Chapter 4: You are What You Dream Of

From the start, Elias had found one thing about his nightly dream especially absurd: its timeline. It was August 28 in the year 2624—a full six centuries beyond Elias's real-world date—yet the dream's technology and daily life looked no much different from 2022.

How could 600 years pass and humanity not change at all?! he'd often think. It was ridiculous. Elias had tried uncovering the dream's "history" by digging through libraries and online archives in the dream-world, but all he ever found were vague, inconclusive references. No meaningful details about past centuries, no real lottery numbers, no pivotal events—just a muddled patchwork that explained nothing.

"Maybe you just lack imagination," a friend once told him when he described the dream.

"Dreams are products of the mind, after all. They can't go beyond what you already know."

The friend continued:

"So your brain can't picture a genuine 600-year future—naturally, your dream version of 2624 is stuck in 2022-level tech. If you binge more sci-fi flicks, maybe the dream will evolve."

Elias had found that explanation reasonable but soon discovered that, no matter how many futuristic movies he watched, his dream stayed the same. Eventually, he just accepted it as a quirk:

"Dreams aren't supposed to be rational. If it's illogical, so be it."

***

Elias recalled that he'd run into Claw around 10 p.m. the previous night. So now, at around 9:37 p.m. in the dream, he started to maneuver himself into position to meet the same events again.

He strode over to two rambunctious little boys who were chasing each other around the plaza, both wearing the same cheap hero masks.

"Ultra flying kick!"

"Ultra elbow smash!"

They wrestled, masks tumbling to the ground unnoticed.

"Just what I need," Elias mused, scooping up one of the discarded masks and slipping it over his face. Key item acquired: the hero mask.

Phweeeet!

Phweeeet!

A pair of sharp whistles rang out before Elias even turned around. A burly arm grabbed him, dragging him forward.

"There you are, buddy! This whole plaza's crawling with little kids in hero masks—took me ages to track you down!"

Standing before him was the all-too-familiar cat mask belonging to Claw. His broad face distorted the cartoon cat art, stretching its features with heavy lines and ridges of muscle.

"C'mon! My guys are already at the bank waiting for us," Claw barked.

"Hold up, Boss." Elias managed to yank free of his grip. "Quick question!"

"Shoot."

"That cat image on your mask… what do you call it?"

"This?" Boss tapped the cartoon cat face on his mask. "That's Koko Cat. You seriously don't know Koko Cat? It's huge. My daughter used to love the stuff—she collected plushies back in the day."

"Right…" Elias nodded thoughtfully. "Didn't expect you to be so, uh, up-to-date on kids' stuff."

Claw gave a short laugh. "Like I said—my girl adored it."

"Cool. In that case…" Elias started walking toward a nearby toy shop. "I forgot something. I'll just pop in here, and we can meet back at your van."

Whap—

A heavy hand clamped onto Elias's shoulder.

"You say it's the first time we're meeting," Claw said, voice low. "So why'd you call me 'Boss' right away?"

A tense moment passed. The sweltering summer air felt suddenly still. Children's laughter echoed around them, but the two men might as well have been on an isolated stage. Boss's left hand hovered near his hip, suspicion burning through his cat mask.

Elias turned slowly, the hero mask peering back at the cat mask.

"You really want to know?" he asked.

"I do."

Elias shrugged. "Well… let's just say your face is big. Really big. Sort of unmissable, if you know what I mean."

"...Huh?"

Claw's brow knitted, smashing the cartoon cat design into a comical grimace. Elias gently brushed aside the huge hand on his shoulder.

"No offense. If you mind me calling you 'Boss,' I'll pick another nickname."

Suddenly, Claw erupted in booming laughter. "Ha! Not bad, kid. People on the street call me Claw, but hey, 'Boss' works fine! Now hurry up—get your business done. Time's money."

Elias waved him off and walked into the toy store.

***

Inside, bright shelves displayed row after row of Koko Cat merchandise—plushies, figurines, lunchboxes, everything. The brand was clearly popular, just as Claw had said.

Elias picked up a standard plush, examining every detail: proportion, limbs, even the outfit choices. He planned to memorize as much as possible so that upon waking at 00:42 a.m., he could replicate it in his real-world design for Ms. Harrington.

Am I basically… copying from my dream? he joked to himself.

Well, I'm the one dreaming it up—so it's all originally from me anyway.

He studied the plush intently.

"Hey, you!"

A gruff shout echoed across the store. Claw had stomped in, eyeing Elias irritably. "We don't have all night, pal!"

Before Elias could protest, Claw seized him by the collar and dragged him to the cashier.

Slapping down a crisp $100 bill, barked, "Keep the change!"

Then he shoved Elias—still clutching the Koko Cat plush—out the front door and into a waiting van parked right outside.

Vroom—!

Claw hit the gas, speeding off into the night. He glanced at Elias hugging the plush, scowling. "You really think you can crack vault codes with that thing, weirdo? You—"

"It's for your daughter," Elias cut in, placing the plush near the steering wheel.

That immediately silenced Claw. His previously snarling mouth fell slack.

After a few seconds, the tension in his knotted muscles unwound, and he swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the road.

They drove on in silence, turn signals clicking occasionally. Claw would glance at the plush from time to time in the rearview mirror, as though torn between anger and something else.

Elias loosened the strap of his hero mask—his scalp was beginning to itch. Outside, the traffic lights flicked amber.

"Thank you," Claw said at last, his normally gruff voice faintly hoarse. He pulled a cigarette from a battered pack, lit it, and exhaled a swirl of smoke.

"I haven't bought a Koko Cat toy in years," he murmured.

"She grew out of it?" Elias asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Claw shook his head. "She… died."

His voice hardened. "She was only six."

Elias hesitated. "I'm sorry. Was it an accident?"

"No." Claw stepped on the brake. Through the windshield, the bank loomed across the street—a familiar sight from the previous night's dream.

"She was murdered."

"Who would kill a six-year—"

"Kid," Claw interrupted, picking up his gun and clicking a fresh magazine into place. "We're here. Business first. After we score from this bank, then I'll have the money I need to settle old debts—and avenge my girl. We can talk more later, yeah?"

With that, he forced a smile, patted Elias on the shoulder, and hopped out of the van, heading toward the bank's entrance.

Elias stayed behind for a moment, gazing at Claws's broad silhouette trudging away. The little Koko Cat plush sat alone in the van's dim light, its big eyes staring blankly.

"But this bank's vault…" Elias remembered from last time that the place was full of deposit boxes and no actual money—not exactly the cash trove Claw was hoping for.