Faint orchestra music played in the distance. The grass Hongjoong waded through reached as high as his waist and brushed over his palms at every step. A constant wind brushed through it as if it were an ocean, creating the illusion that it moved up and down like waves.

Hongjoong wandered aimlessly. Above him stretched a cloudy sky, hiding everything but a few sparse rays of moonlight that surrounded the shrouds like gleaming fire. So far, he had walked into two spider webs that had stuck to his face like glue. He took it as a good sign that the grass under his fingertips wasn't sharp as blades. At the same time, it was worrisome.

Hongjoong was here to extinguish the sorrows of a nightmare. And so far, he had spotted nothing even remotely nightmare related. The night was already an indication that his designated guy may be afraid of the dark. Only a few nightmares happened in bright daylight, or places filled with masses of humans. Despite the odds, that's where people felt the most protected and comfortable.

When the chilly wind picked up to whip at Hongjoong's neatly styled hair and to jingle on the metal of his many piercings, the man grumbled. He pulled his leather jacket tighter around his frame.

He had dressed up, as he always did for work. Hongjoong regarded it as a necessity to feel comfortable and pretty in his skin when he invaded other people's minds like a burglar. The things he saw here exposed the very soul of a person. And in the rare cases someone detected Hongjoong's presence and viewed it as peculiar, he liked to be in top shape.

Jongho had snorted at the long speech Hongjoong had given him about the topic. San had suggested dressing up as a bush or a rock for special occasions.

Out here, on a vast field as far as Hongjoong's eye could reach, he painfully stood out. Not for the red of his mostly sheer shirt, though. Rather, his height. And that was a rare thing. Luckily, Hongjoong wasn't as small as a blade of grass.

Hongjoong shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked around. Nothing but the empty void of this dream greeted him. The music came out of nowhere and told a sad song about lost battles and long-forgotten heroes. A choir hummed a ghostly melody in the back of the French horn's main cry for clamour and help at the same time.

When he had entered this dream, Hongjoong hadn't known what to bring. Usually, he carried either weapons or other useful equipment to rid the dreamer of whatever disturbing beast haunting them. But since Hongjoong had detected no hints of the usual culprits, he had come equipped only with the standard pistole in the same shiny gold as his piercings in the holster at his hip. He would have to figure out everything else by himself.

Once more, Hongjoong swiped his eyes over the scene. When he finally detected a person in the distance, he ducked instantly. Tall grass surrounded him in a perfect hiding spot as he fixated on the man.

He stood far from him. Not much of his features was illuminated. Based on the looks of it, he wore a soft beige sweater and regular jeans. Dark hair fell onto his forehead as he lowered his head.

Idly, he stared at his hands.

With as little noise as possible, Hongjoong sneaked closer. The grass rustled around him, but he was careful to move deliberately as not to alert the man of his presence.

When he rose his head, Hongjoong faltered. The man turned his head to stare over his left shoulder at something Hongjoong couldn't see from his current spot.

At his next step in the weird strained crouch he shuffled in, Hongjoong tripped over a human hand.

Through the thick grasses, he couldn't see the person attached to it, and he didn't have to. Either a faceless nobody or a loved person of the dreamer.

With his eyes fixed on the man, Hongjoong dodged the remains as good as possible. They laid strewn around him, gaining in number the closer Hongjoong got. Their bodies piled up, stained the grass with their shiny, dark blood. Deep wounds covered their flesh and distorted grimaces were covered in their life's liquid.

When the man abruptly got attacked, Hongjoong nearly recoiled.

A person in a white dress charged at the man with speed unnatural enough that it could only be his brain's dramatised version of it. She swung a knife at him, too swift to be stopped.

With fear clouding his big eyes, the man stumbled backwards. His hands rose placatingly to defend himself against the fury.

"Don't!" His desperate voice was hoarse.

When the woman tackled him anyway, Hongjoong's steps quickened. He leapt over the corpses as quickly as possible. His eyes remained trained on the man's youthful features, the way that he gasped, and his mouth fell open at the knife that embedded itself deep into his shoulder.

When Hongjoong slithered through the near grass too loudly, the dreamer's gaze flinched towards him for a mere second. Through the meadow, he could only see movement. So Hongjoong paused for a second until the man busied himself trying to fend off his attacker.

The moment the woman lifted her hand for the next strike, Hongjoong flung himself forward. His hand packed a foot and with a rough yank, he pulled the woman down with him. The second she fell into the grass, she disappeared into thin air. Out of the dreamer's sight, she instantly vanished.

The man clutched his shoulder, panting. Pain showed on his face as he stumbled backwards. Naked horror had his movements jerky. Hongjoong watched like a hawk how he turned and fled.

He ran.

Hongjoong jumped from his spot and ran after him.

He had to see where the man would go. Where his escape route from his nightmares mapped out. Most dreamers either shook themselves awake by this point or their dream considerably changed as the primary source of their fear disappeared. However, the confusion wasn't enough to help him. Trapped in his own nightmare, he tried to get away.

He ran at normal speed, which was good. No delay slowed him down, but he also arrived nowhere. Breathing heavily, he retreated from the bodies, from the spot he had been injured in. He ran and ran, but he never ended.

For a long time that was two hours in his sleep - as Hongjoong's clock told him - the man never stopped. And when he did, he ceased so suddenly that Hongjoong nearly ran headfirst into him.

Hongjoong ducked just in time when the man peered around. His paranoia told him that something was in the grass. Creeping up on him.

Hongjoong stiffened when the man pulled a gun from his belt. It hadn't been there before.

Tense, he watched how the man pointed it around. He supported the weapon with both hands and straight arms. The stance of somebody used to handling weapons.

It slid over Hongjoong unsuspectingly.

Hongjoong detected the exact moment when the man's body locked up. When the thought settled in his mind, how it would be if his earlier attacker sprung at him once more.

The music picked up when she resurfaced. Faceless and terrifying, if smaller than the tall man with the now grit jaw. He shot at her once, twice. The bullets didn't hit her, flying right through her ghostly body.

A pained yell escaped the man when she dug the knife into his side. A regular kitchen knife.

Hongjoong pulled his own gun, aiming at her. Tense, he waited for the moment the dreamer was distracted enough for him to attack. He always had to operate hidden, never allowed to bend the man's dream right in front of his eyes.

At the moment that he stumbled back to clutch at his side, Hongjoong's bullet hit her skull. The shot threw her into the grass, making her disappear once more. Not gone forever, only until the man imagined up another one of hers.

Relief crossed the man's features when he looked up and found himself alone once more.

Then, he whipped around so suddenly that Hongjoong's nape ached just watching it. He didn't bleed, only clutching the deep stabs his mind provided him with under his tight hands. At least he had the sense to consider the gaping wounds a reason to worry.

"Wooyoung?"

The whisper was barely audible. Tense, Hongjoong lingered for what would show up.

The scene around them changed. Suddenly, the clouds pulled from the sky to expose a blushing orange sky. The rising sun bathed the two of them in its warm light. For the first time, Hongjoong actually saw the handsome features of the dreamer. His warm honey skin tone and the dark curls that fell into his forehead. Gentle eyes, and a set of white teeth as he smiled at the newcomer approaching from the left.

The music had nearly disappeared. It had got so quiet that Hongjoong barely heard it, and the piano played a hopeful and merry tune in the background.

Not every dream had its own soundtrack. But Hongjoong liked to know that this dreamer here was evidently very connected to music and experienced his emotions in tune with it.

The man that stepped up to them wore an ugly yellow sweater that didn't compliment his bright hair with how neon it was. Hongjoong watched curiously how he grinned at the dreamer brightly.

"Hwa! Why did you have to go ahead and get yourself killed?"

For a mere moment, uncertainty and dread clouded the dreamer's face. Then he started laughing, his complete face lighting up.

His friend joined in. The two of them laughed to their heart's content and slapped each other's shoulders as they wandered off.

The dream blurred and thinned out. It seemed to stretch, like runny colours on an oil painting. For a moment, everything mixed in an odd spiral of abstract art.

Hongjoong awoke.

He surged up from the ground of the cushioned chamber. It was what San liked to call their 'psycho room' for its padded walls looked eerily similar to the cell of a psychiatric ward. It was mostly for safety, so Hongjoong could roll and throw himself around in heavy battles for as long as he wanted.

The dream and his sleep slowly grew distant from him.

The dreamer hadn't awoken yet. His dream had turned good. Pleasant enough that Hongjoong wasn't needed anymore.

With a satisfied sigh, Hongjoong rolled over the ground to the door. He loved this room. It was peak comfort to him with its colourful cushions and the option to throw himself wherever he wanted. Sometimes during their breaks, San and Hongjoong played up here. Only to get nagged by Jongho because this was working equipment.

Hongjoong emerged from the room with a yawn. Sleeping inside another person's dream wasn't exactly peaceful for him. He was on edge all the time, even if he slept in theory.

The clock read 4 o'clock. The dreamer would get two more hours of sleep before his alarm clock would rip him from the sunshine and his friend.

Hongjoong checked his stats as he reached for his water bottle. The dreamer's heart rate had normalised after some turbulent margins during his nightmare. Brain activity all normal, he was about to enter his last REM stage.

Hongjoong ate a cracker as he dropped on his chair. Outside of the windows, the night still clung to the sleepy city. No bird was awake to sing yet, so Hongjoong was left to munch on his crackers alone as he scribbled his report.

Park Seonghwa had quite particular dreams. They tied to trauma and depression at first glance. Hongjoong would have to watch him longer to draw a correct medical conclusion, but he knew the signs. Normal nightmares usually comprised easy things, like daily struggles and fears. Death was a regular subject, even in healthy peoples' minds.

Not this whole setup, though. His dreams were too detailed, too constructed. He had dreamed of a whole story instead of a quick and confusing scenario. He dreamed like one who had been tormented by a lot of nightmares in his life. And who knew what he feared.

Hongjoong loudly crunched away and wiped the crumbs he left on the table off the surface and onto the ground every few minutes. Not as if that was any better place for them, but nobody looked there, and they spread out.

If he was lucky, Hongjoong wasn't on cleaning duty this week.

On the questionnaire, Hongjoong circled the word PTSD that Jongho had mentioned before and scribbled a question mark next to it. If he knew what traumata Park dealt with, it would be easier to adjust. Things were different if he had actually been stabbed before.

"5 out of 7 dreams a nightmare," Hongjoong read aloud to himself to busy his tired brain.

"Dreams seven days a week."

That was a lot of work indeed. For both Hongjoong and Park.

In the morning, Hongjoong would have to inquiry with Jongho if Park's mental health affected his work morale. But for now, he just huddled into his soft blanket and pulled up YouTube videos on the game he was into recently up. He monitored Park's sleep on the side, but no more trouble came up. And after a long night of work, Hongjoong could proudly declare that Park had got at least a few hours of good sleep.

That he could work with.