The fire had completely died out, leaving only gray ash behind, which the wind stirred from time to time. The cold night air slipped under my hoodie, and my thoughts were still swirling: Beth's sad goodbye, Noah's quiet thanks, Justin's friendly pat on the shoulder. Too much for one evening. I stood up, stretched, and slowly started toward the Gophers' boys' cabin. My legs felt heavy, like wet earth, but at least the headache had eased a little. I stepped inside carefully—Owen was already snoring like a chainsaw, Noah was breathing softly under his book, Justin lay perfectly still as if posing for a model shoot, Trent hugged his guitar even in his sleep, and Cody let out a quiet snort. I lay down on my bunk, closed my eyes, and finally drifted off.
The dream grabbed me instantly, and this time it was longer and more detailed than any of the previous nights since coming back. Tom and Jerry were chasing each other in space, but it wasn't just a quick gag— it felt like a full-blown space adventure movie. Tom wore a bulky astronaut suit with a huge helmet, his tail still sticking out, firing a star blaster at Jerry, who zoomed around on a mini rocket, munching cheese and grinning inside a tiny helmet.
"Meow!" Tom shouted as he nearly slammed into an asteroid, correcting his course at the last second and continuing the chase around a floating space station. Jerry giggled and lured Tom toward the edge of a black hole—the cat slipped in, only to spiral back out from another galaxy, even angrier, now wielding a massive laser net.
I floated near a spaceship window in my own helmet, chuckling at their insanity. "Eh, you two never change…" I muttered, smiling even in my sleep.
Then something shifted.
Tom and Jerry collided inside a cloud of stardust, and from the glowing particles—like someone painting across the sky—letters slowly, beautifully formed. At first faint, then brighter and brighter: G W E N.
Her name hung there in the endless darkness of space, made of stars and neon light, glowing like celestial graffiti. The letters pulsed, almost breathing, tiny stars dancing around them like fireworks. Tom froze, his blaster slipping from his hand. Jerry stared too, even forgetting his cheese.
I just floated there, eyes wide, heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my chest. Warmth spread through me as I read her name, my face burning, my breath catching.
"Why… why her?" I whispered—but the dream gave no answer. The stars kept shining, Gwen's name burned into my mind forever. Tom and Jerry took off again, but all I could see was that name in space—and my own stupid, happy smile reflected in my helmet.
Meanwhile, in the girls' cabin on the other side of the camp, Gwen was also sleeping deeply—and her dream was just as long and vivid, like a slow, colorful film.
She walked through a dark but not frightening forest, everything bathed in shades of pink: the leaves were pastel rose, the ground soft with moss, moonlight filtering through in silver beams. A pink panther walked gracefully ahead of her, tail swaying as if guiding her along a secret path. The panther dragged a red ribbon behind it—long, silky, flowing, winding through the trees like a living trail marker. Gwen let out a small laugh—the panther moved so comically, tilting its head as if it knew it was being watched and didn't care.
"Where are you taking me?" Gwen asked softly, following it, her steps light on the cushioned ground.
The ribbon led her to a clearing where moonlight illuminated a dock. Trent stood there—shirtless by the water, moonlight glinting off his well-built muscles Gwen had already noticed during the challenges. He smiled at her, guitar in hand, gently strumming a slow, dreamlike melody that fit the scene perfectly. Gwen's heart jumped; her cheeks flushed, her breathing quickened. Trent's eyes were calm and inviting, as if saying, Come here. You're safe.
But the ribbon didn't stop.
It continued deeper into the forest, where the trees stood closer together and moonlight filtered through in broken patches. There was a hidden refuge—a small clearing wrapped in vines and flowers, like a secret garden. And there stood Ezekiel—also shirtless, his back marked with sexy scars, healed but still visible, like a story only a few knew. The prairie boy was muscular, hardened by work, wild, a little dangerous—broad shoulders, strong arms, the scars giving him a mysterious allure. Ezekiel looked at her and smiled—that shy but sincere smile Gwen had seen during the Awake-a-thon when they watched the stars together. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, and for a moment Gwen felt him step closer—not pushy, just there, quietly waiting.
Gwen stood between the two paths. The pink panther sat beside her, tail flicking, watching with curiosity. Trent at the dock—calm, familiar, artistic. Ezekiel in the forest—mysterious, new, full of secrets and scars. Gwen's heart raced, her face burned, her palms grew sweaty.
Which one do I go to? she wondered in her dream. The panther winked, as if saying, You decide—but hurry. Dreams don't last forever. Gwen took a step forward, but didn't know which direction—toward Trent or into the forest. The ribbon still rippled on the ground, waiting for her choice.
Morning came with Noah shaking my shoulder in the boys' cabin.
"Prairie boy, wake up. Chris is already yelling. If you don't come, Owen's gonna eat your breakfast too."
Owen grinned beside him, holding a bowl of oatmeal. "Morning, dude! You were hardcore last night, huh? You almost won us the Awake-a-thon!"
I rubbed my eyes tiredly. "Yeah, eh… still exhausted."
But the dream lingered—Gwen's name in space, the stars, the pounding heart. Outside on the path, I saw Gwen coming from the girls' cabin, her cheeks lightly flushed, eyes sleepy but shining. She smiled at me, a little shy.
"Good morning, Zeke. I had a weird dream… really weird. But… it was good."
"Me too," I said quietly, feeling my heart jump again, like the dream was still going.
Chris's voice blared across camp:
"Breakfast, Gophers! And today—dodgebrawl! Best of five, no mercy!"
I knew what was coming.
And I knew that today, I could change how things ended—on the court, and maybe beyond it too.