What A Dream Wants

Editor: Please don't tell me we're starting again with the disclaimers and editor/author's notes. I thought we finally got over that. Why start now?

Author: This book won't get over its silly phase that soon. Actually, I just added the disclaimer, just in case anyone takes this seriously. Then again, nobody takes books seriously. Who reads books?

Editor: This is a book you're writing.

Author: It's a bunch of words, not a book!

Editor: ...

. . .

Lukas explained cultivation to him.

"Oh! I know! You absorb energy into your body and boom! You become stronger!" Jess summarized.

"What? No." Lukas paused for a moment before realizing cultivation was exactly that. "Okay, sort of... Maybe? Yeah, basically."

"Wow cool!" Max said. "Daddy, can I learn cultivation?"

Mr. Miller patted his son's head, "Let's go back first and discuss it with Mommy." He softly murmured. He walked away with his son.

"Wait- Mr. Estevan... Our whole family can't cultivate," Mr. Smith started to say, "Are you sure our son can cultivate?"

"Yes," Steven replied curtly.

"Okay," Mr. Smith asked his son softly, "Would you like to learn how to cultivate?"

"Yeah!" Jess said, running around the room. "It's cool!"

Mrs. Smith started to tear up.

"Mom, don't cry," Jess hugging her, confused at why his mom was crying. "You crying makes me sad." Jess started to tear up, too.

She and her son melodramatically cried for a while.

"Take care of my son well, protect him!" Mrs. Smith cried, waved her handkerchief around as if in a soap opera, dabbing her eyes with it a couple of times.

"..." said Mr. Smith.

"..." said Steven and Friends.

"Oh, that reminds me, we have to do a goodbye feast." Mrs. Smith started muttering, stopping in her tracks. "No, that won't do, we just had a feast yesterday. We don't have time to do ample preparations. We also need to do a feast for Mr. Estevan and his friends. Alright, we'll just treat yesterday's feast as Mr. Estevan and Friends' welcoming feast and the goodbye feast for all of them. Oh wait, but Mr. Estevan's friends never tasted the feast. What a pity. What to do? What to do? What to do?" Mrs. Smith started pacing around the room.

"..." said Mr. Smith

"..." said Steven and Friends.

"We'll be going to Max's house now," Olivia said, pulling them out of the awkward situation. "No feast necessary."

"Oh, but are you sure?" Mrs. Smith couldn't help but ask.

"Alright, Mrs-" Mrs. Smith hesitated.

"Olivia is fine. Goodbye! It was a pleasure meeting all of you."

. . .

They knocked on the door to Max's house.

Mr. Miller opened the door.

His eyes were... a bit teary?

"Welcome." Mr. Miller greeted them.

Steven and Friends stepped into the house.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Miller were teary-eyed and emotional, while Max blinked in confusion.

"Oh, Max!" Mrs. Miller cried out, hugging him.

Max was about to die from lack of oxygen.

"Mom..." Max struggled. "I can't breathe."

She released Max, then coughed.

"Oh right, sorry." She said apologetically. She then looked at Steven and Friends with a threatening glare. "Max has decided to go with all of you to the Academy. Please treat him well."

She said this while polishing her kitchen knife for some reason.

"We promise we'll treat your son well." Steven and Friends replied back.

"Alright, tomorrow, we'll arrange one big send-off," Mr. Miller cleared his throat, pulling his wife closer, for fear she might use the kitchen knife for purposes other than cooking. "For now, why don't you all stay for the night?"

"Sorry," Steven replied, "We're busy."

"Oh," Mr. Miller said.

"Goodbye Mr. Miller and Mrs. Miller." Lukas said.

"Goodbye!" Olivia said, "We'll take care of your child well."