An incessant, bothersome sound pulls me away from deep slumber. It takes me two seconds to recognize it as knocking, the thought of being woken up even further urging me to pull the thick comforter covering my body over my head. Last night's dream is already beginning to fade from memory, but I try to grapple whatever fragments are left in my mind, desperate to chase the enchantment of my nightly imagination. Or, you know, make out with imaginary dudes under the rain. Same thing.

Unfortunately for me, it seems like fate has a plethora of interruptions in store.

The comforter is hastily pulled away from my body, leaving me exposed to the cold air. It's too early in the morning to do absolutely anything, if the hairs standing on my arms tell me anything. Only then do I realize that I don't own a comforter, and have never experienced owning anything other than an off-brand blanket from my grandma.

My eyes blink open in surprise, my exhaustion melting away to give room for confusion. What's even more baffling than the additional bedroom amenities are the number of maids running around in my— no, a stranger's bedroom. Everything inside is endearingly pink and looks terrifyingly expensive.

I'm still dreaming. I am.

"Young miss, what's on with you? You're usually up by the first knock." The grumpiest looking maid, a face I have never seen before, huffs. Her fatigue is evident in her tired eyes, her crossed arms, her wrinkled forehead, and if the situation were any less weirder, I would've asked her if she was okay.

"I— dream." I try to give her the most comprehensive response I can muster up. Which is unfortunately just two syllables meant to mean 'I don't want to wake up.'

She gives me no vocal reply, only snapping her fingers twice to call the attention of the other maids. Their synchrony is terrifying as they line up behind the grumpiest maid, possibly the head maid, and it's even scarier when I'm shoved into a bathroom larger than most rooms I've been in in my entire life. The air smells luxurious, not to mention the countless bottles decorating the bathroom counters.

"What? What? Why am I here—"

The large mirror on the wall answers for me. As much as the bedroom and the bathroom aren't mine, the face I wear isn't mine as well, that includes the fingers I use to poke at its flawless complexion. Nothing I've seen so far is mine. Which can only mean...

I watch myself, or whoever I've swapped bodies with, take a moment to process the situation, eyes blank and wide, mouth agape.

"Oh!" I yelp after what feels like an eternity, awkward laughter stumbling from my lips. "Classic. A bit unoriginal for a dream, but it's a fun concept."

I try walking out of the extravagant bathroom in favor of exploring whatever peculiarities the dream has in store, but I'm only met with the angered scoldings of the maid. It works effectively because I run back almost immediately after opening the door.

Looking around, I sigh, another problem arises. The need to use the toilet boils to the surface, but I do my best to ignore it.

"Haha, no way. I know what that means when I wake up."

I shrug and approach the bathtub, the colorful soaps surrounding it practically inviting me to use all of them at once. I smirk, "Might as well enjoy what I'm given."