Episode 1: Goodnight, Esmerelda

The Milky Way galaxy. Planet Earth. Cleveland. Ohio. Twelve-year-old Esmeraldo looks out the window of her father's single-engine airplane. Merelda doesn't know this probably? John Stonefall, the oil tycoon, Petitions were signed, ladies' groups had lunches. Finally as a compromise. Built a summer home on a small piece of the land and donated the Despite the controversy, they were happy there. And settled. But a few stains. Never having had to know. Now later on that night.

Apparently their engine began to be And people on the news later will be. Could hear it. A sound. In the sky. But while that plane was still in the air above Pepper Heights, I didn't hear it. I was far below. in bed in my friend's guest room. Huge white clouds were racing through the sky, making the light in my bedroom change from bright Too bright, too dim. But I didn't notice that either. I was deep in a dark dream.

Now, my dreams are pretty fucked up usually. Like me and my mom are astronauts, and she's floating away, and I can't do anything about it. Or like the train car I'm on is full of a thousand big fat slow black flies landing on everybody's face and lips and they don't notice they're just reading their Kindles, that sort of thing. And I don't dream about sex that often, but when I do it's always something really awful. I'm at the Dell.

And the guy behind the counter is making me fuck my cousin Brian in front of a line of old ladies waiting for their hams. And I can't get hard, and everybody's waiting. Amen. Anyway, ever since I got to Cleveland I've been having this strange recurring dream. And it always starts the same. I'm in the water. Hanging suspended in its deep water. and it's dark, I can't see anything. The water is the same temperature as my body. It feels pleasant. My hair is just gently swaying.

And then I feel a little bit of cold on my legs. And at first I think it feels sorta nice. And then a little bit more cold. And then slowly I realize. That something huge is moving underneath me. They start to freeze. get away. But I can't get anywhere. The water isn't moving anywhere. is getting closer. But the icy water rushes in. I feel it fill me up and then it zigzags us. gets to the back of my asshole. I wake up. And I throw off the covers and I look down. And my dick is rock hard.

So hard that it's actually like bobbing up and t oh fuck, I am late for work. I jump out of bed, I throw in my face.

But now I have to run the first time. No, you go for time. Screening. It was always so And outside of New York I've never really seen anything like that. There was such a mix of people, people from every country and every Lefty public All these different kinds of lovely humans right here on Rivington, but not a one of them knows how to walk at the right speed. MOVE! I turned the corner. Amen. I see a truck. I almost run into it. Some sort of utilities truck.

It's like parked half on the grass and half in the street. Yeah. And I hear cussing coming from somewhere close. Cocksucker, motherfucker, son of a bitch! and it sounds like it's coming from above me, so I look up and there's a

sort of crane coming up from the utilities truck to a bucket and there's a man in the bucket filling with the light pole but I can't really see him because he's silhouetted by the sun but he's just cussing up a storm. I've never heard somebody cuss so blatantly and out in the open and I mean this is a name. There's like old ladies and like little kids left. Hey! A little girl comes out of nowhere. She almost runs me over on her bike. Jesus. Okay. Just a few more blocks. Well.

And I don't have to run anymore. I think I can just walk briskly. I don't want to be a complete sweaty mess when I get there. And I'm only 13 minutes late. That's not so bad. That's close to 10 minutes. It's almost 10 minutes late. I get to the side entrance, this big metal building, and above the door there's a sign that says Xenark Corporation. And then I open the big metal door. The cold air instantly hits me.

The security guard gets up from his chair and blocks the hallway. He crosses his arms and stands in front of me. His eyes narrow as he went. I D badge. Really, I've worked here for three weeks. And I'm late. After a ridiculous amount of looking at me up and down and then looking at my badge again. He lets me pass. Four more heavy metal doors and finally Long. Five. To survey the sixty nine known moons of Jupiter for Deposits. You weren't are classified as lifeless.

But nonetheless, you are advised. Scanners.

Okay, hold on for a second. I know what you're thinking. Cleveland? Why Cleveland? Why did I go to Cleveland? I went to Cleveland because I was tired. Tired in tired in like a cosmic sense, in like a big sense, not just like day to day tired. Not like I need a nap tired, but like I need a six month soul nap tired. And my friend Emily was gonna be gone for six weeks, so she said, Come stay in my house, water my plants, and you can be alone. And I thought, Alone? Alone time? That sounds great.

It's what a gift to somebody who's been living in New York, especially a musician. So I thought I'll write an album. And so I went. I took my keyboard, I set it up in her living room, I turned it on, I sat on the bench and grindered. And ate my way through an Amazon shipping error of Doritos. Every once in a while my free hand would reach out and blindly finger a random cord.

Grinder for some people I think is fun. Like they can just pop into it and then pop right back out of it whenever they're done. But for me, I've never been able to stop having fun, but not in like a not in like a I'm always having fun kind of a way, but in like a like there's so much fun that it hurts kind of a way. Uh and it just eats all my time. Obsessively.

But after three days I still hadn't gotten laid, and all my white keys were orange. So I deleted grinder again and started looking for a job. But after literally walking into a mirror while dropping off my application at the American Apparel and being given what I thought was a rather gauche, but nonetheless classic runaround by the assistant manager at the Chipotle, I was running out of options within walking distance.

But I finally scored a late season job working at this tiny little neighborhood amusement park. It's called the Pepper Height Zoo. And this place had been a risk-free tax haven since before plastic was invented. It was like a nursing home for old oil money. And the zoo part was a motley collection of creatures gotten cheap for various reasons. But the most popular attraction by far, the animal on all the lunchboxes, the star, was an elderly zebra named Zoe.

Now I don't really have any experience with animals myself, so they gave me a job as a ride attendant on one of the few rides. This large indoor roller coaster called Jupiter's Lifeless Moons. It was right next to Zoe's exhibit. Everyone just referred to it as the moon.

It was a pretty tame ride actually with a writer minimum height of only 48 inches. 44 if you had an adult. The whole idea was that it was a space shuttle that took space prospectors out to the moons of Jupiter to look for helium-2 deposits. My job as an employee of the fake space prospecting company, the Zenark Corporation, was to unload the kids, instruct them to report any helium-2 deposits during their debriefing in the next room. And I had to use my most official sounding voice.

And the park did a pretty good job making it all seem spacey and fun. There were flashing lights and space props. And in line you heard a robot voice saying the mission objective on Loop. Mission Long 10182135 There was even like space adventure music playing from hidden speakers during the ride itself.

That was a cool thing about the Pepper Height Zoo. They piped in music all over the park, like specifically made for the park. A lot of it was recorded years ago by these three ladies. They were sisters. The Sruderberg the Something Sister.

Uh you Yeah. But they also recorded a theme song for Zoe. And since the ride shared its huge metal building with part of Zoe's exhibit, I did have to listen to that on loop for my entire shift. Other than that, it was a pretty easy gig though, I just had to stand behind my podium and say my Attention all miners aboard Shuttle five, please report your helium two findings in the debriefing room.

The lap bars clank open and the kids scramble out. They all run into the next room, the debriefing room. But one girl lags behind. She stands there beside the track. I realize slowly that I recognize her. She has ridden the ride several times this week. And she's dressed like a Catholic schoolgirl, or I don't know what what I think they dress like. Lap bars slam down automatically on the coaster behind her, but she doesn't jump.

The empty card disappears into the dark tunnel to pick up another batch of kids in the next room, leaving us alone. Are you okay? I'm perfectly fine. Okay, you um you need to report to debriefing. Please. I'm nearly 60 inches tall. There we go. Um I know it's all pretend. Okay, well you still have to leave before the shuttle comes back though, okay? I know. I just thought I'd wait till they clear out a little. The other kids.

She nodded towards the debriefing room, but she wasn't really looking at it. She wasn't looking at me either. And she spoke like a small adult from the nineteen sixties in that creepy way that kids who were raised by their grandparents sound? Her eyes settle on a far door. I instinctively step out from behind my podium.

Then another door opens and a man enters. He walks quickly towards me. His nice suit makes him look completely out of place, but he stops when he notices the little girl. Amen. Oh Hello there. He winks at me as he walks over to her and bends down to her eye level. So, tell me, do you have any helium deposits to report? She just glares at him. That stays anchored on his face as she walks around him and disappears into the debriefing room behind him. No, that's a great age.

This man is Eli Critch, the director of the Pepper Heights Sioux. Hello Duane. It's um uh Dane, uh actually. Oh yes, of course. I'm sorry, Dane. Dane. Dane. Dane Dane Dane Dane Dane Dane Dane Dane Dane. I knew that. Dane. Dane. How are you liking it over here at the moons? Um it's fine. Somewhere else in the building the old roller coaster car makes a turn, and the whole building responds with a soft metallic groan. Okay. Well, I just wanted to give you an updated set of keys,

Changed the locks last night. I can't be too careful. What would the Current. Rig em a roll situation. He sets a keyring under the podium. Two shiny new keys on it. That's the broom closet, that's the front of the ride, and that should do ya. Then he smiles. And then the smile turns off like a neon sign and he walks away. But he stops short in the middle of the shuttle bay and turns back around, that green shuttle approaching light flashing on his nice suit. Oh indeed.

You do know that door leads to Zoe's nighttime enclosure. Yes. He points at the far door. I nod slowly. Now I've always loved the grocery store at night. Like a 24 hour grocery store is like my dream. And it's mostly because there are no people, yeah, sure, but also because everything's been restocked and straightened and it's perfectly neat. There's just row upon row of brightly colored boxes with little cartoon faces all peeking out the same way.

And I think it's because everything's so neat and there are no people moving around and there's this bouncy music playing. That if you look for it, you can really glimpse the shape of a terrible screaming skull behind the gorgeous face that is the grocery store. And it hits you. You're standing in a warehouse of death. a plant and animal morgue. Tonight I want a pie. But the bakery section of the store is dark.

Like the lights were out in just that corner. And also the pie case, I know exactly where it's at, I can see it from here, but it has a shorted light tonight. And it's blinking randomly, giving the whole bakery section a sort of bad part of town feel. Uh maybe a bad boy, maybe not a bad boy, depends on who you ask, but I'm certainly not afraid of the dark and I mean sort of a rebel. I even have the cart with a squeaky wheel, so I like Squeak right over to that bakery section.

Squicky squeaky squeaky. And as soon as I cross the threshold, I see him sitting in shadow. Three little girls, girl scouts, maybe, behind a table. About twelve years old, give or take, They had dull eyes. Over thin smiles. Good morning. But it's just after midnight. Technically morning. That's uh that's pretty by the book. Uniform? I recognize the one girl from the ride earlier, it's the girl that lagged behind, and she recognizes me. And the other two are twins but with different hair.

You uh selling something? No, but if you'd like to do it. Most appreciative. Oh, so you don't have like you don't have cookies? I just thought you know bakery section um girl scouts that maybe We are not affiliated with the Girl Scouts of America. I reached into my pocket and I thought I'll just give them a dollar and be Minimum donation is three dollars for the pamphlet. But that's called selling something. What's what's the pamphlet about? and advocating for animals.

What are you raising money for, anyway? Zoe. The zebra. We're raising money to save her. The zoo is too broke to do anything about it, even though they seem to have plenty of money for that stupid new exhibit. Stupid! How do you forget a whole sea? You work there, don't you? Part time.

Walking home, I couldn't stop thinking of how that little girl said the word zebra. Zebra. Her weird little voice and her weird little cold blue eyes, like two little hard candies that someone spat on the sidewalk. It feels weird being out in the open. And this pie is hurting my arm. Oh, thank God. I walk up Emily's steps. I open the screen door but it hits something. I bent down to pick it up. It's a small cardboard box. It feels warm in my hand.

There's a name written on top of the box and beautiful cursive. Лук. Presque. I don't know anybody named Luke. I look around. Nobody's out. All the windows and all the houses are dark. Then the smell hits me. Cinnamon and cardamom. I look down. I open the box. And more of that smell billows up. It's a small spice cake, and it smells. Thousand Christmases. I instantly feel wrong for looking, so I close the box back up again.

I go inside and put the cake in the fridge. I think I'll just text Emily tomorrow and be like, Do you know anybody named Luke? I get a fork and I sit down with the pie box in front of the TV. I open it, and I wait for a pillow of delicious smell to hit me, but it doesn't. The pie seems to have no smell compared to the cake. I take a bite anyway and turn on the news. Some millionaire and his daughter crashed their plane into the lake. Search and rescue operations are underway.

People on the news are pointing to the sky and talking at the camera. They show a picture that the father posted to social media right before the flight. It's the two of them standing next to the door. Her smiling really big. And it was captioned Esmeralda's first plane ride. I take a bite of pie and stare at Esmeralda's face. Then I stopped chewing. I think of the bottom of the lake. of that plane. there. Slumped over in the crushed cockpit. His daughter trapped in the water. Behind him.

Looking at the back of my dad's head. Ribbons of red silk in the water. In my gut. They will never find Esmeralda Parring. She'll be down there alone forever. The bite of pie is mush in my mouth. I swallow it and turn the TV off. And then there's only my reflection. And the dark glass. Looking back at me. Dream Boy is co-created by Dane Terry and Ellie Heyman, developed and directed by Ellie Hammond. Performed by Dane T. Baldwin, Avery Drought, Johnny.

and Morgan Meadows, sound designed, engineered, mixed, and mastered. Studio. Marketing by Adam Cecil.