Company
Dreamer

Chapter One — Recurring

It plays out like it always does:

She runs for her life as he chases her through her childhood home. She makes her way up the stairs into her old bedroom, but before she can slam the door and lock it, he dives beyond the threshold. Before she can react, he tackles her; then drags her atop the bed she used to dream in as a girl. Without hesitation, he grabs the pillow and crushes it into her face. She writhes violently beneath; her breath taken. The scene appears as horrific as ever. Until, finally, she lets him kill her again—

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Vi Carrow lifts her eyelids, re-entering reality, after another night of dreaming. Lying in her recording bed, she sees that he is there too. Having removed her RECmask, her father, the most notorious weaver in the world, Corin Carrow, looms by her bedside. His eyes, with the baggage of sixty years, watch as she stirs back into cognizance. He has been monitoring her output and looks more than displeased. The way his bottom lip hangs crooked, slightly quivering, hints at a man on the edge. Her previous night’s dream record faithfully captures his darkness.

“Do you want me to wake you during those from now on?” He clears his throat, intimating the chance he might snap depending on the answer she gives. He pushes, “You can’t keep doing this.”

“I can’t help what I dream,” she offers back.

“Is that right?” Corin seethes, before finally adding, “You know as well as I, these can’t be sold; can’t contend. It’s going to have to stop.” He gives her a chance to interject.

She peels her sweaty, auburn hair from her forehead, pulling it behind her ears. Vi casually looks past Corin, rubbing the top of her right ear, as she often does when nervous.

“You can’t have me killing you in your dreams. That’s not going to work. We have to do something about it.” He makes his threat clear: “The show must go on.”

Vi doesn’t see the point in arguing with him anymore. She starts removing the straps that keep her fixed in the RECbed, wondering how it could have taken her so long; wondering why it is only now that she has finally had enough. Biting her lip, knowing he expects her to apologize, she stifles a grin, sustaining her tactical defiance. Because while Genevieve relishes the fact that she is failing him, that these recurring dreams can’t be used by him or the studio, she has better timing in mind. She needs to be a lost cause in his eyes; and he is only now starting to show signs of panic regarding her recurring. Vi will have her chance to claim victory against her father’s tyranny, just not yet.

So, she responds: “I am sorry. I don’t know what to tell you.”

The outside corner of both Corin’s eyelids spasm as he attempts to hide his disappointment in his daughter. With the exception of his eyes, Corin appears much younger than his days; his tightly cropped salt and pepper hair, sharp facial features, and striking physique gives the impression of a man with a vibrant spirit. But his eyes give him away for who he really is. And the absence of his left eyebrow additionally detracts from any majesty he might otherwise lay claim to, “Why would you want to do this to me? To Dream Bow?”

She snickers at his feigned concern. “Let’s remember that you are the one snuffing me each night. You can’t demand I dream a certain way, your way… a way that doesn’t dream-cast, you, as the homicidal, dream-producing, maniac we both know you are, Dad.” She wants to say more. She wants to get into how it’s all about the bottom line with him; that he has never put her first; that she knows her staying the highest grossing dreamer is more important to him than her being his daughter. She wants to tell him that a good dad, a loving dad would never put a price on his daughter’s deepest hopes, fears, and intimacies.

He refuses to buy into any of her guilt-tripping though. He knows she only calls him Dad when it is of strategic advantage. “You didn’t answer my question. We both know why I wouldn’t want you to dream this hateful content. But it is unclear why you are willing to tolerate suffering this nightmare again and again. It can’t be pleasant: me being hostile with you in there.”

“You mean, killing me in there? You mean, murdering me night after night in there? Let’s not mince words, huh. And it’s not just there; you are hostile with me out here too,” she corrects him, overcome with the spontaneous courage to say, “Just let me out.”

She pops off the bed and tries to walk to the exit. But he grabs her arm. He knows what she means, but needs to hear it from her, “Out of this room or the business?” He squeezes her arm trying to coerce a quick, honest answer.

“You know,” she rips her arm away and shoves him back. But he reaches for her again, whipping her around to look him in the eyes. “We’ve discussed this. You are obligated. It’s not just about you.”

These are the helpless moments Vi has grown accustomed to over the years. Since signing over her intellectual property to Corin and his beloved Dream Bow Studios, she hasn’t had a voice of her own. She has been piloted by her dad’s ambition for a decade; time that barely feels real to her; time that has made her relatively weak and uninspired by so much sleep. And noticing the swollen rings around her wrists from the RECbed restraints, she can’t help but feel more asset than heir; and that she can’t compete with his drive to bring dreams to life. His unbending need to dominate the dream industry has shaped her, ruined her in some ways. But recently, it has been so clear to Vi that she doesn’t have to be his sacrificial lamb anymore; that there may be a way out.

“You can’t leave Dream Bow. We own you for the next seven years,” Corin monotonously explains. He releases one of her arms and bends down to scratch his ankle. He peers up at Vi as he excessively satisfies the itch. He pulls at her arm to stand himself up again, “There are too many people counting on you. You are going to keep dreaming because there truly is no alternative.”

But Genevieve has imagined too often that other dimension, where she has emancipated herself and ignored all the empty promises. She tries to assure herself that somewhere, at some point, there is a happier version of her worth living for. Because after more than ten years of exposing her inner dreams to the world, she feels hollowed. Corin doesn’t let her daydream long. And because the company relies on her so much, decides to stoop to conquer: “Do not go to him.”

To this, Vi blurts a resounding guffaw followed by a curt: “Or?”

“I will end it.”