Biology class was such a bore. It's hard to believe that any boy would want to reproduce. There was no point in humans having separate genders. All it does is make everything harder for me, someone who can enter someone's dreams. I never understood why I was able to look into other's dreams while they slept, but it always made it hard to offer my services to females. They always make me so uncomfortable when I try to do it, so I always decline their offers.

There was a snap of a ruler that broke me from my internal trance. Staring at me was the Advanced Biology teacher, Ms. Fauna. Around me was a collection of other seniors and juniors sitting around me, staring at me. Normally, they'd be laughing when somebody got into any kind of trouble, but they're no longer stupid freshmen. "Daydreaming, Thompson?" Ms. Fauna softly growled, as if trying to contain uncontrollable irritation.

Everyone around me kept quiet, except for the person who sat next to me with a matching, stagnant white skin color, named Bronson. "He is the dream kid," He commented, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"I was not asking for your input, Richard," She remarked. "Thomas Thompson, speak up already."

I softly sighed under my breath. There was no point for formalities such as referring to people by their last name at this dull school, yet Ms. Fauna did so despite that. Even if it is respectful, it doesn't excuse her rudeness. "I'm... thinking of what we're learning about." I responded, finally.

"Reproduction?"

"Yes."

"...How expected of a boy," Ms. Fauna stated with a soft laugh, standing beside the whiteboard and dusting off her dress adorned with floral decor.

I immediately rolled my eyes. I didn't care if it was rude. She was the one being rude in the first place. It's all she knows how to do: be mean to me. It's hard to be nice to somebody who's always the opposite, no matter the circumstance.

My eyes glanced around my current location, to the other front row seats surrounding me, Bronson, and the clock above the whiteboard. It was only a few more minutes until the class' end already. Ms. Fauna is the mistress of wasting swarms of fleeting time. I wonder why she even bothers. Everything we're learning is all things I've already seen. The school staff that gave me my classes practically forced it upon me.

Now I have to sit through learning about the reproductive parts of a woman, which I already know about and don't give a single care about.

I want to snuggle a pillow until I'm violently smothering it.

My eyes were drawn to Ms. Fauna's eyes, my eyelids fighting the urge to shut completely. I'm trying to listen but it's tiresome to do so. The room was too blurry to make out any particular details. What I could notice was Bronson periodically glancing at me. Maybe he wanted something to happen? While I glance at the people surrounding me more and more, they're all staring at me.

I realized it.

I was trying not to doze off. Losing consciousness in any way is a surefire way for someone to look directly at you, for they'd see a spectacle, a spectacle of sleep. Dozing off is one of the greatest and most sporadic flashes of what would normally be a long-winded scene of a colorful burst of hues and the spontaneous generation of anthropomorphic renditions of one's person.

Accidentally, I dozed off.

After a flash of sudden darkness, the blurry lights of the classroom erupted back into my vision. My head was staring down at my desk, then suddenly, I could see everything around me, the shocked faces of my peers, the disappointment drove deep into my teacher's expression, and my body, covered in pink fur and clad with six humanoid arms neatly positioned in different sections of my chest all sprawled out onto my desk, limp and sore as if they had just wildly sprouted from my body. It felt shocking, surprising, and simply absurd at that moment but the moment I began to feel the deja vu sink in: this has happened many times before.

Then I began calming down.

I'm going to look like a pink spider guy for the next eight hours. Though normally I'd expect people to start laughing or touching my fluff, they don't. They're probably used to this happening, at this point. The only thing that I do notice is the quiet whispering amongst the people in the back and around me, not including Bronson. I've been acquainted with him enough to know what makes me uncomfortable.

"Thomas," Ms. Fauna sighed, resting a hand on her face. "Just about everyone can do that in bed. It's inappropriate for you to do so now. Please make sure you're well-rested before getting to class and have responsibility for once in your life."

"But‒" I attempted to make a fruitless protest.
"You're interrupting the lecture," She sighed. "That's obvious, yes?"

I gave up on saying anything else. It truly was pointless.

Bronson nudged me, grabbing one of my many hands. "You're so cool when you transform..." He murmured, making a small grin.

"Richard," Ms. Fauna huffed. "Quiet‒"

The bell silenced her, much as she tried to silence Bronson for the second time. Time is my savior.

I collected my notes (which I didn't even notice were on my desk) and my bookbag. Then once again, Bronson grabbed my other hand. "Soft..." He whispered.

"You don't have to act so weirdly about me when I'm in a sleep state," I laugh, breaking eye contact briefly as I tried to get to my last class. Still, Bronson persisted, "Well, you are cute."

"Th-thanks," I stammered at the compliment. "But I'd like to get to class𑁋"

"Oh, right! Sorry," He swiftly apologized, removing his hands from my wrist. "...Weird how our town works."

"How it turns everyone into a monster?" I laughed. "I love it."

After all, life would be too boring to live in if this town didn't exist. This town, simply called Ren, has always rested in this little portion of northeastern America. Despite its size, it has gotten so many visitors for its mystical properties that cause everyone to transform into who they truly are the moment they fall dead asleep or even fall the littlest bit unconscious. That's what the tour guides always say.

Whenever you sleep here, you enter what we call a sleep state where the body undergoes a quick transformation into a physical avatar of sorts. It's created from internal and external effects on the body, causing the body to alter itself instantaneously to an accurate representation of the person's character. Due to this, children tend to have many different forms rather than a singular form that people often recognize. When you grow into your teenage years, you often have a more consistent form, just like my spidery, six-armed self. Despite how much I love it, it's a bit difficult when eyes are immediately glued to you the moment you suddenly transform into this unexpected beast. Most of the creatures I've seen are animalistic due to many people resonating with them, though there have been a few bizarre transformations that occur here from some tourists.

One of the other reasons tourists come here is because of me, the fabled dream watcher. If I embrace one tightly while they're in this sleep state, I can look into what they're dreaming about and what's truly occurring within them. It's an easy way to go to sleep fast, but it's also what makes me so drowsy throughout the day, ironically. I could never figure out why. Maybe I'm not sleeping when I see other's dreams?

Seeing dreams is why I love this town, as long as people don't ruin it, which is what some people have done. It makes me so sad that people try to ruin a transcendent experience by trying to make it all sensual only to amuse and entertain their friends for a laugh. It's annoying.

Even with these temporary woes, I press on. With my things gathered, I head out the exit of the classroom and into a hallway. Once I turn toward the staircase, I see someone staring at me as if dumbstruck behind the stairway railing. He seems to not originally come from here, for most of the population is white and he seems so entranced by someone in a sleep state. Has he not even researched a bit of this town?