Saffiya’s appreciation of home increased in direct proportion to the temporal and geographical distance between her and it. From far away, it was warm and welcoming and exactly as she remembered it.

Up close, it was just home, and usually failed to live up to the brochure in her head.​

Today, however, it did. Which was the first sign that this was a dream. The Dream, to be precise.​

A luscious garden unfolded before Saffiya, green thriving easily under a sapphire sky. That was the second indication. Nothing ever thrived easily under the open sky of the Sinai Peninsula, where the uncomfortably warm winters were only slightly better than the intensely hot summers. Aside, perhaps, succulents. Or rocks.

​Still, this was nice. Jasmine perfumed the air. Olive trees offered shade. Leaves stirred just enough to be noticed.

Saffiya smiled. The scene reminded her of the arboretum aboard the Valkyrie, which had looked a little like this, and which itself had been an approximation of her perfect version of home.

​So, in a weird way, this was a double-home – filtered through memory, imagination, and at least two pairs of heart-shaped glasses.

She could almost see herself wandering the gardens with her mother and younger sister, picking flowers here and there, unhurried and unconcerned with anything beyond this very moment.

Saffiya heard her dream-self sigh. She hadn’t visited home in a while – and for good reason – but she couldn’t deny that she missed her family. Or, well, her parents and siblings. Not necessarily the aunts and uncles whose defining personality trait was having an opinion and plenty of unsolicited advice on everything.

“Saffiya!” came a shrill, exasperated voice behind her –  and suddenly, the peace was gone, and the garden was crowded.

“Tell your uncle what you did!” a woman in a red abaya and heavy makeup demanded.

“Uhm. What did I do?” Saffiya asked, sounding confused, though that was purely to buy herself some time. She knew exactly what this was about. She just wasn’t mentally prepared for it.

Around her, the garden wilted and vanished, but the people remained. Now, they were in some sort of carpeted room that vaguely reminded her of a living area at her grandparents’ house – or maybe some sort of religious building.

Or, apparently, an interrogation room. Fun. 

“Your mother says you’re pregnant,” someone accused, pointing a finger at her.

“I… yes.“

A man – probably an uncle – slammed his fist on the table. “And without a father present. It’s disgraceful.”

“Well, without a ‘father’, period.” Saffiya defended herself. In the worst way possible.

“That’s not how this is done! It’s unnatural. It’s-….”

And this, Saffiya thought, is exactly why I’ve not visited.

It was also why she hadn’t told either part of her family about the pregnancy yet. Because this was pretty much how she had envisioned them reacting.

Not that she believed telling them later would make it good, exactly – but… well. She hoped that placing the two infants in their arms would significantly improve the outcome. Hard to yell while holding a baby.

She just… wished they’d react better.

Until they actually did. Then it was just weird. 

“They are adorable,” her mother beamed, holding her grandchildren close to her.

“And twins at that,” her father added. Also holding two infants.

“A double-blessing!”

“We can give you your old room.”

“Grandma can watch the children, and you could find a job here.”

“Surely you will come home now.”

Saffiya sloooowly took a couple of steps back. Mostly because every single one of her relatives – or the random people her dream had cast into the roles of uncles, aunts, and cousins, of which there were far too many to keep track of – was now holding an infant.

Which, mathematically, meant Saffiya was now the mother of forty.

“You need to be surrounded by family.”

​“And friends.”

And, apparently, babies. Ugh.

​“Well,” Saffiya said, after she had regained her composure. “How about you come to the Olympic instead?”

She knew her parents hated traveling. And space. And most of all,  traveling through space. She also knew that the Olympic probably lacked the capacity to house her entire extended family.​

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” her father beamed.

Saffiya stared at him. As nice as it was, it was also wildly unrealistic. All of it.

Mostly, the forty children.

And as soon as she thought that, her mother’s scowl returned.​

Weird.
It reminded her of… what was it called? Lucid dreaming.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered what Varjon’s locals had said about the Dream.
There were residents and creators.
Residents experienced the Dream. Creators shaped it.

So perhaps this was the standard extent of experiencing a communal dream – though she somehow doubted anyone else would dream about Earth in quite this level of detail.
Or maybe she was a creator.

If this was the case, then the dream ceremony had been meant to put her at ease.
Which meant the incense, the tea, and the whole “tie a thread around a branch and think happy thoughts” had failed rather spectacularly.

​And if that was the case….

​Right.

​She should probably think about nice things.

​Nothing stressful.

​Nothing bad.

​…

And of course, that prompted her mind to wander to the worst thing she could probably think of. Slowly, the scent of home-cooked meals – which hadn’t actually been there before – twisted into a mixture of spilled coolant and rotten eggs.

​It was at that moment that she knew she had fucked up.

Think happy thoughts.

Think happy thoughts!

Saffiya squeezed her eyes shut as dream-logic did what it did best. The air grew warmer. Hotter. Scorchingly so.

She needed to think of something else.

Something pleasant.

And the one thing that came to mind was –  

“Anand!” she called out, her voice echoing through the Dream. Or at least her little corner of it. 

​“What the-…” Anand said as he dramatically appeared in a cloud of thick smoke, and then broke into a coughing fit. “Okay, not ideal.”

Saffiys opened her eyes. “Are you part of the dream,” she asked carefully, “ or are you real? Because if it’s the latter -”

She winced.

“I am so sorry.”