A/N: Amethyst G here, Hey and thanks for giving my story a chance. I'm writing this story solely for my own pleasure and entertainment, but if others out there find my writing pleasurable and entertaining, then it will warm the cockles of my heart to know so :P I can't promise you this story will be completed, but I plan for it to be a long ride.

Without further ado, I give you Dreamers.


My eyes popped open and I was thrust back into reality with the irritating abruptness that deep dreamers experiences upon waking.

Okay, I must admit that that was a burst of peculiarly fine poetry from my part. But it's true. Everyone's felt it before (unless, you know, you can't sleep or something. If there are any of you guys out there, I'm deeply sorry for you. But for the rest, you can empathize with me).

I've dreamed every night as far back as I remember. And almost every time, I would remember one dream crisply and clearly, almost more vividly than I remembered the day before. That's probably because my dreams are way more interesting than my average day. I must admit, my reality is pretty boring. At least, I think it is. Maybe I just have a depressed mindset. In any case, it seems a lot of people with my type of life find it perfectly satisfying and full. Or maybe I have an imagination better than anyone else's, because, compared to me dreams, my life felt like a rip off deal.

I blinked a few more times and forced myself to focus on the little digital alarm clock sitting on my nightstand. 6:59 AM, it read. Always on the dot, I snatched it hastily and disabled the alarm for the day before it could go off, effectively waking up my little sister and her spoiled dog sleeping in the room adjoining mine. I really didn't know why I still set the stupid thing, since, like my dreams, I never remember waking up late. My sub consciousness seemed to know exactly when to wake me up out of my dreams. But I was paranoid and probably had obsessive compulsive disorder, so there it is. I set my alarm clock every day and I always wake up before it.

After this familiar first-thing-every-morning routine was performed, my mind un-muddled itself, and by the time I pulled my diary out of my nightstand drawer and opened it to a fresh page, last night's dream was bursting in my head, demanding to be spilled out onto the paper. I scratched ineligibly (to anyone except me –my writing was as good as a secret code) with a pen for fifteen minutes before I had it all down.

8 A.M found me in room 309 at Kingsmill High, aka Hell. No, I flatter myself. I expect Hell is more interesting than Kingsmill.

"Fay Cameron," said Mr. Maxwell in his stern, monotonous voice. Ruby, my best friend, elbowed my sharply. Ohhh right

"Here." I mumbled, lifting my hand briefly above my head in reluctant acknowledgment of the fact that I was, indeed, here, and not with the incredibly hot stranger in my dream last night. I took revivifying swig of water, and choked.

The incredibly hot got stranger in my dream last night walked into the room and handed something to Mr. Maxwell. I spit my water out. Fortunately, no one had any papers on the desks. All heads swiveled my way. After assuring Mr. Maxwell that I was fine, I squeezed my eyes shut.

"No way", I thought. "I am the epitome of perfect; this didn't just happen to you." Somewhat wildly, I thought that I should be thinking of how I'd just imagined…

Willy Callahan walking into the room.

"Welcome to Kingsmill Mr. Callahan. Please have a seat," Mr. Maxwell said. I should have by all rights fainted. But I didn't. Mr. Callahan shot me a weird look on his way back to an empty seat in the back of the room. I turned beet red.

"Do you know him?" Ruby hissed in my ear, gaping back at the new boy over her shoulder. "He's, like, staring at you."

"What?" I replied, completely dumbfounded. "No, I don't know him. I –I've never seen him before." I finished lamely, my face still flushed.

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Don't ever lie, you're terrible at it," she advised me.

"Is he still looking at me?" I asked instead. Possibly, I was hallucinating, but in that case why would he be looking at me? Surely it wasn't acceptable behavior to stare at a stranger just because he or she had coughed up water the moment they chanced to be within seeing distance of each other.

"Yup," Ruby affirmed, making no effort to hide the fact that she was spying on him. "How do you know him? I've never seen him before."

"I'm telling you I don't –" I began, but was interrupted by a cold look from the teacher. Glancing sideways in Ruby's direction, I shrugged helplessly at her suspicious expression.

A/N: So, here it is. I know this isn't a very long section, but it will have to do for now. I have much of the next upload typed already, so the next should be within today or tomorrow.

Oh, and have a Happy Halloween :)

-Amethyst G.