Dreamworld

by Isaac Asimov

At thirteen, Edward Keller had been a science fiction devotee for four years. He bubbled with galactic enthusiasm.

His Aunt Clara, who had brought him up by rule and rod in pious memory of her deceased sister, wavered between toleration and exasperation. It appalled her to watch him grow so immersed in fantasy.

“Face reality, Eddie,” she would say, angrily.

He would nod, but go on, “And I dreamed Martians were chasing me, see? I had a special death ray, but the atomic power unit was pretty low and—”

Every other breakfast consisted of eggs, toast, milk, and some such dream.

Aunt Clara said, severely, “Now, Eddie, one of these nights you won’t be able to wake up out of your dream.

You’ll be trapped! Then what?”

She lowered her angular face close to his and glared.

Eddie was strangely impressed by his aunt’s warning. He lay in bed, staring into the darkness. He wouldn’t like to be trapped in a dream. It was always nice to wake up before it was too late. Like the time the dinosaurs were after him—

Suddenly he was out of bed, out of the house, out on the lawn, and he knew it was another dream.

The thought was broken by a vague thunder and a shadow that blotted the sun. He looked upward in astonishment and he could make out the human face that touched the clouds.

It was his Aunt Clara! Monstrously tall, she bent toward him in admonition, mastlike forefinger upraised, voice too guttural to be made out.

Eddie turned and ran in panic. Another Aunt Clara monster loomed up before him, voice rumbling.

He turned and ran in panic. Another Aunt Clara monster loomed up before him, voice rumbling.

He turned again, stumbling, panting, heading outward, outward.

He reached the top of the hill and stopped in horror. Off in the distance a hundred towering Aunt Claras were marching by. As the column passed, each line of Aunt Claras turned their heads sharply toward him and the thunderous bass rumbling coalesced into words:

“Face reality, Eddie. Face reality, Eddie.”

Eddie threw himself sobbing to the ground. Please wake up, he begged himself. Don’t be caught in this dream.

For unless he woke up, the worst science-fictional doom of all would have overtaken him. He would be trapped,trapped, in a world of giant aunts.