{{Takes place immediately after this.}}

Journal,

Today is not a “Dear” sort of day, and that really sucks. Well, any day that’s not a “Dear” day must suck, but it especially sucks today because today should be a “Dear” day. When I woke up this morning the skies were blue, the birds were singing, and my brothers were mercifully silent. Delicious smells were coming from the kitchens, one of which was the smell of baking cake. That cake is part of the reason why it really sucked that today was not a “Dear” day; today was my 17th birthday.

Normally I’m quite excited about my birthday. It’s one of the few days of the year when I get more attention then my little brothers, and when I can get away with reprimanding them for being pests. Those things failed to excite me today. When I woke up I was panting and sweating, having had a nightmare. I was also strangely tired and faintly sore, as if I had slept too much or not enough. I had strongly wanted to go back to sleep and simply wake up tomorrow, but I knew that wouldn’t happen, so I made myself get up.

When I finally got out of my bed I noticed that I had left a pile of dirty clothes at the foot of my bed; odd, but not unheard of. I grabbed them and a change of fresh clothes and went to the bathroom to shower. I was getting ready to throw my dirty clothes in the hamper when I realized that there was stuff in the pants’ pockets. Now this was definitely odd as I always remembered to take the stuff out of my pockets, but in this instance I couldn’t even remember what I had put in the pockets!

What I’m going to write next will sound crazy. In fact, to protect against nosy siblings, I think I’ll have to edit my story a bit. I found a cell phone and a pen in the pockets. That doesn’t seem too odd, right? Well, the cell phone isn’t my cell phone, or at least it wasn’t originally. I suppose you could say someone gave it to me; same with the strange pen. To make things odder, the cell phone and pen were given to me by a very… unusual stranger.

I’ve blown out my candles, eaten my cake, and opened my presents. My parents could tell something was wrong, but I told them I was just feeling a bit under the weather. I got back to my room and my birthday wish couldn’t have come true because the cell phone and pen were still there.

… I thought it was a dream. I still do. Well, no, no I don’t, because what about the pen and phone? Maybe I’m crazy, or maybe I’ve started sleepwalking. Something has to be going on because the facts I have just don’t make sense. Or maybe they do and I just don’t know what it means, or don’t want to deal with it.

It feels like they’re connected. I had two nightmares last night – though, one might not have been a nightmare – and the stranger was in both of them. The stuff the stranger gave me in the not-a-nightmare is here, sitting innocently on my desk. I can’t still be dreaming because I pinched myself and it hurt, so the stuff is real. The implications are kinda serious. I didn’t steal them, they really were given to me, but what happened after they were given to me…

I’m stopping there and going to bed. I need sleep, lots and lots of sleep, preferably without nightmares. Maybe that’s what I should’ve wished for.