I landed, hard, on soft ground. Instinctually, I stood up and dusted myself off, even though … do dreams have dust? As I took in my new surroundings, I noticed that I was in a similarly infinite space as before, but not the bottomless black pit where there are so many things to run from. This was neutral, with light coming in from all sides, bright but not blinding. Like a blank canvas. I stayed there, able to move but walking nowhere, for what felt like hours and minutes. I remember having agency, feeling lucid, but I couldn’t do anything, not even make myself fly like the lucid dreaming forums I’ve been reading say you can.

Eventually, I woke up. Totally unremarkable and utterly baffling.

Emily agreed.

“That is so strange,” she said over her bibimbap, before biting into a perfect matchstick carrot. I still don’t really understand what compelled me to tell her about my dream of all things, the universally agreed upon subject that no one ever wants to hear about, but I’ll chalk it up to nerves. Thankfully, she seemed to be interested in my description of the blank canvas or, at least, was interested enough in me to pretend.

“I wish I could lucid dream,” she said, her mouth quirking. Anytime I’ve seen that word in that context—a “mouth quirking”—I never understood what it meant. It always seemed like one of those made-up internet phrases to me. But over an hour spent eating Korean food, I began to understand. Whenever Emily finds something amusing, which it seems she often does, the corner of her mouth lifts and twists, like she’s got a secret. On anyone else—anyone with a sharper voice or colder demeanor—I think I would feel made fun of, left out. On her … it was mesmerizing, like she was bringing me in on the joke.

“I had never done it before until a few weeks ago,” I said. “So there’s still hope for you.” The quirk of her mouth bloomed into a full smile and my heart melted.

The whole dinner had been like that. Emily was vibrant and charming and easy with her smiles while I felt stiff and nervous. But every few minutes I would say something that would make her eyes light up, making my stomach swoop in turn.

“I know exactly what I would do,” she said, all her teeth showing, perfect in their slight crookedness.

“What’s that?” I leaned forward, putting my elbows on the table.

“Fly,” she breathed, her eyes going wide, and I giggled. I am historically not a giggler.

“That’s what all the forums say!” I laughed, too embarrassed to admit that’s also what I would do if I could.

“What forums?”

“I’ve been checking out some lucid dreaming communities on Readit, trying to figure out how to … how to control it, I guess.”

“Well, that’s the whole point, right?”