CREDITS
The Wanderer Between Dreams
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I do not remember where I came from.
Not truly.
I remember fragments.
The distant hum of fluorescent lights.
The sound of rain against windows that no longer exist.
The feeling of standing in places that felt familiar despite never having seen them before.
Every memory I possess feels borrowed from someone else.
When I was younger, I searched endlessly for answers. I wandered through abandoned hallways, empty streets, forgotten playgrounds, and silent buildings swallowed by time. Each place felt like it should have meant something to me.
Yet none of them ever did.
Until one day, I found a door.
It stood alone in the middle of nowhere.
No walls.
No building.
Just a faded wooden door resting beneath a sky painted in soft violet clouds.
Curiosity overcame reason.
I opened it.
Beyond the threshold was a place unlike anything I had ever seen. Endless corridors stretched in every direction. Pools reflected stars that weren't present in the sky. Warm lights glowed from distant rooms that no one occupied.
And yet...
I wasn't afraid.
For the first time in my life, I felt as though I had returned somewhere I belonged.
The further I traveled, the more I began to notice strange things.
Rooms changed when I wasn't looking.
Doorways appeared where walls once stood.
Lost objects found their way into my pockets.
And occasionally, when someone felt alone enough, afraid enough, or forgotten enough...
They would appear.
Travelers.
People who had slipped between reality and dream.
Most arrived frightened.
Some arrived confused.
Others didn't realize they were lost at all.
So I stayed.
If these endless halls were willing to accept me, then perhaps I could help guide those who wandered into them.
For a long time, I believed I was alone.
I was wrong.
The Foundation found me eventually.
Not through force, nor by accident, but through years of reports. Strange sightings. Impossible photographs. Witness accounts that described a girl appearing in places that should not exist.
They followed the trail.
And eventually, they found me standing beneath flickering lights in a hallway with no beginning and no end.
At first, they tried to understand what I was.
An anomaly.
A phenomenon.
A person.
The truth seemed to be all three.
I wasn't hostile. I never had been.
I simply wandered.
I explored places that slipped between worlds and occasionally guided lost souls back home.
After years of observation, an agreement was reached.
I would be allowed to roam freely through the spaces between reality, provided I remained under observation.
No containment chamber.
No locked doors.
Just watchful eyes and endless documentation.
A fair trade, if you ask me.
Besides, I think they're just as curious as I am.
These days, I continue my travels through forgotten places, collecting stories from travelers and documenting the strange wonders hidden beyond ordinary reality.
The Foundation keeps their records.
I keep wandering.
And if you've somehow found your way here, then perhaps you've slipped through one of those doorways too.
Don't worry.
You're safe.
The observers are watching.
The lights are on.
And you're always welcome in the in-between.