"Oh cripes they've summoned a beast. Feline variety."

"Feline?"

"Fur, whiskers. Teeth."

"Oh yeah. Claws and long arms."

"That's the one. I don't think it can get to us here. The hole is too small."

"Maybe we should move the equipment back a little?"

"Nah. Their arms aren't THAT long."

"Whatever you say! You're the field expert."

"The only danger would be if it somehow came around from the back end. But it would have to navigate through the crawlspaces..."

"Wait! What's that noise?"

"MEEOOOOWL?!!!"

".... Oh cripes."

I was able to tunnel my way through my dreams and land at Psyhigh without any actual “training.” I’m a natural, they say. Technically I’m a Type III Intuitive Oneironaut, which basically means I’m good at following my dreams.

It’s also what caught the attention of the aliens.

But Dream Spelunking isn’t just about stumbling around in your dreams for fun. That’s what I’ve been doing up till now. If you want to actually connect with the Superstructure you need proper (and rigorous) academic instruction. And ritual initiation.

Which is why tonight I’m going to be doing the Sixth Cluster of the Rites of Morpheus (also known as the Kitten Cluster) before bed. It involves twisting your body through a bunch of near impossible yoga moves while saying:

"Here, kitty kitty kitty
Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Here, kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty
Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty"

Must be a pretty big cat.

"There's another one. I think it's the same one as before."

"How can you tell?"

"The shape of its [untranslatable]. Each one is unique."

"We should keep a catalog."

"Well, duh. Don't you think we do? There's one around here somewhere. Nobody keeps it updated."

"What's it doing now?"

"It's in an antechamber of Sector VII. It's found some its own accretions."

"Ah! So it's been there before!"

"They rarely stray too far from their territory. They cross their own tracks a lot."

"So it's not posing a danger?"

"Nah. Business as usual."

"Keep an eye on it."

"Always do!"

I wake up with scratches in odd places. Places I can’t even reach.

Being able to remember your dreams isn’t has helpful for Dream Spelunking as you might think. You’ve got to lighten your load if you want to go really deep. If you pack it in, pack it out. And anything you pick up down there has a way of slowing you down. So it’s better to travel light.

I’ve got my topside gear down to a bare minimum. Some stuff you can leave down there and pick up when you need it (though it’s never in the place you left it). At this point I’m sure I’ve left stuff strewn around I don’t even remember. The aliens have a way of messing with your mind.

"Sal, we've got another one caught in the wires."

"How do they do that?"

"I know, right? It looks like it just showed up there. Look at it squirming."

"What's it doing?"

"It's starting to cut its way out."

"Headed towards anything interesting?"

"Not if it keeps heading that way."

"Let's just keep an eye on it."

"Roger."

"Quit calling me that. You know my name is Sal."

My mom is a moonlighter, and my dad is a rat catcher. So they both have odd hours, and when I lived at home I hardly saw either of them. They were up before I was and got home after I went to bed.

With nobody to really care for me, it got easy to skip going to school. I'd hang around in the house all day, sitting in different rooms, watching how the sunlight lit them up at different times of day.

But I especially loved sleeping, and would go to bed early and sleep in late.

Eventually I learned to burrow between my dreams, tunneling from one to another, skipping the days entirely and moving through time through my dreams alone.

That's how I found Psychic High School.

And that's how the aliens found me.

I go to bed with my gear beside me on the nightstand. Wire cutters, bottle of water, vitamin A soft gels, UHF goggles, and a string tied around my finger. All prepped for another night in the hole.

Other students in Dream Spelunking 201 have trouble falling asleep. They usually drop out mid term, or finish the class for half credit in a support role. Me, I can’t wait to get back in bed. There aren’t enough hours in the day (or night) to get all the sleep I’d like. I’m a natural.

I set the alarm on my phone. Don’t want to go *too* deep.

Then I start counting back from 100... 99... 98...

Every night I am abducted by aliens.