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Chapter - 153
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 18:17:41 +0000 UTC[Title : DreamState Immersion]
….
Hollywood Hills – Regal’s Residence – 2:47 a.m.
….
After the little talk with Stephen, Regal decided to get back to his work.
…that is before pulling something behind.
….and today? For the first time in weeks, Regal slept in a bed.
A proper one.
Not a couch, not a chair in a dark corner of the studio, not his office desk with a scarf as a pillow - but his actual room, with its neatly made sheets, blackout curtains, and a faint scent of lavender from the diffuser Gwen insisted on setting up.
The day had been long. Costumes. Camera checks. Alfred Molina’s test shoot.
Regal barely remembered walking from the editing suite to his room.
He collapsed on the mattress, the script pages still open on the side table, his glasses resting unevenly on a hardcover.
And yet... even as his body drifted into sleep, his mind didn’t follow.
It floated.
Hung between thoughts.
And then something strange happened.
….
At - 03:02 a.m.
….
The first thing Regal felt was clarity. Too much clarity.
This wasn’t dreaming. This wasn’t even lucid dreaming. This was… awareness. He could feel every breath, every heartbeat. And yet he wasn’t lying in bed anymore.
The air was cool. Not air-conditioned, but open. Real wind.
Footsteps echoed beside him. Laughter. A loud voice shouting. "All first years, this way!"
A kid ran through him. Regal blinked - startled. The boy had messy hair, round glasses, and eyes wide with awe.
Regal turned.
He was standing at Platform 9¾.
The train to Hogwarts hissed beside him, red and gold, its windows steaming. Families hugged their children.
Owls hooted in cages.
A woman with kind eyes leaned down to adjust a scarf around a young girl’s neck.
Everything looked and felt... real.
Too real.
Then it shifted.
Glass Between Worlds
A sudden blink - like the world slipped sideways.
Now Regal stood inside a reptile enclosure.
A boy, no older than eleven, pressed his palm to the glass between himself and a long, coiled Burmese python.
“Can you hear me?” The boy whispered.
The snake nodded.
Regal staggered backward - not from fear, but from the strange, gut-deep ache that hit him in that moment.
An invisible punch. Sadness. Isolation. A lifetime of being ignored, dismissed, unloved.
Harry.
It wasn’t just Harry’s view Regal was watching.
It was what Harry felt.
The Corridor of Whispers
Another blink.
Stone walls. Cold torches.
The Hogwarts corridors were darker now. Regal’s breath hitched as he turned to see a line of students walking past him. His chest tightened.
He heard voices - some his, some not. A girl calling out “It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosAH!” A boy yelling. “Troll! In the dungeon!”
Regal spun.
It wasn’t linear. It wasn’t chronological.
Every few seconds he was in another moment-
Harry’s first Quidditch match - the rush of wind, the thrill of flight, the terror of falling.
The Sorting Hat yelling.
“Gryffindor!”
While Harry’s heart pounded with confusion.
Ron’s trembling hand as he faced the chessboard battlefield.
Hermione, hiding tears behind a book in the library.
Each shift brought with it a new emotional weight.
Fear. Excitement. Shame. Hope. Loneliness. Joy.
They came too fast, and too sharp.
Regal couldn’t steady himself. Couldn’t separate what was his from what belonged to the story.
His mind blurred. The emotions didn’t just flood him. It’s as if they belonged to him from the start.
He stumbled backward into a great hall glowing with candlelight - and in the blink of an eye, he was standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, watching Harry look at a family he never got to know.
Regal’s throat closed.
Then-
Black.
….
03:44 a.m.
….
Regal jolted awake, the cool air brushing over his skin softly like a contrast he couldn't feel. He was lying in bed, but the sheets were soaked with sweat.
His breathing was uneven. His chest rose and fell like he had run a mile barefoot.
He looked down at his hand. It trembled.
A tear ran down his left cheek.
Hot. Fresh. Real.
But his right eye was dry.
Not empty - happy.
A strange smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
One half of him wanted to scream.
The other felt... free.
As if he had just lived… someone else’s life.
Across the bed, Gwendolyn stirred.
She blinked through the dark, squinting at his silhouette.
“Regal?” She whispered. Then louder. “Regal?”
She sat up quickly and touched his cheek. “Hey - Regal, talk to me. You are burning up.”
But he didn’t respond. His gaze was far away. Like he was still caught somewhere between the corridors and the dreams.
Worried now, Gwen grabbed her phone off the nightstand and turned on the flashlight.
She cupped his face gently. “Regal… come on…”
Her voice cracked a little.
Then immediately she grabbed the transmitter beside the lamp, and called - urgently.
“Rock!”
….
03:46 a.m. - Rock’s Awakening
….
Down the hall, in the security suite, Rock lay in bed.
His eyes opened instantly.
No transition. No grogginess.
Just on.
[“Rock! Hurry!”]
In the same breath, he rose - each step controlled, deliberate, and without hesitation. He didn’t stop to put on shoes. Didn’t check his phone.
Just as he was on stairs, this time Gwendolyn’s voice echoed directly to him -
“Rock! Hurry!”
-he was already there.
The door flung open.
Rock stood tall in the doorway, his face was unreadable as always.
But his eyes?
His eyes were full of terror.
Meanwhile Regal hands were trembling - not violently, but in a way that made it hard to ignore. Gwendolyn sat beside him now, holding one of them tightly.
“Hey.” She whispered again, voice calm but cracking at the edge. “Look at me. You are here….. you are safe.”
Still no answer.
Across the room, Rock stepped inside the door - bare feet planted squarely on the floor, not moving, not speaking. His eyes scanned every detail in the room, like muscle memory had kicked in and ordered his brain to assess, protect, prepare.
Gwendolyn touched Regal’s cheek again. “What happened, Regal?”
His eyes slowly shifted, coming back into focus. For a second, there was nothing - just emptiness. But then he blinked, and whatever he had seen... came rushing back.
Regal sucked in a breath and exhaled like his lungs hadn’t worked in minutes. His shoulders dropped, and a cold clarity settled behind his eyes.
“....I am fine.” He said finally, voice lower than usual. Hoarse. Too steady to be convincing.
It was the first lie.
Gwendolyn’s eyes didn’t budge. She searched his face like someone trying to read the last page of a book before deciding whether to cry.
“You didn’t look fine. You were ice-cold and burning up at the same time. You weren’t even blinking, Regal. You looked like you were somewhere else entirely.” She said.
Regal glanced at Rock. The man hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken. But his eyes locked with Regal’s, silently asking the same question.
Regal tried to smile. It didn’t stick.
“I think I just… had a nightmare.”
That was the second lie.
But there was no better word.
What else could he say?
That he had just lived through scenes from a movie he hadn’t even made yet?
That he had felt Harry’s loneliness, Hermione’s self-doubt, Snape’s bitterness - like they were carved into his own bones?
No.
Some truths weren’t meant for sharing.
Not because he didn’t want to… but because he couldn’t.
Because there weren’t words for this.
A soft voice cut in from across the room.
“That is a li—”
“Shut up, Rock.” Rock’s voice cut mid-sentence by Gwendolyn.
Rock had been standing just inside the door, his posture stiff, his face blank as ever. But his tone had started to shift, cracking through his usual calm.
However, Gwendolyn didn’t even look back at him. She just kept her hand on Regal’s shoulder, fingers curling slightly like she was afraid he would fall through the bed and vanish.
And Rock… said nothing.
Not because he was insulted. He didn’t feel even a flicker of annoyance. Because he knew something had gone wrong.
Not in a loud, explosive way. But something subtle yet is heavy.
A misstep in a dance only Regal knew the steps to.
He couldn't name it, but he felt it. Like watching a man walk away from a battlefield with no wounds - but blood on his boots.
He gave a slow nod, as if telling himself to trust them. Then turned around and stepped out of the room.
“I will call a doctor Madam?” He added.
Gwendolyn didn't say a word.
Then the door clicked shut behind him.
Regal stared at the dark wood.
His mind was still racing, but he felt calmer now. Gwendolyn sat beside him silently, no more questions, no more pressure.
Outside, the wind picked up slightly. Rain had started tapping faintly against the windows.
Inside Regal’s head, another notification still echoed silently:
===
[Director] Skill Activated: World Class.
→ [Phase I] Unlocked: DreamState Immersion
Note: New sub-feature unlocked. Details currently undiscovered.
===
Something similar to this happened before too… when he was still writing [The Hangover] script, there was a moment like this.
It only lasted a few seconds.
But one thing is different: he wasn't even asleep - just zoning out, watching playback.
But this time… It’s stronger.Not this vivid. Not this emotionally overwhelming. Not this... complete.
And Regal knew that for now, the less they knew, the safer it was for them.
Gwendolyn sighed softly, brushing hair from Regal’s forehead. “So what now? Are you okay?”
“I think so.” Regal replied. “I just… need to process it.”
Regal stayed sitting for a while longer, staring out into the dark room, still trembling faintly. His mind was racing - not from panic, but from understanding.
He hadn’t dreamed of Harry Potter.
He had entered it.
Every scene. Every emotion. Every moment as if it had actually happened.
He didn’t know what came next.
But he knew something had changed.
In the story.
In him.
.
….
[To be continued…]
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Comments
Cajun sS
Idk how I feel about this concept. Great writing tho
