Chapter Text
He found a note on his desk. A simple, harmless, yellow sticky note with the small message of "have a nice day :)" scrawled on it in pen. Honestly, it wasn't very out of place in the sea of reminders that Dream wrote for himself. The only thing off about it was that he had no memory of writing it. He had no idea where it had come from, even though the handwriting looked vaguely like his own. He shrugged it off, crumpled it and tossed it into the trash, and continued his day.
The next day, he found a second note. It was a little weirder, this time placed directly on his laptop. "How was your day?" A question, something clearly expecting some kind of response. He had hesitated before throwing this one away too, thinking deeply and trying to remember writing it. He couldn't, and so he crumpled the note and tossed this one in the trash too.
The third day the note was exactly the same as the day before. Same placement, same writing, same question. Dream laughed nervously, wondering what the fuck was going on. He tossed the note in the trash, assuming that maybe he had forgotten to do that the day before, but realised quickly that wasn't the case when he was an identical sticky note already in his trash. He hesitantly opened Discord, going to one of his group chats with friends, and typing out a quick message:
Dream (8:07 am)
found a sticky note on my desk I don't remember writing lol
third one this week
He didn't get any real replies, just the expected "are you ok?" and "lol ur memory sux" from his friends. He laughed, rolling his eyes. It didn't help solve the mystery, but it made him feel a little better.
The fourth day, it wasn't just a sticky note. A small cardboard box sat on his with a little sticky note attached to it. "I got this for you, enjoy! :)" The note said. Dream did not enjoy it. In fact, he almost called the police, but decided against it. The contents of the box showed a small pin, something cheap you would usually find at one of those twisting gacha machines. He tried his best to ignore it all day, but it grinned up at him from the corner of his desk. Shortly before sleeping that night, he quickly scribbled down a note. "Who are you? Why are you writing to me? How are you writing to me?"
The fifth day, the sticky note was attached to his own from the night before. "Thank you for replying! Did you like the pin? I thought you would!" Whoever this asshole was, they were intentionally dodging his questions.
He told Sapnap about the note, and the box, and the fact that it had been 5 days.
"It feels like someone's in my house," he said chuckling nervously. "Fucking with my stuff and leaving notes."
"Dude, take a deep breath." Sapnap said, noting the panic in his friend's voice. "This is weird as fuck, but I really doubt it's somehow a stalker getting into your house. Have you called the cops?" Dream told him he hadn't, and Sapnap told him he should consider it. The topic changed after that, an intentional push from Sapnap to help cheer up his friend.
The sixth day, he called the cops. The note that morning had said "Did you like the pin?" Dream dug the notes out of his trash, put them all in an envelope along with the pin, and drove to the station.
They didn't believe him.
They asked for a handwriting sample, and after sending him to wait in the sitting room for a few hours, they came back and gently told him that they didn't appreciate the prank, and that if anything serious came up he should tell them. One officer did kindly suggest checking the carbon monoxide levels in his home, which was the best advice Dream had gotten so far. He sat in the parking lot of the station, researching the effects of carbon monoxide on his phone.
On his way home, he stopped and got a carbon monoxide alarm for his room.
The seventh day, the carbon monoxide alarm came up clean, and the sticky note attached to it simply said "don't do that again, please."
The eight day, sticky note had a sketchy cartoon drawing of a cat on it, with the word "Patches" under it. Despite his fear, he laughed a little.
"Cute drawing. Who are you?" He left the note out.
The ninth day, the sticky note just said "thanks!" and he came to two realisations. One: the person who was leaving sticky notes would not be answering any of his important questions, and two: he was incredibly tired. Dream would usually fall asleep between 11pm and 12am, but now he found his memories cutting off for the night closer to 9pm or even 8pm. He laughed in a VC to his friends about it, about the mystery person who kept leaving him notes in his own handwriting.
"They drew Patches? That's kinda cute. You should get them crayons!" George said teasingly. Dream and Sapnap laughed.
"Maybe!" Dream said, but he was finding it hard to fully stay awake and in the conversation. He was feeling a little bit floaty at 7pm, early but not too unusual. "I'm probably going to turn in, actually."
"So early?" Sapnap piped in. "Dude this is like... really early, even for you. Are you sure you're ok?" Dream hummed an affirmation.
"I'm fine, this is just what happens when you get old, Sapnap!" They bickered back and forth a little more, teasing each other about being old, before Dream finally closed out and curled up in bed.
The tenth day we woke up to a brand new pack of 24 Crayons, still wrapped in plastic with a receipt resting innocently under it. The sticky note attached to it said, "Sorry for using your money, I thought they would be nice to have."
Dream panicked when he saw the note and the crayons. Someone leaving notes? That was one thing. Someone using his money? There was no way that wasn't illegal. He got into his car, originally intending to go to the police station, but opting instead to go to the nearest Walmart to buy a safe and security camera. Halfway through his drive, he noticed how low his gas tank was. He was sure he had filled it just the week before, and he hadn't driven anywhere but the grocery store and the police station, but it's possible he just didn't fill it completely. He stopped at the gas station too.
He set up the camera in his room, aiming it at his desk, and put his wallet in the safe before hiding that under the bed.
On day eleven the safe was in the middle of the room, wide open. The camera had been utterly destroyed.
On day twelve, a brand new camera and safe sat in the middle of the room, the sticky note attached only said "sorry about yesterday :("
On day thirteen, Dream recorded a video with his friends. Somehow he was able to stay up late, losing time chatting with Bad and Sapnap way through the night and into the morning. He fell asleep, and when he woke again at 5pm that evening, the note attached to his monitor said "You should get more sleep."
On day fourteen, Sapnap called him. "How's your sticky note bandit problem?" He joked good-naturedly.
Dream chuckled awkwardly, and told him that they continued to be an issue. He didn't mention the crayons, or the safe and camera, or the gas. They talked about other things, and then hung up.
.
After heading to the kitchen, Dream found food he couldn't remember making sitting in his fridge. It was delicious, though.
On day fifteen, there was a sticky note on his fridge rather than his desk. He had thought he hadn't gotten one, but found it when he went to the kitchen to get breakfast. It was a simple note, something he would have easily mistaken for one of his own if it hadn't been for the events of the past two weeks. "You need more milk" was all it said.
Dream went to the store and bought the milk, only pausing his journey to refill his gas tank for the second time that week.
Days sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen were uneventful, and Dream let himself hope that it was over.
He sent out a text into the discord.
Dream (6:37 pm)
No sticky notes the past few days!
Seems I'm free of the curse >:D
Sapnap sent a celebratory meme, and the conversation moved on.
On day twenty, Dream woke up somewhere else. More specifically, he woke up in the Walmart near his home. It felt similar to waking up, but somehow felt longer. More stretched out. Awareness came back in pieces. One moment, he had been sleeping in his bed, hanging up on a call with Sapnap and Bad and curling up under his cover, and now he was waking up slowly to the cold air of the ice cream aisle, to the scratchy plastic of the shopping cart’s handle, to the gentle tapping of his sneakers across the linoleum.
He stopped, blinked, and realised fully where he was. Somehow, panic wasn't setting in yet. He still felt hazy, like this was a lucid dream of some sort. Things were still coming back to him, like the paper he held in his hand and the food items that were already left in the cart.
He leaned over the handle of the cart to catch his balance and to take a breath. The fog was lifting, and panic was slowly starting to set in. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Why was he here? Dream straightened, turning and opening his mouth to call out to somebody— anybody— before suddenly the fog came down tenfold upon his brain.
On day twenty one, Dream woke up at home again. His fridge fully stocked from a recent trip to the store.
In a panic, Dream called Bad who was the only one online at the moment. Panic was hitting him full force, and tears were springing to his eyes as Bad picked up.
"Dream? What's wrong?"
A sob erupted from Dream's throat, and he cried out to his friend. "I don't know what happening, but notes and food keep showing up in my house, and last night I woke up in Walmart and then woke up at home again." He was able to get the basics of the situation out between his gasps and sobs.
"Woah, woah. Dream, take a deep breath. Can you start from the beginning and explain everything slowly?"
Dream sniffled and started quietly started explaining to Bad what had happened, how the notes had began appearing, how someone had been buying things with his money, how someone had been driving his car and putting things in his fridge. He explained the brief moment in the store, and the new food in his fridge.
"It sounds really scary," Bad said comfortingly. "Are you safe?" Dream assured him that he was. "Did you go to the police about this?" Dream told him that he did, and how the police had brushed him off. "What about the hospital?" That... Dream hadn't done that. He had been too afraid of them finding anything, of losing days to medical examinations. He still had his youtube channel and the SMP to take care of.
He and Bad chatted, Bad mostly giving reassurances and suggesting his friend go to the doctors. "Not yet," Dream said. "If it gets worse, I'll go. I'm just rattled."
He hung up, saying goodbye to his friend, and curled up in bed. He let himself wallow for a few more moments, before returning to his daily work.
On day twenty two, the sticky note just said "Sorry about the grocery store." They knew. Whoever this was, they knew what they were doing. Rage filled Dream, and he wrote an angry note back.
"Fuck you. Leave me alone. I don't like you and I don't like your notes. Please leave me alone."
On day twenty three, nothing happened. No notes, no new foods, nothing. He let himself breathe a sigh of relief.
On day twenty four, he woke up to a note that simply said "Sorry." He sighed, there was no way. No way he would feel guilty about cursing out the person who had been sending him anonymous notes and letters and using his money. He didn't respond that night, though. He didn't have the energy to write back.
On day twenty five and twenty six, there was no note. No word, and for some reason Dream couldn't help but worry.
"I'm sorry, that was harsh. I'm just scared, and I wish you would tell me who you are."
The silence continued a few more days before Dream got a reply. A little yellow sticky attached to his desk.
"I'm a friend."
Well, that wasn't ominous at all. Dream ran a hand down his face, putting the sticky note in his new designated envelope. He paused, he wasn't sure what this 'friend' knew, or what they would say, but he decided anyway. That night, before sleeping, he wrote down a note on a little green sticky and stuck it on his desk.
"Hello, I'm Dream."
Somehow it felt like the right thing to do.