My eyes flutter open and I gasp. I had another Dream last night. It was terrible; worse than most. As soon as I regain my breath, I get up and drag myself to my laptop, which I left open last night. I check that the bedroom door is closed before I open a series of folders on my computer, finally finding the document I need.

I open "Dreams-Author-Misc." and begin to write down my Dream from the previous night. I get a headache just trying to recall all that happened. In this one, my life passed before my eyes. Except it wasn't my life. Alternate versions of my life flew through my subconscious all night. I shudder.

In one version, I awoke in the middle of town with no memories except the knowledge of the Author and my own name. The weird thing was that everyone said they knew me, but I had this feeling that I shouldn't trust them. That I shouldn't believe the people that claimed to be my parents. I knew almost nothing except that I needed to get to the bottom of what was happening to me.

In another, I was in the middle of town when we got attacked by aliens. That one ended as soon as the invasion started. I should note that...

A lot of the others started off with my normal life. Then, weird stuff would start happening. People would disappear or start behaving erratically. I'd gain strange powers or abilities. Things like that.

But there was one Dream that was different. One Dream that I can vaguely remembering waking me up in a cold sweat before I drifted back off to the other Dreams. One Dream that held wisps of smoke and darkness and shadow. I'm almost afraid to write anything down.
Wait, what I was I thinking about? I glance at my laptop screen. Right, the Dreams from last night.

It's getting difficult to remember what's reality because of the Dream. I've got to sort this out. Let's see... I'm sixteen; no, fifteen. Was it eighteen..? Age is irrelevant. My name is Protagonist. People call me Tag. I've got brown hair. Blond hair? I look in the reflection in the computer screen closely. Dirty blond. Okay. I have braces; no, I had braces. Got them off last year. I'm taller than my mother, shorter than my father. I live in Stroy, because the Author is too lame to come up with a real name for my town. I go to Novella High. Sophomore. Junior? Grade doesn't matter.

A spike of pain shoots through my skull like an icy blade slicing my nerves. I clasp my palms to my temples. I-I've got to keep reminding myself. My name is Protagonist. I'm controlled by the Author. My name is Tag. My name is Tag. My- my name is T-Tag. My name is... Tag? My name is...

What was my name again?
                                                                                        |_/>-<\_|

Lucky for me, today is a Saturday. That means I can just relax at home and let my mind recupera-

"Tag," my mother calls up to my room, "are you still planning on meeting your friends later?"

Darn it. "Uh, yes, ma'am," I reply. Well, they say that friendship is magic, so maybe it can be medicine as well. I wince as a dull throb crawls through my head. I have my memory back, but the headache never left. My hands are still shaking from the fear of what happened. I've had bad Dreams, but that was a new level of scary. I shudder once again.

A lot of people have dreams, but none of them come close to mine. My Dreams bring me to other worlds; sometimes it feels almost like reading a book. Except reading books usually doesn't suck as much as this. Huh. I guess the Author thinks my life won't be interesting enough even with the fact that I know there's an Author, so he gives me Dreams. Or maybe that's why he chose me in the first place. I don't know.

An hour later, I'm walking down the sidewalk, having left my house for the park. I say sidewalk; I walk down the side of the ditch because Stroy is too small to have sidewalks all over town. I cross a tiny bridge and enter the park, seeing my friends sprawled across the playground. Tish is even laying on top of the covered slide. I sigh loudly, then melodramatically yell to the sky, "Why did I get all the weird ones?" They all look over and grin.

"Come on, you know your life would be boring without us." Tish smirks and jumps off the slide to join the group of friends who were wandering towards me. "Took ya long enough to get here, Story Boy."

Well, she really isn't wrong. If it wasn't for these people, my life would be boring. Maybe that's why the Author put these people in this world. I guess that's one thing to thank him for.

"I, uh, had a bad dream. Remind me: what were we gonna do today?" I question once we've all gotten together.

Chloe skeptically raises an eyebrow while Max loudly gasps, "Aw, Tag! And you're usually the one that remembers everything."

"Like I said, a really bad dream." Please don't question it, please don't question it.

"We're here to help Molly record a skit for that Civics assignment," Tish draws the attention away from me. I silently thank her a thousand times over.

"That weird commercial thing?"

"Of course, meus amicus!" Max says excitedly. I wish I could blame how hyper he is on sugar or caffeine, because then we could just take away the cause, but Max is ADHD. He's always happy, and always trying to cheer others up with that crooked smile of his. I think he gave up on trying to tame his bright blonde hair long ago, because it's everywhere; with all of his excited movement, it wouldn't stay down long anyways.

"Dude, it's like, 11:30 in the morning. How in all of existence can you possibly be this cheerful?"

"Because, Chloe, friendship is freaking magic! Sometimes you just gotta Chlo with the flow. Or-or try not to be an Average Chlo. You need to take whatever life Chlo's at yo- Yeah, I got nothing."

After a round of facepalms on the part of Tish, Chloe, and myself, I look up and suggest, "How about we just start working on the skit, okay, Max?"

"LEZ DO DIS!" And he runs off in the exact opposite direction of where we're working.

Maybe just one more facepalm...