Let's normalize hiding gummies on the wall
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In which two can't keep a secret if one of them is dead. 
 - Or just dosen't know in the first place, cause Dream
 likes his secrets, like he likes his (Y/n): All to himself.  
______________________________________________

   The door revealed a plain-looking room, containing nothing but a book, and the book-stand holding it. It wasn't anything special, but the lack of furniture wasn't what shocked you. It wasn't what made you gasp for dear life and made your brows furrow as tightly as they had ever been.

   What shocked you, was the walls. Or more specifically, what was on them. The words that were written. 

   Each letter seemed to be carved deeply into the stone. They were poorly written and unnecessarily large and skewed. Most of the words stopped mid-sentence, leading you to believe that they had been written in a rush. The message came through either way, though. 

   You held your breath as you read it. 

   "Ta kin g    over.   I t's   ta k ing   o-"

   "Sta y    in   co ntr-"

   "Fig ht    i t!"

   "B u rn   it.   Br ea k   it.   K ill   i-"

   "Fo cus.   F ocu s.   Yo u   nee d   t o   re mem-"

   "(Y/ n).   Ge orge.   S apn ap.   D o   it   fo r-"

   "De stro y   it.   D es tr oy   th e   ma-"

   At least half the messages were written like this. They were faint, and you had to narrow your eyes to read it properly. You could tell they had been written a long time ago.  

   And then there were the other messages. Those who hadn't been written in a rush. Those who were new. 

   "Power. Keep your power."

   ":)

   "I'll stay in control."

   ":)"

   "Fear. Fear is key. Make them fear."

   ":)"

   "You can't escape it. You can't escape me." 

   ":)"

   "Let it happen. Give in."

   ":)"

   Messages like these were much easier to read. The handwriting was slightly different too. While, the sentences that had been written a long time ago had been written with panic. But these - these, had been written with a hand so calm, you could always feel the amount of control that was put in every single word. And yet, it was the newly written words that made you the most anxious. 

   You kept reading, not wanting to miss one single word. You tried to shake off the weird feeling and the random shivers. You didn't like being here. And yet, you had no intention to leave. 

   Sure, the walls were absolutely covered with weird sentences, but what caught your attention the most, was the one word, written across the wall right in front of you. It went all the way from the one side to the other, leaving no room for anything else. Unlike the others, this word wasn't carved into the stone - it was written with a dark-red liquid, which you really hoped to be just strawberry jam. 

"N I G H T M A R E"

   There was something weird with that specific word. The whole room was overall creepy in general, but that very word seemed to be the source of its scary vibe. That, or the book right in front of you, that just waited for you to pick it up. 

   You resisted the urge for a little bit longer, observing the room in horror, for one last time. You didn't like this. You didn't like this one bit. You didn't even know that such a bizarre room existed, and you especially didn't know what the hell it was doing in your house. Was this Dream's work? Was this a room he had found or made himself. Either way, what did it mean? 

   You ran a hand across the wall, tracing some of the letters. The one half was a cry for help, while the others sounded like literal threats. And your name was there too. Along with the names 'George' and 'Sapnap'. 

   You rose a brow while reading it again. 

   George and Sapnap...

   Some of it looked like Dream's handwriting. But you just didn't understand why he would ever in his right mind write something like this. It was terrifying. The room itself seemed to take a bit of your soul for every second you were in it.  

   "Why would you hide something like this, Dream?" You mumbled, as your gaze returned to the book in the middle of the room. Your fingers were aching to grab it, to look through every page. You stepped closer and took it in your hands. 

   "Dreamons" the title read with big, dark letters. Just by holding the book, just by reading the title, you felt something tingle in your hands. A shiver got sent down your spine, and you almost wanted to drop the book right then and there. You wanted to go back and act like none of this had ever happened. This was way too weird for your liking. 

   But your curiosity got the better of you. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to know what Dream was hiding and his reason for hiding it. You were fed up with all of his secrets. 

   There was still a voice in your head, reminding you that Dream wanted you to find this. You didn't know what the hell a Dreamon was supposed to be, but you wanted to find out. You wanted to know if it had anything to do with Dream himself, or the word 'Nightmare' written on the wall. He wouldn't have left the book here with you, if you weren't allowed to look through it. 

   And so, with a shaking hand, you flipped to the first page. Once again, you held your breath as you read.  

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT DREAMONS:
-(Including a guide of how to stop them)-

Dear reader. 
There's only one copy of this book.
If it happens to be in your custody,
you should be extremely careful. 

The dreamons could be watching. 

If you suspect this book to be/ have
been in possession of a possible
dreamon, read it, memorize it,
then burn it. The knowledge 
this book provides, can be very
 dangerous in the wrong hands.

   You felt your throat grow dry, felt your eyes get almost hypnotized. Something definitely wasn't right about this, but you couldn't put a finger on what. Just by reading the first page, a whole lot of questions popped up in your mind - the main one being what a dreamon was. 

   Was it a mob? A monster you haven't encountered yet? Maybe it was so rare that the fewest people have seen one? Or were they just so dangerous, that those who have encountered it, hasn't survived to tell the tale? 

   And if there was only one copy of this book, how did Dream get his hands on it? Why did he keep it in such a scary-looking room, such as this, filled with crazy messages on the wall? Why hadn't he told you about it?

   It was weird, but you felt as if the book was speaking directly to you, not just any reader. It was as if it begged you to get it out of here, begged you to take it and run away, not ever looking back. And that also lead you to the following question..:

   Was Dream the right or the wrong hands? Was it a good or a bad thing that it was in Dream's possession? 

   Dream had to be taking care of it, right? Hiding this supposedly important book from the wrong people to find it? Dream couldn't be categorized under the 'wrong people' himself, could he? There wasn't an evil bone in his body... Right?

   Well, there was only one way to find out. Your finger slipped under the next page, ready to flip it, when you heard a loud creak behind you. The sound alone made your whole body tense up and made your blood run cold. 

   It took some time to convince your stiff body to move. When you did, you slowly turned around, heartbeat racing along with the running sweat from your forehead. 

   Dream was standing right behind you. 

   And that little mask of his didn't look very smiley anymore. 

-

   "What are you doing here, (Y/n)?" His voice was firm and clear, and the question held an angry undertone. Like he was trying to contain himself from going off. From doing something he'd regret. 

   You looked up at the dot-portraying eyes, completely startled. You had been caught red-handed, and even though you had looked forward to him coming home, you weren't the least happy to see him. 

   "Dream! You scared me!" Forceful laughter escaped your lips as your eyes flickered around, nervously. Dream didn't appreciate your lame attempt to brighten up the mood. He kept standing in front of you, arms hanging loosely by his sides, hands clenched into a fist. The lack of lightning in the room made his mask look evil. And you'd lie if you said it didn't scare you. Why hadn't he taken it off? 

   Dream still waited for a response. You decided to give it to him, after clearing your throat several times. "You, uh, you see, I was bored and began to walk around the house, and then I found this secret hallway that I couldn't help but walk-"

   "What were you looking for?" Dream interrupted. You really didn't like his tone of voice. 

   "What?" 

   "What were you looking for? You began to search through the house, didn't you? Why?" 

   You swallowed the lump that had been building in your throat. You couldn't exactly tell him that you had been looking for a secret room. You didn't want him to think you didn't trust him. 

   "I was looking for... Snacks?"

   "You looked for snacks on a wall? Behind a candle?" 

   Okay now that he questioned it like that, you realized it might not have been the most convincing lie. You backed it up either way. "Well, knowing you, you could hide those green gummy-bears anywhere, am I right?." 

   Dream took a warning step toward you. He was towering over you, and he almost looked... Scary. But you weren't scared of him. You could never be scared of Dream. 

   After a moment of silence, you finally build up the courage to narrow your eyes and cross your arms. After all, you weren't the only one who had some explaining to do, and for him to immediately one-side question you like that, was wrong. "What is this place Dream? And why is it in our shared house if you didn't want me to find it?" 

   He stared at you for a moment. Or, well, his mask did. Then he just took the book out of your hands and placed it carefully back on the book-stand. You let him. "How much did you read?" 

   The question made your brows knit. He asked it, as if your answer would determine what he would do next. "You didn't answer my question, Dream." 

   He took one step closer. You could feel the warmth of his body, and for once, it didn't calm you. He placed his hands on your shoulders. Squeezed a little too harshly. Then repeated his question. 

   "How much did you read?"

   Your jaw clenched, holding back another gulp. "The first page," you then gritted. "Only the first page." 

    Dream's shoulders seemed to loosen up a little. So did his grip of your shoulders. His breathing became more steady. "Good. That's good." 

   "Why don't you want me to read it?" You demanded to know, taking a step back toward the book. You placed your hand on it and Dream flinched. "And why do you have this book if it's so rare? And why would you hide it in a room like this? Why does it have these weird writings on the walls?" 

   Dream thought about what to say. He knew this was bad, this was very bad. George and Sapnap already had their suspicions. Heck, Sapnap already knew. He couldn't have you know too. 

   "It's a book Sippycup, Gogy and I found a long time ago, in a forbidden library. I thought it looked interesting and decided to keep it." 

   "I'm pretty sure that's called 'stealing', Dream." 

   "Well..." Dream laughed it off. "It's not like anyone was going to miss it. It was a library in a stronghold." 

   You gasped. "A stronghold? You've been to a stronghold?" 

   He nodded. He placed his hand on the doorknob, seeming just as uncomfortable as you. "Yeah. Now come on, let's leave-" 

   "No! You haven't explained the writing on the walls. What do they mean? Did you write it?" Your stubborn self wanted to know, crossing your arms. You really hoped the answer was no. 

   "This is a private topic (Y/n), could you please not-"

   You threw your arms up in the air. "I'm practically your girlfriend, what's with you withholding all of this information for me all of a sudden?" 

   At that, Dream looked down and sighed. "Look, I sleepwalk, it's no big deal. "

   Your eyes widened. He had written this while sleeping? You didn't know how to respond to that. If it was the truth, the things his unconsciousness had written, were some pretty sketchy stuff. To the point where he needed help or serious therapy, and you would be more than happy to provide him that. You'd help him with anything. 

  He had never sleepwalked when the two of you were younger. You were certain of that. 

  So what had happened to him in these past five years? What had caused this?

   You couldn't help but soften. "This- this isn't normal, Dream. Why haven't you told me?" 

   "Well, I don't know, you never asked." Dream shrugged. Then he held up your chin and gave you a quick peck on the lips. ANd just like that, he became your focal point. None of your odd surroundings mattered as much anymore. "After I left you, my life quickly grew very dark. I started having these strange nightmares, I started sleepwalking." Dream nodded to the letters behind you, spelling 'NIGHTMARE'. 

   "But then I saw you again. We finally got reunited. I stopped having nightmares, I became happy again. I was planning to destroy this room, but I guess it never happened. I forgot it even existed."

   He began leading you out of the room. You hesitantly followed, eyes still wide. You still felt as if the book was tugging you back, crying for your help. But Dream was more important.

   This discussion wasn't over yet, though. This wasn't the last time you were in this room. Dream was hiding something from you, and even though you tried your best to respect his privacy, you were going to find out what it was. 

   You'd just have to wait until Dream left again. And in the meantime, you could ponder about why the heck the names 'Sapnap and George' sounded so familiar to you. The name 'Sapnap' tasted very bad and bitter on your tongue. Like something burnt. 

   George's name, however, tasted sweet. Almost like cinnamon. 

   "I don't want you to go back in there, (Y/n). Understand?" Dream snapped you out of your thoughts. You nodded, even though you had no intention of keeping the promise. 

   "Do you promise me you've stopped writing that weird stuff in your sleep? I could- I could help you, you know." You mumbled, intertwining your fingers with his. 

   "Ever since I got you back, I've slept like a princess." He promised. And that was enough. 

   The two of you reached the end of the hallway. You were just about to walk into your bedroom again, when you stopped in your tracks. Dream turned to look at you, and you met him with narrowed and determined eyes. You still weren't done. 

    There was still one question that bothered you. One question that needed to be asked right here and now. 

   "What's a dreamon?" 

   He went silent for a brief moment. The tension that returned in the air, could be cut with a knife. He bit his lip and hummed quietly. Then he took your hands and said what he always did whenever you asked a question that would get you a little too close to the truth. 

   "You don't have to worry about it." 

:)

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