Chapter 48: S#8. Cloverfield (5)

“You had a nightmare, didn’t you?”

Dad said.

I nodded.

The logs in the fireplace quietly burned down.

“Let me tell you about the butterfly dream,” Dad said gruffly, his gaze still fixed on the newspaper.

It was a story about a man who had a butterfly dream, one that seemed familiar.

I looked at Dad.

“But Dad, I’m curious about something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Since when have we had a fireplace?”

Dad lowered the newspaper he was holding.

Above the neck was Mr. Strode’s face.

When I opened my mouth, a horrible metallic sound came out.

-I realized his face was melting like ice cream.

Something burst out of his collapsed skull.

It was a burnt teddy bear.

“You…”

“It’s been a while, Summer.”

CaptainBear. Nancy’s cursed doll.

Its blunt hand was fitted with three blades.

It was unbelievable.

He had been run over by a car, shot by a shotgun, and burnt to death.

How could he reappear?

Holding onto my crumbling sanity, I spoke.

“This too… was it all a dream?”

“Exactly.”

CaptainBear grinned crookedly.

“But it’s not your dream. This is Nancy’s dream.”

“Nancy’s dream…? Now I see. It was all your doing. You dragged my mind here and toyed with it.”

In Nancy’s sleeping dream.

Dragging even my sleeping mind here, to put on a show.

But CaptainBear shook his head.

“Think back to the beginning.”

“What?”

“The beginning of this dream.”

The events of today flashed quickly through my mind.

I tried to pinpoint when I fell asleep but there was no such moment. Not even a moment of dozing.

So when did it become a dream?

“The starting point of sleep and dreams is never known, Summer. Nor is your starting point.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t drag you here. You are merely a part of this nightmare.”

“What……?”

“You are a fictional being created in Nancy’s dream.”

So, I am a figment of a dream?

I laughed out of disbelief.

“That’s complete nonsense. Sorry, but I definitely exist.”

“Of course, you exist. But only in this dream, not in reality.”

From the melted torso, CaptainBear descended. He moved towards the front door. I followed him.

I opened the front door, and a familiar space unfolded.

A cold funeral parlor.

But instead of a funeral portrait, there was a mirror.

Reflected was my 10-year-old face, blurry and the features were unnatural.

As if it was a recollection of my face from my childhood…

“You’re an empty ghost.”

Nancy’s dream. Am I a ghost within it?

Suddenly, I felt a chill at CaptainBear’s words.

I tried to maintain as much composure as possible.

“Ah… that doesn’t make sense. If I’m just a character in a dream, then my knowledge would be limited to what Nancy knows. But I know things even Nancy doesn’t.”

“That’s merely something Nancy unconsciously created. She picked and combined information from the stories you told.”

“That makes no…”

Sense at all.

I recalled the movies I had seen. A lot of horror movies came to mind.

Movies I had told Nancy I liked.

But I couldn’t recall the detailed plots at all. I couldn’t even remember the actors or still shots.

All I could recall was the information I casually mentioned to Nancy when discussing ‘favorite movies.’

Faces of people like Stallone and Jerry, which Nancy had never seen herself, came to mind.

My memories were blurry like a mosaic.

I recalled anecdotes I had told Nancy about them, but the details eluded me.

How do you know about the narrator?

That reminds me, I did mention it casually once.

Since Nancy didn’t believe I was a 20-year-old from Korea, I joked that a woman named ‘Narrator’ lives in my head.

I remembered that.

I tried to recall my real father’s face but, for some reason, Mr. Strode’s face came to mind instead.

The limits of memory define the limits of the dream… It’s nothing more than a combination of elements I’ve seen and heard.

I wasn’t the real Summer.

I was just a phantom, defined only by what Nancy could remember.

“You are not a person, Summer. You are merely a fragment of a dream.”

“……”

“To reveal this truth, I led you to the deepest part of the dream,” CaptainBear explained, flicking his clawed hand towards me.

A sensation of reality becoming distant washed over me.

All of CaptainBear’s claims are true. This is Nancy’s dream, and I am just a part of it.

A butterfly dream.

I was merely a flutter of butterfly wings.

A shock like a brick falling hit me. My legs gave way.

“CaptainBear… what happens to me if Nancy wakes up from this dream?”

“You’ll vanish like smoke. You’re just an existence within a dream.”

Vanish.

So, I die?

“They call the process of coming to terms with death the ‘Five Stages of Death.’ The first stage is ‘denial.'”

“Cut the crap… I have consciousness! I won’t be deceived by your f*cking nonsense!!!”

“The second stage, ‘anger.'”

Suddenly, rage surged through me. I lunged at CaptainBear.

But my body passed through him like a ghost.

Punching and kicking did the same; my attacks cut through the air, not reaching him.

All the enemies I had faced before were physical beings.

They could be killed by tearing them apart with force.

But a nightmare isn’t a physical being.

CaptainBear sneered.

His arm stretched out like he had eaten a Gum-Gum Fruit.

His clawed hand fiercely scratched me.

A strike I couldn’t resist. The pain was vivid.

I collapsed to my knees, realizing I couldn’t win the fight.

“The third stage, ‘bargaining.'”

“Hold on, CaptainBear… Let’s talk this out.”

“Then the fourth stage, ‘depression.'”

I tore at my hair.

Intense fear overwhelmed me.

I am a part of the nightmare. I am an entity that will disappear when Nancy wakes up.

Like how the butterfly vanishes when awakened from the butterfly dream…

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

Even knowing I was a fictional being, the thought of ceasing to exist was terrifying.

But… everyone dies at some point.

“You’ve reached the fifth stage, ‘acceptance’!”

“…People die.”

As I resolutely accepted my death, the burnt face of the teddy bear grotesquely twisted.

“The speed of your progression through the stages of death is extremely fast. That proves you’re not human.”

“……”

All of this is just a dream.

The consciousness I feel is also a fantasy created by Nancy.

I have no substance. I am utterly empty.

“But Summer, even though you are created, there’s still a way for you to live.”

“A way… to live…?”

CaptainBear extended his clawed hand. In it was an axe.

I accepted the axe.

Suddenly, I was back in my original body from being a 10-year-old.

I saw myself in the mirror of the funeral home. I looked better than my original face, perhaps due to a Nancy filter.

I followed CaptainBear out of the funeral home.

Returning to where I came from, the living room with a fireplace and an armchair should have appeared.

But the place had changed.

It was Nancy’s room.

—
Raei  Translations
—

At first glance, it seems like an ordinary room, but the shapes of various objects are exaggerated.

The bed was shaped like a fortress, the rainbow painting on the wall rippled like it was real, and the toys moved as if alive.

It was like a world seen through the eyes of a child.

In the center of the room, little Nancy sat, about five years old.

She had a doll-like, adorable cuteness.

Little Nancy didn’t recognize CaptainBear or me; it was as if we were invisible.

“Nancy waking up won’t cause me to disappear. I have eternal life because I can remain in Nancy’s dream,” CaptainBear explained.

“Summer, cooperate with me, and I will grant you this life force as well.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Carve into Nancy’s memories, not with scissors, but with an axe.”

This place is Nancy’s subconscious—a space where memories lie dormant.

CaptainBear sought to edit memories, specifically to carve out certain memories from Nancy’s mind.

He promised to grant me life force if I followed his instructions. With this life force, I wouldn’t vanish, even if Nancy woke up.

“Carve out memories? Why don’t you do it yourself, CaptainBear?”

“It’s your role,” he replied, pointing at my axe with the tip of his clawed hand.

“Use the axe, Summer.”

“And if I refuse your offer?”

“You have no choice.”

To survive, I must tamper with Nancy’s memories.

I stared at CaptainBear.

His face charred, as if burnt between the cracks of a grill, grotesque in appearance.

His curse was one of jealousy. His intentions were transparent.

“…You’re trying to prioritize yourself in Nancy’s memories.”

“That’s correct.”

He aimed to erase all other precious memories, leaving only himself as a treasured memory.

It was a chilling level of obsession.

Little Nancy, seated in the middle of the room, hummed a tune while busily fidgeting with her tiny hands.

Upon closer inspection, she was making a sock doll, intended as a gift for her father, who was departing for Mexico.

“Start with that memory,” commanded CaptainBear.

I gripped the axe handle tightly.

After all, I am merely an existence within a dream, a mere flutter of butterfly wings. I can never leave Nancy’s dream.

Yet, I didn’t want to disappear. The thought of annihilation terrified me.

Even if it meant erasing Nancy’s memories, even committing such vile acts, I wanted to remain.

It was a strangely desperate instinct for survival.

Slowly, I approached little Nancy.

When I snatched the sock doll from her small hands, she froze as if time had stopped.

I sliced through the sock doll with the axe. It cut smoothly, like slicing through tofu. The memory of the sock doll separated from Nancy’s mind.

CaptainBear collected the pieces of the sock doll into a sack labeled ‘Tromaville Butcher Shop.’

Then, a splashing sound came from somewhere.

Soon after, the door creaked open.

The visitor was little Olivia.

CaptainBear issued the same command again.

I axed little Olivia, who, though human in appearance, was made of rubber clay inside.

I placed the pieces into the sack. Once again, the sound of water splashing echoed.

“I’ve been hearing that splashing sound for a while now.”

“That’s Nancy struggling in her subconscious,” CaptainBear explained, pointing to the floor with his clawed hand.

Beneath our feet lay the bedrock of the unconscious.

“It’s her struggling to prevent the loss of memories. Nancy is flailing now, but she will soon be completely submerged,” he added.

I walked out the door.

Other memories of Nancy awaited us: vibrant moments of elementary school, high school graduations, and college orientation; times spent with Ellen; friends; delicious food; good music, books, and movies; everyday life…

I held the axe.

When I used to slaughter monsters, there was no hesitation, but now it’s different.

It feels like there’s a massive hole in my heart, from which my humanity is steadily leaking out.

But if I don’t do this, I will cease to exist.

To survive, I’ve been axing Nancy’s brightest moments.

Each strike is accompanied by a splashing sound—the sound of Nancy struggling in her subconscious.

CaptainBear put the chopped memories in the bag.

The bag swelled up.

Smiling, CaptainBear speaks up, “You look troubled.”

“I… I am a traitor…”

“There’s no need to despise yourself. You’re the one who’s been betrayed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, you are merely a ghost created in Nancy’s dream.”

“…”

“You were created based on Nancy’s thoughts. The personality you have now is exactly how Nancy has always seen and judged you.”

“That means…”

A person who would butcher the memories of someone dear to survive.

Nancy thought of me that way?

“In the end, you were just that to Nancy.”

My shoulders trembled.

CaptainBear stopped in his tracks.

“We’ve already come this far.”

Suddenly, we were in the middle of a forest.

—