“Every night, when you close your eyes and drift off to the Dream World, you see Him. Every morning, when your alarm clock rings and you regain consciousness into the Real World, you see Him.

“He does not have a body. He does not have a face. He does not have a soul. He is not anyone or anything, he simply is.

“And here at Dream HQ we call him Bob! Everyone give it up for our Dream Catcher of the Month!”

A dark substance fogged up the air at the front of the auditorium, an ominous silence following his appearance.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. “You rock, Bob!” a woman in the back called out.

“Thank you for helping our Nightmare Disorder research department!” a man in glasses agreed. “You’re helping out the people in the Real World so much!”

“We love you, Bob!” they shouted in unison.

Bob seemed to bend and separate into a smiley face.

“Awwww!” an elderly woman cried out. “You make us so happy too little Bobby Bob!”

The presenter on the dais cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to him. “Bob is just one of our many Dream Catchers. Former Dream Catchers of the Month include Jimmy, Gerald, and Bill Nye the Science Guy. We award this prestigious title to the most hardworking Dream Catcher, who has caught the most traumatic dreams and nightmares of our people down in the Real World. And remember, this kind of work is perfectly humane, after all, these beasts feast on nightmares.”

He turned to the screen behind him. “Bob here has traveled over the seven continents, yes, even Australia, to catch 10,000 of the worst dreams of humanity and forever exterminate them from the mind of any person in the Real World. His numbers are triple the previous record of nightmares caught in a month. Past catches include genocide, a giant Brazilian Wandering Spider devouring your small cat, and pooping out chinchillas. Let’s look at some of his catches, shall we?

“Remember to be civil, ladies and gentlemen. These may seem horrifying to us, but they are Bob’s favorite foods! Imagine: macaroni and cheese, caviar, filet mignon, crème brûlée…”

The crowd oohed and ahhed at the thought of their favorite meals.

He clicked a button and the first slide appeared.

The crowd gasped.

“Number one: running through a sunflower field with my daughters Emma and Ella.”

The presenter frowned. “Oh, uh, that’s odd. Normally, the dreams are a little more… traumatic.”

He shrugged it off. Bob was beaming with pride, so it must have been one minor mistake. He clicked onto the next slide. “Fostering three adorable tuxedo kittens.” He laughed nervously. The crowd fell silent. He coughed, hitting the remote and looking around for some help. “Something must have gone wrong in the processing machine. Uh…” He looked to Bob, who showed no signs of concern.

His supervisor in the crowd gave him a stern look and signaled him to keep going on with the presentation.

“Don’t worry, this is either a machine failure or someone’s idea of a practical joke.” He clicked through the presentation, but it kept getting worse. Every mosquito disappearing from the face of Earth. Getting proposed to by your high school sweetheart at the first place you met. Going on one last backpacking trip in France with your late father. Reuniting with your childhood friend after losing touch for twenty years.

The presenter scoffed, looking at Bob, who was now forming a heart. Could he… no. No. “It can’t be,” he breathed. “There’s no way…”

He looked to his supervisor in the crowd, getting redder and redder. Oh, no. He was going to lose his job now, wasn’t he? What was wrong with Bob? Why did no one notice his abnormal catches?

He knew why. They operated under the assumption that every Dream Catcher liked consuming the bad dreams, the gruesome ones, the devastating ones. But that wasn’t true at all, and Bob here was living proof.

His supervisor was making his way through the crowd now, definitely to shut down the failed presentation. The presenter’s breathing was heavy as he watched Bob, who seemed so innocent, so oblivious. He had no idea what he had done. What Dream HQ had done.

“Look at these dreams, Martin!” his supervisor would shout in his ear tomorrow morning. “Animals! Parents! Love! Gorgeous views of the world! All lost!”

But Martin was a changed man. As he watched them chain up Bob and take him back into his jar, about to screw the lid on and throw him in sleep medicine, the only thing that could kill Dream Catchers, he did something unimaginable.

He couldn’t take this anymore. He couldn’t watch them enslave a living, breathing organism, no different than any of them in the room: probably better than them. He had rationalized it in the past, telling himself Jimmy and Gerald and Bill Nye were monsters who enjoyed human suffering. But Bob changed everything. It shook everything he thought he knew, everything he was taught from a young age. Because Bob was just like him. He liked the same things as a human being. He took pleasure in the same things as a human being. He knew what love was. He knew what happiness was. Why should he suffer for that?

The presenter didn’t know what to believe now, just that this wasn’t right.

He was just one man. He couldn’t save the Dream Catchers. Dream HQ would get rid of him before that.

But he could still save someone.

He grabbed the open jar and threw Bob out the window. He would plummet for an eternity, until he finally reached the Real World. And then he’d be free.