The next morning—if there even was such a thing as morning in the Dreamscape—Mark found Maggie already awake on the couch.

  "You don't sleep?" she asked as he came down the stairs.

  "Not really. Don't need to here." He stretched, more out of habit than necessity. "How are you feeling?"

  "Fine. Good, actually." She stood up. "So what's next? More fear training?"

  "No. You've got the basics of control down. Now we move to the fun part." He gestured for her to follow him to the center of the room. "Creation."

  "Creating things. Like the pastries?"

  "Exactly. But intentionally this time. With control." Mark sat down cross-legged on the floor. Maggie mirrored him, Locke settling between them. "There are rules to this. Important ones. Break them and things get dangerous very quickly."

  "What kind of dangerous?"

  "The 'losing your mind' kind of dangerous." He said it matter-of-factly. "Creation in the Dreamscape requires visualization. You need a clear, accurate mental image of what you're making. The more complex the thing, the more detail you need."

  "And if you don't have a clear image?"

  "Then you create something wrong. Something that doesn't quite work right. Or something completely bizarre and useless." He paused. "Or worse—if you're trying to transform yourself without proper visualization, you can become something surreal. And when that happens, when your own body stops making sense, your mind can break trying to reconcile it."

  Maggie thought about Johnny. "Is that what happened to the dolphin? When he transforms into a person?"

  "Actually, no. Johnny's transformations work because he doesn't overthink them. He has a simple, clear image: 'human with muscles and cool hair.' That's enough for him. It's not detailed, but it's coherent." Mark leaned forward. "But if you tried to transform yourself without knowing exactly how human bodies work—where the bones go, how muscles connect, how organs function—you could end up as something that looks human but feels wrong. And your mind would know. That cognitive dissonance can drive you insane."

  "So... don't try to turn into a dolphin."

  "Don't try to transform into anything until you're much, much better at this." He stood up. "Which is why we're starting simple. Clothes."

  "Clothes?"

  "Low risk. If you mess up a shirt, worst case scenario is you're wearing something ugly. No mental breakdown required." He gestured at her current outfit—jeans and a plain t-shirt. "Plus, you've been wearing the same thing since you got here. Might be nice to change."

  Maggie looked down at herself. "I hadn't really thought about it."

  "Most people don't at first. But eventually you'll want to customize. Make yourself comfortable." He pulled a chair over and sat down. "So. Let's start even simpler. Create an accessory. A bracelet, a necklace, something small. Get used to the process."

  "How do I do it?"

  "Let me show you first." Mark held out his hand, palm up. "Watch."

  He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, a small object began to materialize above his palm—a pocket watch, forming piece by piece. First the chain, then the casing, then the internal mechanism visible through a crystal face. It settled into his hand, fully formed and ticking.

  "See? Visualization first. Every detail. Then manifestation." He tossed the watch to her. It felt real, solid, perfectly weighted. "Your turn. Start simple."

  Maggie closed her eyes. Thought about it. What kind of accessory? Something simple. A bracelet, maybe. Leather. Brown. Simple cord with—

  "Don't rush it," Mark said. "Take your time. Really see it. How thick is the leather? Is it smooth or textured? How does it clasp? What does it feel like against your skin?"

  Maggie focused. Brown leather cord. Woven. About a centimeter thick. Smooth but not polished. Closes with a simple knot. Feels warm. Comfortable. Real.

  She held the image. Made it solid in her mind.

  Then she reached out her hand and willed it to be there.

  A bracelet materialized against her wrist.

  Maggie opened her eyes.

  The bracelet was... wrong. The leather was too stiff, almost plasticky. The color was off—more orange than brown.

  And it was sinking into her skin.

  "What the—" Maggie grabbed at it, trying to pull it off. The edges were disappearing beneath her skin like the bracelet was melting into her arm. No blood. No pain. Just... fusion. "Mark?!"

  "Don't panic." Mark moved closer, examining her wrist. "You're panicking. That's making it worse."

  "It's going INSIDE my arm!"

  "Because you didn't define boundaries. Didn't specify where the bracelet ends and your skin begins." He kept his voice calm. "Focus. Un-make it. Now."

  Maggie tried. Gone. Not here. Stop existing.

  The bracelet kept sinking.

  "I can't!" Her breathing quickened. She could feel it now—not pain exactly, but a wrongness. Like her arm was something foreign. "Mark, I can't get it off—"

  "Yes, you can. Look at me." Mark grabbed her shoulders. "Breathe. The panic is feeding it. Making it more real. You need to calm down and focus."

  Maggie forced herself to breathe. To look at the bracelet-thing half-merged with her wrist. To really see it.

  You're not part of me. You don't belong here. Gone.

  Slowly—painfully slowly—the bracelet began to reverse. The edges re-emerged from her skin. The fusion stopped. And then, finally, it faded away completely.

  Maggie stared at her wrist. The skin looked normal. Felt normal. But the memory of that wrongness...

  "What the fuck was that?" Her voice shook.

  "That," Mark said seriously, "is why we practice with accessories first. If that had been your entire body? Your mind trying to reconcile being half-merged with something else?" He shook his head. "You'd be lucky to stay sane."

  Maggie sat back, heart pounding. "Fuck."

  "Yeah." Mark's expression was grave. "The Dreamscape isn't just fun and games, Maggie. Every creation is a risk. Every transformation. You need to respect that."

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  She nodded, still shaken. Looked at her arm again. Normal. Whole. Separate.

  "Okay," she said quietly. "Let me try again. More carefully this time."

  "Actually—different approach." Mark held up a hand. "Create it in your hand first. Not on your wrist. Make the object separate from your body, then put it on manually."

  "That makes sense." After what just happened, yeah. Obvious.

  He demonstrated anyway, manifesting a simple ring in his hand before slipping it onto his finger.

  "Okay. In my hand. Then put it on."

  The second attempt produced a bracelet that was the right color but kept shifting size, expanding and contracting like it was breathing.

  The third attempt created something that looked like a bracelet but felt slimy to the touch.

  "Why is it slimy?!"

  "Because you didn't specify texture clearly enough. Your mind apparently decided 'organic' meant 'wet.'" Mark was trying not to laugh. "Keep trying."

  The fourth attempt was closer—right color, right texture, but it had somehow gained small spikes on the inside that pricked her skin.

  "I hate this," Maggie muttered, un-making the spiked bracelet.

  "You're learning. That's the point."

  The fifth attempt finally worked. Brown leather cord. Woven. Smooth. Comfortable. Exactly as she'd imagined it.

  "There we go," Mark said. "Now do it again."

  Over the next hour, Maggie created dozens of small objects. Most of them wrong at first. A ring that was too small and got stuck on her finger. A hair tie that kept unraveling. A scarf that was somehow inside-out despite not having an inside. A pair of sunglasses where one lens was tinted green and the other purple.

  But slowly, gradually, she got better. The visualizations came faster. The materializations smoother. The failures less frequent.

  "You're getting the hang of it," Mark said eventually. "Ready to try something bigger?"

  "Like what?"

  "Full outfit. Complete change of clothes."

  Maggie looked down at her jeans and t-shirt. "Yeah. Actually, I've been thinking about that."

  "Oh?"

  "There's this style I want to try. Chinese dress. I don't know why, but it just... feels right. Like I should be wearing something like that." She stood up. "You think I could make that work here?"

  "If you can visualize it clearly enough, you can make anything work here." Mark gestured toward the hallway. "Might want to use another room, though. Changing clothes and all."

  "Right. Good point." Maggie started toward the stairs, then paused. "Locke, come with me?"

  The husky stood, tail swaying.

  Mark raised an eyebrow. "Is that really a good idea?"

  Maggie frowned. "Why wouldn't it be? He's a dog."

  "He is. But I can—" Mark stopped. "Never mind. Just... Locke will keep his eyes closed."

  "What? Why would—" Understanding dawned on Maggie's face. "Oh. Can you see through his eyes?"

  "He's an extension of me. So yes. Which is why he'll be keeping his eyes very firmly shut while you change."

  "That's..." Maggie shook her head. "Okay. Weird. But okay."

  "And Maggie?" Mark called as she reached the stairs. "Create the dress in your hands first. Then put it on. Don't try to manifest it directly on your body."

  She nodded, remembering the bracelet sinking into her skin. "Yeah. Not making that mistake again."

  "I'll make sure he behaves."

  Maggie headed upstairs with Locke following. She found an empty bedroom—bare except for a bed and a dresser. Perfect.

  "Okay, Locke. Eyes closed."

  The dog sat down and, somewhat comically, squeezed his eyes shut.

  "Good boy."

  Maggie stood in front of the dresser's mirror. Closed her own eyes. Time to focus.

  The dress she wanted to create. A qipao—or cheongsam, depending on who you asked. Traditional Chinese style, but modified. She needed something that allowed movement. High slits up the sides for leg mobility. Form-fitting but not restrictive. Sleeveless, or maybe cap sleeves.

  And the color. Yellow. Bright, vibrant yellow. This place needed some color. Some life. Something that wasn't grey and muted.

  She built the image piece by piece. The fabric—silk, smooth against skin. The collar—mandarin style, high and elegant. The closures—traditional frog buttons down the right side. The slits—high enough for full range of motion. The length—just above the knee.

  And underneath—black leggings. Practical. The high slits were good for mobility, but she'd want coverage for actual fighting.

  The yellow wasn't just any yellow. It was golden. Rich. Like sunlight.

  She held the image. Made it real in her mind. Every seam, every fold, every detail. The complete outfit.

  Then she opened her eyes and willed it into being.

  The air in front of her shimmered. The yellow fabric began to take shape—

  And immediately collapsed into a formless blob on the floor.

  "Shit." Maggie stared at the puddle of yellow silk. Too vague. She'd focused on the idea of the dress without holding the structure.

  She closed her eyes again. This time, she started with the frame. The bodice first—fitted but not tight. Then the skirt, falling from the waist. The collar, standing firm. She built it like Mark built his coffee mug. Piece by piece. Solid.

  She opened her eyes.

  The dress appeared in her hands—but it was inside-out. The seams showed. The frog buttons were on the wrong side.

  "Are you kidding me?" She held it up. Perfect construction. Wrong orientation.

  Locke made a small sound that might have been a laugh.

  "Eyes closed," Maggie reminded him.

  The husky's eyes snapped shut again.

  Third try. Maggie took a breath. Visualized it correctly this time. Outside facing out. Buttons on the right side. Seams hidden inside. Every detail in the right place.

  She opened her eyes and focused.

  The dress materialized in her hands—complete with black leggings folded underneath. Right-side out. Perfectly constructed. The yellow silk caught what little light filtered through the window, almost glowing. The mandarin collar stood crisp and elegant. The frog buttons traced down the right side. The slits fell exactly where she'd imagined them.

  Maggie stripped off her jeans and t-shirt, then pulled the outfit on. It fit perfectly. She moved experimentally. Kicked. Pivoted. The dress moved with her, never restricting, never catching. The leggings gave her coverage without sacrificing mobility.

  "Holy shit," she breathed. "I actually did it."

  Locke whined, eyes still firmly shut.

  "Okay, you can open them now."

  The dog looked at her, tail moving in approval.

  Maggie took one more look in the mirror, then headed back downstairs.

  Mark looked up as she entered. His expression shifted—surprise, then something like approval.

  "Well," he said. "That's different."

  "Different good or different bad?"

  "Different impressive. Clean materialization. Good mobility design." He stood up, circling her to get a better look. "The detailing is... ambitious for a first try."

  Maggie glanced down. She hadn't consciously thought about it, but delicate embroidery had formed along the collar and down the side closures—subtle floral patterns in slightly darker yellow thread, barely visible unless you looked closely. The frog buttons were intricate, traditional knotwork that must have required precise visualization.

  "I didn't even realize I was adding those details," she admitted.

  "Your subconscious filled them in. Since you had a strong overall image, it added appropriate elements instead of random ones." Mark nodded approvingly. "That's actually a good sign. Means your visualization was coherent."

  "It's also really flexible," Maggie said. She shifted her weight, raising one leg in a dynamic martial arts stance—knee bent at a sharp angle, thigh parallel to the ground. One arm came up above her head, fist clenched, while the other stayed at her side in guard position. The high slits of the qipao made the movement effortless. The silk flowed with her body, never restricting, the fabric catching the light as she held the pose. "See? I can move however I want."

  "Practical and stylish. Impressive." His eyes traveled over the dress. "You really committed to the yellow, huh?"

  "I like yellow."

  "Clearly." There was something odd in his tone. Almost cautious. "Just... be careful with that particular shade. It reminds me of a certain king."

  "A king?"

  "A story. Not a pleasant one." He waved it off. "Don't worry about it. Just a color. Probably means nothing."

  Maggie looked down at the dress. "Should I change it?"

  "No. It suits you. And honestly, the color probably doesn't matter. I'm just paranoid." He stood up. "Though I have to ask—any particular reason for the Chinese style?"

  "I don't know. It just... felt right? Like this is what I wanted to wear." She looked down at the dress. "Plus it's practical. Easy to move in."

  "Well, now you can wear whatever you want. One of the perks of the Dreamscape." He paused. "Not worried about cultural appropriation?"

  "In a dream world where I'm literally the only person here?"

  "Fair point." He circled her, examining the dress. "You know, you could complete the look."

  "How?"

  "Hair. You ever think about doing the whole..." He gestured vaguely around his head, "...double bun thing? Very traditional. Would match the aesthetic."

  Maggie gave him a blank look. "The what?"

  "You know. Two buns. One on each side. Classic look."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "It's a... never mind." He waved it off. "Probably just as well. Might push it into actual appropriation territory."

  "You're worrying about appropriation in an empty dream world."

  "I've been here for twenty years. I have to entertain myself somehow."

  "By being weird about hairstyles?"

  "Among other things."

  Despite herself, Maggie laughed. "I'm keeping my hair exactly as it is."

  "Your loss." But he was smiling. "Anyway. The dress looks good. You did well. Better than most people on their first real creation."

  "Thanks." Maggie looked down at herself again. The yellow silk. The comfortable fit. The freedom of movement. "This feels right. Like this is what I should have been wearing all along."

  "Then keep it. One of the rules of the Dreamscape—if something feels right, it probably is." Mark gestured toward the door. "Come on. Let's take this outside. Now that you can create things, it's time to teach you how to use them, including yourself."

  "Use them how?"

  "Fighting. Movement. All the things you'll need to survive out there." He opened the door. "Because creating a nice dress is great, but it won't help you if something dangerous shows up."

  "Fair point."

  Maggie followed him outside, Locke trotting at her heels.