Per 
August of 1965 was an exceptionally boring one, at least for Ty Ghant, who, for once in his entire life, was wishing school was still open. Miami was supposed to be exciting, adventurous, fun! Unfortunately, those three words described exactly what that summer wasn’t. And although Ty’s summer was going to become far more interesting, it was certainly not going to be fun.
Ty had spent most of his free time going for walks in the nearby forest, although he would never bring a friend. He liked walking alone, especially since there was nothing interesting to talk about even if he did bring a friend. Camping also wasn't an option, since nothing interesting ever happened during those either. The summer was boring, and nothing would change that.
On his fifth walk that week, Ty stumbled across something that caught his eye. Laying in the dirt just off the trail, he noticed a white telephone wire, extending deep into the forest. The wire was in tip-top shape as if it was brand new; it had no dirt smudges, grime, scratches… it was untouched. Ty, out of mostly just boredom, decided to follow the wire, not really considering if there could be any possible consequences.
He stumbled his way through the woods, pushing past bushes, jumping over weeds, kicking up leaves and clumps of dirt, he tripped over rocks, he-
WOOSH!
Ty flew into a thorn bush, thorns stabbing deep into his face and skin. He unwillingly spiraled into a forward roll, slamming his skull against the dirt, groaning. He sat there for a moment, expecting the world to be spinning, expecting to even blackout, or his head to be aching slightly more than it actually did. However, none of these things were the case. He was wide awake.
His head didn’t hurt that badly. It more or less felt like he slammed his head against a wall - although it hurt, it only hurt for a moment before going away.
Ty pushed himself up from the dirt, running his fingers through his hair and brushing himself off. His fingers were coarse, chalky with dirt, but he could wash it all off when he got home. In the meantime, he still had to pick the thorns from his face, which stung tremendously. He could barely even grip onto every tiny thorn, every little point. The stinging hurt, but the psychological torment of having to find, grip, and pull out every tiny spike was worse. Fixing the problem was always worse. Always harder. Getting into the problem is easier though. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re in a pickle ‘till the world gives you a face full of thorns.
About halfway through painstakingly removing the thorns from his face, Ty stopped. Not because he was tired of pulling the plants from his face (although he was), but instead because he heard clamping behind him. Like hooves of a horse, walking across a road. Each clamp was evenly spaced out with a good second in between each clamp. Whatever was behind him, which he assumed to be a horse, was extremely calm and docile. Not frightened at all by Ty’s sudden appearance.
Slowly, Ty decided to turn around. He didn’t know why, but then again, he didn’t really know why he followed the telephone wire either. He just assumed it was out of boredom. However, the thing in front of Ty was not boring in any capacity. The thing in front of Ty, was, by the very definition, mystical.
In front of Ty were a herd of sheep, completely consumed and wrapped in telephone wire, which hung low to the ground in a messy, yet somehow natural fashion. Each wire managed to wrap around another wire, creating the illusion of fur through the plastic that protected the wires. From afar, it would be hard to tell that the sheep were artificial if it weren’t for the fact that where their heads should be, sat white, shiny, untouched phone sets. Each sheep moved to its own volition, leaning down as if to eat grass although it had no mouth, looking around although they had no eyes. The one thing they didn’t do was “baa” - they were completely silent besides the clamping of their hooves.
Ty, who was basically in a trance, suddenly realized that the boredom of his summer was finally about to come to an end. Whatever he had stumbled across, was certainly, by some means, revolutionary. Whoever had built these things not only must’ve been skilled at engineering, but also was talented in the ways of abstract art. For a good second, Ty considered attempting to find the creators - maybe they had just lost the sheep. However, Ty quickly decided against it, as he realized that would just return him to his original state of boredom. He had to do something with the sheep while he had them. They obviously had a purpose, as nobody makes anything without a purpose. If Ty could figure out what that purpose was, then maybe he could use the creature for his own purposes.
Even to himself, these thoughts sounded border-line malicious, even greedy, but what else was he going to do? Spend the rest of the summer wandering around in the woods out of pure boredom? No, of course not! So, with that thought in mind, he approached the sheep very slowly, softly placing each foot in front of the other, careful to not step on any sticks or leaves. One of the sheep turned its head towards him, the summer sun reflecting off the plastic phone set. Ty, who was able to get a closer look, noticed that the rotary dial had no numbers, and instead was just the white shell of the phone itself. Ty took another step closer. The sheep stood still, facing him. Ty took the chance, lunging forward and ripping the handset from the rest of the phone.
Ring!
The phone shook, a single ring blasting through the speakers. Ty stumbled backward, dropping the phone, startled.
Ring!
The phone dangled from the wire, hanging a few inches above the ground. The sheep stood still, and Ty picked up the phone again.
Ring!
“Hello, I am Emily from The Oneiroi Collective,” A rough, female voice said on the other side of the phone. She sounded confident like she had done this a dozen times before. “Our dreams in stock today are the following: Adventure, Horror, Romance, Action-”
“Woah, Woah, slow down,” Ty said, his voice uneasy. He tried to clear his voice, although it didn’t help. “What do you mean, ‘our dreams in stock today?’ What is any of this?”
The operator sighed, annoyed. “Did you not read the product?”
Ty lowered the phone, looking at the phone stand itself. The words, “Make your own Custom dreamscapes, with your friends at The Oneiroi Collective” were printed below the dial.
“Yeah, that still doesn’t really explain anything,” Ty muttered. “Look, just elaborate or whatever.”
“It’s literally on the- ugh, okay, so here at The Oneiroi Collective, we make products to enhance the realm of dreaming. This product, which we’ve called ‘Dial-a-Dream,’ allows you to create custom dreams, which we deliver right to your mind, free of charge.”
Ty chuckled, glancing at the forest around him. “Cool… so, uh, nice… prank or whatever. I’ll be on my way.” Ty was about to put down the phone, disappointed that the entire thing was probably just one big joke. I mean, it had to be a joke. Right?
“Wait!” Emily shouted from the other end.
Ty, who had the phone hovering above the stand, moved it back to his ear. “What?”
“If you order a dream we can prove you wrong. This is about trust. Order any dream you want, we will deliver. This is real. All you have to do is place an order.”
Ty thought for a moment, considering what she was saying, before deciding on a response. “Ya know what? Sure. I’ll order one of your dreams. Let’s see if you’re legit.”
“Great. The current dreams we have in stock are Adventure, Horror, Romance, Action, and Superhero. Select one to your liking.”
“Superhero.”
“Fantastic. What superpower do you want?”
“Flight. Oh, and X-ray vision. That could be cool.”
“Setting?”
“What?” Ty asked, confused.
“What setting do you want your dream to take place in?” Emily restated.
“Oh, uh… in a city completely made of light bulbs. I dunno why, it just sounds cool,” Ty replied, knowing that what he said was not cool, and, to him at least, incredibly ridiculous.
“Okay… what will the plot of this dream be?”
“Oh, uh, there’ll be this evil guy, and he wants to destroy all the light bulbs because he really likes breaking light bulbs. However, in the end, I turn him into lightbulbs, and he falls apart.”
“You turn him into lightbulbs?”
“Yeah. Just imagine being turned into a bunch of light bulbs. That would be pretty insane.”
“Mhm. Alright, your dream is filled out. You can hang up the call and the dream will be delivered. Have a good day.”
Ty laughed, placing the handset back with the rest of the sheep. He really didn’t expect anything to come of the call. It was probably still just a prank, an elaborate one at that. Turning someone into lightbulbs. How stupid is that, he thought to himself. Midway through a chuckle, he suddenly could feel his legs weaken. His arms became sore, and his eyelids were heavy. He tried to lean against a tree, but his legs came out from under him. He fell to the dirt, unable to use his arms to get back up. A wave of tiredness washed over him, consuming his entire brain as he tried desperately to keep his eyes open. It felt as if someone had chained bowling balls to his eyelids. His mouth felt dry like he had just choked down a bag of sand. His tongue was scratchy and tasted of expired beef jerky. He could feel the grit in between his teeth, the cracks in his lips. He couldn’t hold back any longer - he fell asleep.
Ty blinked himself awake, staring up at the night sky. He was face-up, lying in a pile of leaves. He had just had a dream, unlike anything he had ever seen. He had been in a city, completely made of lightbulbs. He could fly, see straight through walls whenever he wanted to, and there was this big, rich man, who wanted to break all the light bulbs in the city. But in the end, Ty turned him completely into light bulbs, and he fell apart. It was exactly what Ty had ordered. There were basically no differences, other than the fact that Ty had never specified that the villain was rich.
Ty took a few seconds to gather the strength to get up. It looked like it was about midnight, judging by the position the moon was in the sky - directly overhead. Geez, I should probably get home, Ty thought. My parents must be worried sick. He looked around, trying to find the phone cord that led him into the woods in the first place. Even with the moonlight beaming down at him, he couldn’t find it. He didn’t know if it was even still there. He knew that the sheep were still there, judging by the clamping behind him. If Ty couldn’t find the wire, then why not just stay in the woods for the night? That way, when it turned day, he could easily find the wire. Plus, he’d get a chance to use the sheep again.
One more dream couldn’t hurt, surely.
Ty had ordered two more dreams that night, both of which had come almost immediately. Ty had just woken up from the last dream he ordered, and it was about noon. He had only intended to order one more dream but got carried away. This, these sheep, was the key to ending his boredom. There was nothing to do in the real world but wander around mindlessly. Dreaming, though, was an escape. And now that he could control them with a simple phone call, he didn’t have to live the summer in the real world. If he wanted to, he could spend all his time asleep, dreaming.
Once Ty finally left the woods and stumbled his half-awake body home, he had to sit through a lecture from his father, and from a police officer who had been called to deal with a missing person report about Ty. Ty didn’t explain why he didn’t come home or where he was. He didn’t want to risk the livestock being taken away. If he was grounded, he would sneak out. It didn’t change anything. Being grounded was boring, but so was the summer. Ty would always be bored unless he had the sheep.
The sheep were the answer.
Sleep was the answer.
Sleep was freedom.
Sleep was everything.
RING! RING! RING! RING! RING!
Ty, who had zoned out in the middle of his father’s twenty-minute-long lecture, shot up from his seat. Maybe The Oneiroi Collective was calling him! Maybe he didn’t need the sheep anymore, maybe he could order the dreams from his own home! Maybe-
“Sit down, please, I’m not done yet,” Ty’s dad snapped, motioning for Ty to sit back down on the sofa. Ty was too focused on pushing past his father to notice that he didn’t have an angry expression - only a worried one.
“The phone, dad! I need to pick up the phone,” Ty scrambled into the kitchen, where his phone was hanging off the wall. He tore it off the base, nearly breaking the wire. He held the phone to his ear, expecting to hear the familiar sound of someone from The Oneiroi collective. No such luck.
Ty’s dad shook his head. “The phone wasn’t even ringing… what has gotten into you? I’m worried, Ty. I’m worried.”
“No, no, I heard the phone ring,” Ty insisted, spinning the dial rapidly, trying to figure out The Oneiroi Collective’s number.
“The phone didn’t ring.”
“Bullshit.”
“Language!” His dad grabbed Ty by the shoulder with a grip of stone and pulled him away from the phone. “The phone didn’t ring, end of the story. Now go to your room, you’re grounded.”
Ty only groaned, stomping upstairs to his room. He really wasn’t that mad, just annoyed. Staying in his room for the rest day didn’t really make him any more bored or any less bored. Instead of mindlessly wandering, he was mindlessly laying in bed all day. He tried to take a nap, but there was basically no reason to. He had already been spoiled, after ordering just three dreams. Just three. If he was going to sleep, he may as well use the sheep. After all, he needed the shee-
Wait, no I don’t. Why do I need the sheep again? I lived just fine without them… for almost a second, Ty began to question his need for the sheep. However, he eventually reminded himself that this summer was extremely boring and that there was nothing else to do with his time. Ty sighed, looking out the window, debating in his head if he should just jump out of it and sprint into the woods. He was seriously considering it when a clump of his own hair fell into his lap.
Ty froze, at first startled, before becoming confused. He reached up to his head, running his hand through his hair. At first, he didn’t feel anything until he lifted his hand away from his head. Clumped in between his fingers and stuck to his palm, sat brown, greasy strands of his own hair. Not even believing what he was seeing, he shook his head rapidly, trying to shake any loose hair - it didn’t even take five seconds - all his hair fell out. It scattered across his bed, the grey-ish, stained, carpet on the floor, some even flew onto his desk. Hair fell onto his lap, ears, nose… most of his hair wasn’t even on his head.
Ty, who was now shaking, shot up from his bed, scrambled towards his closet, and flung the door open. He ripped a red baseball cap off a hanger on the inner door, slamming the hat onto his nearly bald head. He then started to brush the hair under his bed with his hand, which only slightly worked. Some of his hair stuck to his hand, but most of it went under his bed.
What the… why!? Why is this happening!? Why to me?! Ty searched his mind for answers but found none. There was no logical reason behind this. He hadn’t ordered a dream where his hair fell out, he was healthy (all be it he hadn’t taken a shower in a while)… there were no answers. No clues, either. Little to his knowledge, he was about to get more than a clue.
After cleaning up most of the hair, he hurried to his bathroom to check the damage done to his head. He stumbled in front of the mirror, looking at himself. There were bags under his eyes, despite having slept through most of the day. His face looked dirty, his lips cracked and dry. His palms were sweaty, his hands were shaking. He reached up to take the hat off his head, but hesitation stopped him. He wondered if it was a better idea to not know at all, to just move on with his day and pretend like nothing ever happened. He knew that he couldn’t, but he liked the idea of moving on with his day. Pretending nothing ever happened, like this was all a bad, bad, dream. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.
Ty sighed, flicking the cap off his head and looking back up at the mirror. There were few hairs left on his head - most of it had shaken off. Ty could literally feel his heart sink at the sight. He could feel his stomach churn like he was being thrown around on a sinking ship. He could feel the sting of vomit in his mouth, which only tasted of bits of bagel, which had been the only thing he had when he got home. He leaned over the bathroom sink, shaking, keeping his eyes closed. He swallowed the vomit, which scorched his throat as it slid back into his stomach.
Shaking and shivering in the scorching heat of the summer, Ty reached for his hat to put it back on. He stopped though, as he felt something in his throat. It was smooth, yet scratchy - it felt almost like a worm, or at least it was shaped like one. Out of instinct, Ty coughed, which suddenly turned into a gagging-fit of desperation to get it out of his throat. He could feel the worm-like thing dangling in his windpipe, maybe it was even a part of his throat: it was hard to tell. All he knew was that it was getting hard to breath, and he was slamming his fist against his chest in the desperate hope to get it out of his throat. He coughed up blood and spit, sometimes even a bit of vomit, before it finally slid onto his tongue and out through his mouth. It fell into the sink, covered in blood and saliva. It was shaped almost like a spring, though Ty was sure it wasn’t one. Maybe it was…
A phone wire?
Ty reached his shaking hand into the sink, picking up the wire. He held it up to his face, his hand shaking too much to hold it up for more than a couple of seconds. It fell back into the sink. On the verge of tears, Ty picked back up his hat and looked into the mirror. His skin had since turned a ghostly white; as white as the handset phones the sheep had on their head. He closed his eyes, stumbling out of the bathroom and into the hallway.
They did this to me. This was them. This has to be them. It has to be their fault. The Sheep. The Oneiroi Collective.
Ty barely managed to walk himself down the hallway and into the living room, where he lunged for the bookshelf. He flung books off of it and onto the floor until he found what he was looking for - a worn, yellow, phone book. Pages were stained, one was even torn out and taped back in place. The front of the book was missing, leaving only the first page in view. Even in the book’s poor condition, it almost meant everything to Ty. He needed to call The Oneiroi Collective. They were the only people who could fix what they’ve done.
Ty flipped through page after page, some even crumbling in his hands. With every flip his fingers felt more frail and fragile, his pinky even twisting and contorting. He could feel his bones turning, crunching, but felt no pain. He couldn’t feel anything - his whole body felt like plastic, especially his fingers, which had turned into a heap of phone wires that barely worked at all.
By the time he turned the last page (which was an immense struggle), his entire arms were a floppy, mass of wires. His bones were gone, he knew that, as he could hear them crunching and twisting into shape. Where his hair had been, more wires grew into place. Not that there was much to do - he couldn’t find a way to call the collective. There was no number, no one to call. Every page he had turned burned more hope, burned more sanity. The ruined state of the book mirrored the ruined state of Ty Ghant, who was sobbing into the already stained pages of the book. Just as he thought there was nothing left to do, he got an idea.
The sheep. They let me call The Oneiroi Collective. I need to get them-
He didn’t even finish his thought before he was out the front door, sprinting down the sidewalk towards the forest, ignoring each house, ignoring the sunset, ignoring the kids who played basketball every single day, the kids who asked him every day if he wanted to play. He always said no, then continued to think about “the exceptionally boring summer of 1965.” Of course, Ty wasn’t thinking about that now. He was thinking about how his entire life might be ruined, about how there may indeed be no hope - nothing. Nothing but phone wires and dreams. At least, he was trying to think about that over the sounds of excruciatingly loud spinning of a dial, and phone rings, which seemed to be beaming into his ears from every direction.
He bolted into the woods, and down the trail. He dashed past a family just exiting the woods (who had gone on an exciting hike - one almost fell into a river!), a group of campers (last time they had gone camping, they attracted a bear!), he passed by all the things he didn’t do. It was much more convenient to follow the same routine. After all, in the “exceptionally boring summer of 1965,” Ty Ghant was sure that nothing could cure his boredom, other than the crisp fall breeze.
Ty eventually found the phone wire, which he followed through the woods. He didn’t need to duck under any branches or stomp through any leaves. He had already trampled them all. He had already seen everything there was to see.
He hadn’t, but he was allowed to think he had.
Eventually, Ty stumbled to the end of the cord, gasping out phone rings and coughing phone wires out of his throat. He could feel his face turning, twisting - he could hear his bones cracking. His legs were weak and unbalanced - his toes had already turned to wire, and his legs were sure to come next. While he was running, he could feel his torso change too. He had fallen over once or twice, the reformation of his rib cage rendering him temporarily immobile.
Ty looked around frantically, trying to find the sheep. Trying to find his escape. However, there were no sheep. They were gone. Completely gone. There was no hope. No escape. Ty couldn’t hold anything in anymore - he threw up more phone cords, panting. He felt more than sick - he felt terrified, afraid that if he closed his eyes he would completely transform, that he would dream forever. The dry nothingness on his tongue no longer tasted bland, it tasted more like rotten, moldy eggs, laced with cyanide, like the world was taunting him, saying, “Hey, Ty, remember taste? You’ll never taste anything again! Haha, ha ha ha ha!”
There was nothing Ty could do. The sheep were gone, any sign of them ever existing was gone, all that remained was Ty, whose skin was stretching and morphing into the shape of phone wires, whose bones were twisting and turning, who was sure there was nothing left to live for. No hope left to cling on to.
Just as Ty was about to sit down, give up, close his eyes, and fall asleep, he noticed something poking just out from behind a tree. A phone wire. Not the one he followed in, no. A new phone wire. He scrambled towards it, peering around the tree. The wire led even further into the woods, weaving around trees and through bushes. He didn’t hesitate to follow it. It was his only hope.
Just as he had done before, Ty desperately dashed through the woods, glancing down repeatedly just to check if the wire was still there. Just to check that he wasn’t dreaming. The skin on his legs began to finally turn, his bones giving out as they twisted into the shape of wire. He didn’t give up though. He knew there was hope. One last sliver of hope. He leaned on trees, practically dragging himself through the woods. His face began to turn too, his head contorting into the shape of a telephone, plastic slowly creeping over his skin, starting with his nose, which slowly flattened out, vanishing from his face altogether. Ty tried his best to ignore it, lunging from tree to tree, barely able to stand on his mushy, weak set of phone wire legs.
After a few minutes (perhaps hours, it felt like forever), he emerged from the forest, onto a road in the middle of nowhere. In front of him, was a towering office building, whose windows were boarded up. All of the colors were drained out of the structure, leaving dull, flaky, grey paint, coating most of it. Outside, walking through the front door, was a herd of sheep, made almost entirely of phone wires.
Ty felt like he had been resurrected, revived. He could feel a surge of hope running through his body like he had just been woken up from a bad, bad dream. In fact, he had never felt better in his life.
He hurried toward the sheep, grabbing one by its stubby tail and ripping the phone off its head. Instantly, he heard the familiar three rings and a voice on the other end.
“Hello, this is Mark from The Oneiroi Collective, the dreams we have in stock today are Romance, Adventure, Action, Horror, and Mystery,” Mark sounded tired, probably stuck in a dead-end accounting job at The Oneiroi Collective. Of course, Ty didn’t know that Mark didn’t really exist (in Ty’s dimension, at least), but that didn’t really matter.
“Uh, so I… I need help, and fast,” Ty stumbled through his words, barely even able to construct a coherent sentence. “I’m turning into- well, I don’t even know, I really need… hrm, I really need help.”
There was a moment of silence before Ty heard a chuckle on the other end. “Too many dreams kid, too many dreams. You see, nothing good comes without a catch. There are symptoms, side effects, that cannot be reversed.”
“Look, I don’t- how was I supposed to know this would happen? Look, all I need you to do is to fix me!” Ty raised his voice, not noticing that some of his words were replaced with the sounds of ringing. His entire body had also turned, including his head, which he also failed to notice.
“Are you deaf? I said, there are side effects that cannot be reversed. There is nothing you can do. Go order another dream or something. Judging by your voice, you got maybe a minute left, so make it count.”
“Wha- no! No! You did this to me! This is your fault! You can fix this, I know you can!” Ty was screaming into the phone at this point, although most of his words were unintelligible - replaced with more phone rings.
“Ugh, kid, I can barely even hear what you’re saying, so I’ll just hook you up with a romantic dream or something, and you’ll be off. Oh, and when you wake up you’ll probably be completely brain dead, so, uh, take note of that I guess.”
Ty broke. He found himself screaming into the phone, swearing, begging, although none of it came out as words. Just spinning of dials and phone rings. He could hear Mark humming, clearly ignoring him. Really, Ty couldn’t be mad, since every day, Ty would ignore people too. When the kids who played basketball asked if Ty wanted to play, they always knew he would say no. “Why is the summer so boring,” Ty would ask himself, groaning whenever he walked through the woods. Why is this summer so boring? Ask yourself that, Ty, ask yourself that one more time. You know the answer. You never would go out of your way to do anything, no! No! You still need more time, yes, you need more time to understand that your summer need not be so boring.
Mark stopped ignoring the rampage of buzzes for a split second, finally speaking once again, “Fine. I can’t fix you, but I can help you. Look, what I’m about to say might worry you, but there’s nothing else I can do. Because dreams can’t hold an entire functioning replication of reality, all I can do is put you in a dream that lasts forever, which will always take place during this summer. You’ll be stuck in your hometown, unable to go anywhere. Your physical body will completely change, but you’ll be spared from brain death.”
Ty thought for a moment.
“This is your choice, Ty. Your decision.”
Ty thought harder, in the little time he had.
He thought about the basketball kids, and how he turned them down for an entire summer. He thought about his dad’s lecture, which he’d never get to hear. He thought about the phone wire, and the sheep. He thought about the small things like how he hadn’t picked up and read a book in forever. He thought about all the things he’d never get to do, never get to see.
He thought about letting it end here, letting his life come to a close, and accepting brain death. Maybe this is where he was supposed to die. Maybe he didn’t need books, or his dad’s lecture, maybe he didn’t need to play basketball. Maybe all he needed was an ending.
No.
All he needed was a little more time.
"I-I'll take your offer."
And just like that, August of 1965 had become an exceptionally interesting one. All boringness would be sucked away, and adventure would begin all again. The summer would last forever, giving him a chance to finally do all the things he didn’t do. Finally, Ty would get what he wanted; an end to the boredom. An end that was always right in front of him. And if Ty didn’t know that yet, well, he’d have the whole summer to figure it out.
