Art by  0rcawolf!

4 more until the 150th Frappuchino!

* * *

The dream. Again. Venti felt as if his legs were ten ton weights as he struggled towards the beach, his back as always to the relentless crash of the surf. The figure in the distance, a grainy blur. No way to focus on it. The surfboard? Everpresent.

Is this supposed to be a nightmare? Venti thought as he focused his will on his hands which seemed to not grip the surfboard but to have melded with the object. It would be so nice to know why my fucking subconscious is doing this to me.

He tried to run faster, to close the distance between him and the mysterious figure, but it was useless--the grainy figure stayed out of focus and out of reach.

He stumbled onto the ground. This time he did not try to regain his footing, but he found his legs were betraying him now as they crawled along the sandy beach. The drag of the surfboard slowed him down regardless. It was not his friend.

The figure waited patiently. It would always wait for him. And then Venti knew who the figure was! He knew how to end this cycle of dreamed up helplessness. All he had to do was say the name and he would--

His eyes opened up. "Dammit," he muttered as he grabbed wildly for the little dream journal. He was still muddled from the abrupt wakefulness, and soon his memory of the solution would fade. He had to write it down. Where was his pen? There, on the carpet. He touched pen to paper, and was about to write down the name of--

His cell phone rang, the ring tone indicated Kedar's number. Where was his phone? In the kitchen, where he left it. Kedar would only call if he needed Venti to open, so he set the journal aside and moved quickly to answer the phone. Kedar needed Venti to open, sure enough. He said he would. After a few more seconds of Kedar's gratitude, he went back to his bedroom so he could write down the solution in the journal.

It was too late. The dream faded out of recollection.

He couldn't remember the name.

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