling memories, something new started forming. Soon, he discerned it clearly.

  Yes. He knew now.

  Seeing the gleaming zeal of Somnus’ gaze upon him, he met it squarely. And Proto gave his answer.