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The nightmares started after the accident.
Oliver never really remembered his dreams before then, really — they were always a blurry mist by the time he fully woke up. But now, even though he barely managed to sleep in that hospital chair, they were too vivid to forget. The nightmare was always the same, anyway. He was in a car with people he didn't recognize, and he was in the passenger seat. There was something familiar about the driver, about the whole thing, really — devastatingly familiar once the car crashed. Oliver managed to hear his own spine fracture and his skull crack. It hurt. It hurt. And every time he woke up, with the phantom feeling of blood still dripping down his face, all he could think was that this was how his brother had felt. This was what he had done to his brother. It made sense that his mind kept putting Oliver in his place, reminding him of the pain he'd inflicted.
But sometimes, he would dream, instead. His dreams would vary, and he couldn't remember them as clearly (not that he deserved to). They usually left him feeling warm and nostalgic for a different time. A different Oliver, even.
Those dreams didn't come often. He usually avoided sleep when he could. Not like it really mattered if he was experiencing a waking nightmare or a sleeping one, but he might as well avoid the one where he could feel his ribs tear through his lungs. If only he could avoid this one, too. If only he could change it.
(Sometimes, on the harder days, he was glad to fall asleep to that nightmare. Sometimes, on the harder days, he wished that the nightmare was real. The blood dripped down his face, and through the hurt and the panic, there was a slight relief that everything was over. But he always woke up and the blood was only on his hands.)
Sleep deprivation made things blurry. Harder to keep track of. It made him desperate for either nightmare to stop, clutching a notebook and pen like a lifeline for just a sliver of control. Wake up. Cease to exist. Wake up. Cease to exist. Wake up.
"Oliver?"
Benjamin looked familiar, in more ways than one. It was easy to ignore in favor of experiments and tests. It was even easier to ignore when they were suddenly second graders. Oliver was seven years old again. This wasn't waking up or ceasing to exist, but it meant that maybe they could change things — both him and Benjamin. Maybe they could change both of the nightmares with their newfound powers. Maybe they could fix everything.
Benjamin refused, clutching a crayon and paper like a lifeline for just a sliver of control. Go to sleep. Time travel. Go to sleep. Time travel. Go to sleep.
"We're dreaming."
It felt like a rational conclusion. They shared a mind, somehow, and dreamed up a lifetime of families and left turns. They could still change things, but Benjamin still wanted to go back, and they ended up at their substitute teacher's house with dreadful coffee and useful exposition.
Oliver was seven years old. Sleep deprivation still made things blurry. Hard to keep track of. So when Mrs. Hills said that dreams were real and that apples meant control, Oliver didn't know what to make of what was in his mind and in his pocket. It was easy to ignore in favor of lucid training and Benjamin's adventures. It was harder to ignore when he ended up back at that hospital chair, in one of his two nightmares, with the uneasy, rhythmic sound of heart monitors and ventilators.
For the first time in a long time, Oliver shut his eyes willingly and tried to sleep, trying to go back to a different time and a different Oliver. For the first time in a long time, it worked, and he was back at Mrs. Hills’ house.
It wasn't until Benny said that it was over, until they had no teacher to answer their questions about dreams and memories, that Oliver had the nightmare again.
He wanted to get away from the antiseptic burning his nose and hurting his head (although maybe that was all the oversleeping), and through the drowsiness he forced himself to shut his eyes tightly. The sound of a heart monitor was replaced by music, something light and fun that he was singing along to despite not knowing the lyrics, as sunlight beamed through the windshield. Oliver blinked blearily from the passenger seat, glancing over at the driver. Familiar, from his black sweater to the slight scratch on the bridge of his nose. Benjamin was humming along to the song. Oliver dared a glance at the rearview mirror, unable to make out who was in the back. The voices sounded distorted, unrecognizable, as if there was a layer of static muddling his brain. It sounded like the ventilator. He could hear voices, and some laughter, and then his spine.
"Can I sleep over tonight?"
Oliver didn't know what to make of any of it, yet. He wasn't sure he wanted to. What he did know was that Benny was his friend. Despite everything, Oliver was pretty sure that he was Benny's friend, too.
And they made the universe, apparently. That was about as real as friendships could get, Oliver figured.
They could still change things. Oliver thought of car crashes. He thought of prolonging the inevitable. But Benny turned to look at him, the way that he never did when they were in the car, and Oliver knew that he had to nod.
Eventually, his brother woke up. Eventually, Benny caught up. Eventually, Oliver had friends (plural!). Eventually, things changed. His dreams of a different time were now with the same Oliver, and he was okay with that, with the careless enjoyment that came from being a kid again.
One time, he invited Quinn and Jasper to jump into his brain. Oliver figured it would be funny to surprise Benny with their friends (plural!) in their other reality, now that they were well into middle school. They all snickered about it — Quinn and Oliver, mainly, with Jasper just smiling along — as the two stretched their hands towards him. Oliver felt the couch just hit the side of his face as he opened his eyes to a sunny park. Benny was there, sitting on the rusty swing set and squinting up at the clouds, pointing out the one that was shaped like Gorgoblox, kind of. Oliver grinned widely, despite the braces that he hated, and looked around. It was just the two of them.
"Do you know you're dreaming?"
Oliver felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, looking around for another moment, but he shook it off. "Oh. Yeah."
Benny looked at him strangely, waiting for Oliver to elaborate on his odd reaction. He didn't. Benjamin just shrugged and caught him up on what he'd missed that day, the two still pointing out various shapes with increasing complexity.
Oliver woke up, the crease of the couch printed on his cheek, and spotted Quinn and Jasper sitting on the floor. They were whispering, Jasper wide-eyed while Quinn squeezed his shoulders in a way that was either grounding or panicked.
"Are you guys okay?"
They both turned to look at him, some kind of relief washing over them both. Jasper exhaled shakily. "Yeah, yeah, just. Yeah. You guys okay?"
Oliver nodded tentatively. He wasn't sure what had happened, or what Jasper meant, or why they didn't end up jumping in with him, but it was clear that they were both a bit rattled. Oliver tactfully chose to pull a page from Jasper's book and just roll with it. "Uh, yeah. Benny and I are all good."
So Oliver continued waking up and living the dream. It was only gradually that the nightmare came back, and even then, it took him far too long to realize what it truly meant.
The first time he had that nightmare again, he glanced at the rearview mirror. There was no ventilator anymore, and nothing to blur out the people in the backseat. Quinn and Jasper laughed while Benjamin ranted, squeezing the steering wheel with white knuckles. There was some playful argument happening that Oliver couldn't find it in himself to focus on. All he could truly notice this time around was the apple he was clutching in his hands.
Oh.
What else are memories if not dreams themselves?
Oh.
All of time already existed. Beginning, middle, and end. All of them Oliver had set in motion and chosen not to change.
He recognized everyone in the car, now. In freshman year, an apple in Oliver's hand, Benny showed him a new song, something light and fun. Oliver played it on loop that night until he knew every word by heart. Every time he'd have that nightmare again, unable to process any of the conversations or the view, all he could focus on was the apple in his hand. He didn't know why he never bit into it, to avoid the next part. It seemed that every time, by the time he thought about it, there was already a popped tire and a tree and pain and pain and pain.
Wake up.
"Hey, Benny?"
"Hm?" He didn't correct the nickname anymore. Oliver felt something in his chest squeeze, like ribs through lungs.
"Do you know you're dreaming?"
Benjamin smiled — that closed lip smile that twitched like his cheeks were still trying to figure out that they were allowed to do that. "Yup." His eyebrows furrowed slightly then, and Oliver could see the couple gray hairs that wisped up at his temples. He remembered the salt and pepper that Benny's hair became by the time they were playing bingo. They do grow old together, Oliver reminded himself. At least once. "Are you okay?"
Oliver was terrified. Oliver knew what it was like to be in the driver and the passenger seat. Benjamin would know what it was like to take a left turn, and Oliver couldn't change that for him. For either of them. For the first time, Oliver finally understood why his brother didn't blame him.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." His voice cracked in a way that made Benjamin's eyebrows crease even further. That line would become a faint but permanent wrinkle, later. "I just—" He took a deep breath, past the feeling of punctured lungs and dripping blood, reaching for the sunset and the laughter of his friends. "I'm just... realizing it wasn't my fault. Or accepting it, I guess."
Benjamin's expression softened, something fond settling in his eyes. Oliver could only hope that later, after, Benjamin would realize the same thing, too.
He didn't have the nightmare again. The years passed. While he was awake, Oliver hit his mid-thirties surrounded by family and friends. While he was asleep, he got his high school diploma. He didn't have his brother here, but he had Benny, and that made him grin more than anything.
It was the summer before college. Oliver hadn't made any plans for either of those, yet. It wasn't until Benjamin knocked on his door with a grin on his face (he smiled easier, here) and keys in hand that Oliver realized he wouldn't have to.
Running from the truth doesn't make it go away. It just prolongs the inevitable.
"You taking me for a joyride?"
Oliver never bothered learning how to drive, in his dreams. Benjamin took the role of designated driver for them, as an inverse of their other reality. He'd passed his test with flying colors and always followed the road rules to a tee. He never took his eyes off the road, at least not when Oliver was in the car with him. He'd known that was important for him. He didn't know that it wouldn't matter.
Benjamin was still grinning. "Figured we could get out of the house. Enjoy our youth."
"No joint pain yet," Oliver teased, and Benjamin rolled his eyes. "Just give me a sec."
He went back inside to say goodbye to his moms, hugging them tighter than he'd like to admit. At least he didn't have a brother here. And because Oliver's sense of humor never waned even in the worst of circumstances, he shouted out, "I call shotgun!"
They ended up driving by the coast, music blaring in the sunset. Oliver sang his lungs out, gasping in every breath while he still could. Benjamin looked amused, and so Oliver sang even louder.
"Having a good time?"
"I'm living the dream, Benny."
Benjamin shook his head fondly at his stupid joke, opening his mouth to reply when the weight of the car shifted. Benjamin flinched and swore loudly as Oliver glanced at the rearview mirror expectantly. Quinn and Jasper put down their outstretched hands, a laugh on their lips before they took in their surroundings, vaguely puzzled.
"Well," Jasper started, "this isn't St. James Middle School."
"They grow up so fast," Quinn said wistfully, smirking as Benjamin started swearing again.
"Jasper Christ, guys! You scared the shit out of me!" His hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline for just a sliver of control. "Do you realize how dangerous that was!?"
Jasper raised his shoulders apologetically. "Uh, I think we might've accidentally jumped too far. Sorry, Benji."
"Dream jumping is tricky, Benjamin," Quinn added, "You know that already."
"Still!" He forced himself to take a deep breath and kept his eyes on the road. "You okay, Oliver?"
He was in a car with his closest friends, and it felt more like a memory than a dream. He knew what was coming, but he didn't see it. He could only see the sunset.
"Yeah, Benny. I'm okay."
His shoulders released some of the tension in them (Benjamin was always a little tense, no matter where they were) and he tossed his phone towards the backseat. "Might as well put in song requests, if you're here."
Music played as they all talked, the view stunning through the car windows. There was something warm and nostalgic that settled in the air around him. As the song came on, something light and fun that Oliver started singing to, Benny hummed along next to him, the two in the back chatting softly. Benjamin's eyes were still firmly on the road, but Oliver knew that he was looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled. Oliver smiled back and, almost instinctively, shook his head.
They had absolutely no idea. For Oliver, it was devastatingly familiar.
He thought about lifting up the apple and biting into it. He was afraid. And for the second time in his life, the car crashed.
Oliver woke up from the nightmare for the last time. He was on the tail end of desperate gasps and blood loss, the excruciating pain still vivid in his mind. His hands clutched the couch, Benjamin’s couch, and tried to remind his lungs that they could breathe. It was just a dream, a part of his brain chimed in, and Oliver wanted to laugh at how unbelievably unhelpful that thought was. He pressed a hand to his head, flinching despite there being no injury. Oliver had only just managed to approach something resembling normal when he heard a strangled shout from Benjamin’s bedroom.
His body ached as he shot up and ran to the door, and he had to remind himself that it was because he kept falling asleep on the couch despite his age, not because—
Benjamin was already getting out of bed, tears streaming down his face as his eyes searched the room desperately. The second they landed on Oliver, he pulled him into a hug so tight that he almost couldn’t breathe again. Oliver couldn’t care less, clutching him like a lifeline even though there was nothing left that he could control. They ended up on the floor somehow, Benjamin’s hand a vice grip on the back of his coat as his shoulders shook violently. Oliver found himself talking because he was never good at shutting up, even when he’d been bleeding out and concussed, forcing his jaw and tongue to move despite the pain to say: “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
All that Benjamin could manage with his face buried against Oliver’s neck was sputtering sobs. They stayed there for a long time, enough for Oliver’s joints to ache (because of his age, he reminded himself). Eventually, Benjamin was able to speak somewhat coherently, his voice strained. “I’m so sorry, I’m so—”
“It’s not your fault,” Oliver said, firm despite the wobble in his voice. “It’s not your fault, Benny.”
He felt Benjamin shaking his head vehemently against him. “I was—”
“It was an accident.” Oliver knew the rest of that sentence like the back of his hand, the very same thought that haunted him every waking moment that his brother didn’t wake up. He was never good at keeping still, and his hands end up tangled in Benjamin’s hair and sweater. “I know it was an accident. Trust me, Benny, I know.”
It didn’t look like Benjamin could argue against that, even though Oliver felt him open and close his mouth in protest a few times. It took another long while for them to separate from their bone crushing (Oliver immediately regretted that word choice) hug. Benjamin’s eyes were red and absolutely miserable, and Oliver’s mouth opened before he could think. “I knew.”
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, that crease that’s been slowly leaving its mark deepening. Oliver explained, in broad strokes, nightmares and memories and connecting dots. Benjamin’s expression shifted throughout, from upset to horrified to devastated. It finally settled on the same look he had when Oliver first revealed he had the apple. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Oliver's sense of humor never waned even in the worst of circumstances. “It was hardly a good icebreaker.”
Benjamin was not amused. Too soon. “Oliver.”
“C’mon, Benny.” With a shaky inhale, he attempted (poorly) to smile. “I mean, I barely knew what it meant and by the time I did…” He shrugged. “Knowing wouldn’t have changed anything. You know that.”
Benjamin’s heart seemed to break at that. “Why did you get in the car if you knew?”
He could say that he didn’t want to break the universe, just like they’d agreed in that white space all those years ago. That he couldn’t help it, that it was like autopilot. That he had to.
(Somewhere deep deep down, a little voice said, I think this is what I deserve.)
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Benjamin’s heart seemed to break even more. “We might be lucids, but we’re still just people, y’know? No one lives forever. It had to happen eventually.”
It was quiet, for a moment. Benjamin’s eyes shone in the early morning light, shaking his head softly. “Not now. Not like this. It’s not fair.”
Oliver’s eyesight blurred. His lips pulled into a tight smile as he mirrored Benjamin’s movement. “No. It’s not.”
“It’s not fair,” he repeated, his voice breaking. Oliver swallowed and, with hands shakier than he’d realized, he pressed Benjamin’s palm to his chest.
“I’m still here.” Oliver felt that they both needed the reminder. “You feel that, right? I’m still here.”
He saw the way Benjamin’s lip trembled, but despite the pain in his expression, he nodded. His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re still here.”
“Yeah.” Oliver smiled again, twitchy in a way that reminded him of Benjamin's smile. “Not that easy to get rid of me, Benny. I’m pretty clingy.”
He managed to pull a short laugh out of Benjamin with that somehow, however painful it sounded. For Oliver, it was more than good enough.
After the accident, the nightmares stopped. Oliver figured that the dreams would stop, too — that it would like it had been before everything, a blurry mist of nothingness. It was still Benjamin’s reality, still the world that he (reluctantly) woke up to, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was still Oliver’s dreamscape.
What else are memories if not dreams themselves?
Oliver dreamed of his life. That one, at least. Reliving different memories every night and waking up with a warm nostalgia in his mind. It was bittersweet, sometimes. He didn’t feel lucid anymore, felt like he was missing a life despite the one he had when he was awake. Quinn understood — being a memory himself, his dreamscape was just a rolodex of his own experiences, so it was somewhat similar. They talked about it sometimes, helping Oliver get used to it.
(Quinn and Jasper cried too, once they found out. They’d both been there, in the car, but the second the tire popped they’d been thrown out of Oliver’s mind. At the time, the two had only seen him wake up from the couch a couple minutes later, without any indication that something terrible had happened. Oliver said that it was like the world itself was trying to prevent spoilers. Only Quinn chuckled at that joke — Oliver figured that if anyone was used to having a strange relationship with being dead, it would be him.)
Benjamin would go to sleep and tell Oliver about his day, keeping him updated on how time passed. He’d tell him about how his moms were doing, about how college was driving him insane this second time around (he’d taken a gap year, after everything). A lot of times, Benjamin wanted to stay asleep, to be able to live and relive and never have to wake up, just like when it all began. A lot of times, Oliver would have to remind him to wake up, just like when it all began. He supposed that if all of time already existed, it made sense that things like that would circle back. But through it all, life kept passing by, without nightmares or sleep deprivation to make it harder to keep track of it. Eventually, Benjamin let himself wake up, whenever he had to. Eventually, Oliver was able to stand in the rain again. Eventually, they caught up to one of their first ever dream jumps, the years coming much more easily when they stopped running away from them. They both sat on the veranda, looking over the distant ocean as they reaped the rewards of Oliver’s triumph, eating fruit in comfortable silence.
“Was it better to know?”
Oliver glanced over at Benjamin, his hair now fully overtaken in salt and pepper. He had that wrinkle between his eyebrows, but he also had some laugh lines. Oliver felt a sense of pride in the knowledge that he’d helped put those there. He decided to keep adding to his work.
“Well, we both knew that I was going to be Bingo Boy.”
Benjamin rolled his eyes at him, exasperated and fond as always. “Oliver.”
Oliver finished laughing at his own joke, settling into an easy smile. “I don’t know,” he admitted again. The sun was setting softly. “I think it’s all the same, in the end.”
“And it’s all just memories?” he asked, turning the apple in his hands. “After, I mean.”
Even after all these years, Benjamin had never been great at subtlety. It wasn’t Oliver’s strong suit, either. He was thinking about this for a reason. Benjamin kept going, squinting against the sunlight. “All of time already exists, so it’s not like it would just… end, right? Time is technically supposed to be infinite. If it stopped existing, that would probably lead to a paradox, and the implications of that—”
“Benny,” he interrupted, because after all these years, his best friend still had the habit of getting stuck in his own head.
Benjamin looked at him for a moment, mouth still open from his building spiral, before hesitantly pursing his lips. Oliver grinned, plucking a grape from the basket and popping it in his mouth while they both looked out at the sunset.
“I don’t get any nightmares, y’know,” Oliver told him. “Only dreams.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Benjamin nod softly, a twitching smile on his lips. Oliver felt his mouth pull into a soft smile as he dozed off.
This time, it didn’t hurt.