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Happy Dreams Do Come True

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Katherine Daisy was known for being kind. Some looked down on her for this, even in her line of work. She worked with children, which was already something which labeled her as naive by other adults. But when she got hired at a youth mental hospital she hadn’t expected to be given the side eye by those she worked with. 

First of all, most of these patients were teenaged, who had similar wants and needs to smaller children but not what Katherine was most experienced with. Second, she was a nurse but didn’t have much power over how the patients were treated. Especially the ones with mental health issues and disabilities. 

The other nurses gave her constant warnings about the patients, especially the head nurse. That the kids will take advantage of her kindness, and if she gave an inch they will steal a mile. 

Most of the time Katherine continued to walk into the room with a sunny smile and a cheery hello. She figured they needed it, since the sunlight through the windows were always filtered by bars. It gained mixed reactions. Once a week she would organize group sessions in an attempt to get them all to talk about their experiences and to each other. That gained mixed reactions as well. All of the teens called Katherine “Miss”. 

Then once, when she was playing a board game with one of the patients, he told her Katherine she deserved to take a day off. She had been considering it, since she wasn’t really getting along with her co-workers, but she felt the patients needed her more. Now that she was being encouraged, she decided one day couldn’t hurt. 

On that day, the hospital burned down. All of the patients had gone missing. 

After that, Katherine was referred to an old orphanage, because she still had solid credentials. She felt somber about what happened, but she could move on. Besides, the new children she had been assigned to look after were younger, so perhaps she could have a more favorable time. 

But she still witnessed the same problems. The staff seemed more concerned with the upkeep of the place with the lack of funding they had than the children themselves. Which, in itself, was no small accomplishment, but whenever she left for the day, she saw something in the eyes of the children she hadn’t realized was there until after she saw it. 

So after that burned down, she was referenced to yet another ailing child care facility. One after the other until she realized it had been more than ignorance over neurodivergency or any other type of difference. It was something beyond human. It was humans dealing with supernatural beings. No one either was doing anything about it or they didn’t feel like they could. So if no one else was going to act, Katherine Daisy was. 

And with that, the Happy Dreams Daycare was founded. 

 


While most of the children at the Happy Dreams Daycare were some variation of the supernatural, Mrs. Daisy had noticed a good number of the parents were human. Mrs. Daisy herself could relate to being human, and while she lacked the experience of having children of her own she sometimes had more knowledge of the subject at hand than they did. 

But then there were the parents who were some form of supernatural creature. Even with Mrs. Daisy’s experience it made parent-teacher conferences awkward.

She straightened most of the items on her desk as she waited for the parent and child to arrive. She was aware this wasn’t like the many children of Satan who attended, who was a consistent no-show for these conferences. Instead she had a different set of issues. She hasn’t interacted much with Toshio Saeki’s mother, but from what she’s heard that family has had an unfortunate experience with teachers. 

Toshio himself was mostly quiet and hung around the social groups of the other students rather than in them. What would get him to interact with others the most was the artwork he hung up after arts and crafts. 

Mrs. Daisy was well aware of how it wasn’t as simple for adults to befriend each other as it was for the children. Kayako Saeki would pick up Toshio every day, but Mrs. Daisy wouldn’t always see her. At times when she was looking after the other kids she would see that one second Toshio was there, and the next he was signed out with his mother’s hand and footprints left on the walls.

As Mrs. Daisy thought on that, she saw something moving at the door. It was black hair. It was after daycare hours, and it was too tall to be one of the children. Then she heard a noise behind her. 

She instinctively turned around to see Toshio touching the things on her desk she was touching a moment ago. He was wearing a cat ear headband. One of the counselors must have given it to him. 

“Oh, Toshio!” Mrs. Daisy said, “I didn’t hear you come in. Or, see you, for that matter.” Mrs. Daisy glanced around him. “Did you come here on your own-“

Mrs. Daisy began to rise from her chair to get up, but as she turned around there was someone else standing over her. It startled her enough to sit right back down. 

“Ah! Hello there...” Mrs. Daisy said. 

Kayako had most of her hair in her face, but she could feel her eyes looking down at her. 

It reminded Mrs. Daisy of a certain other girl she knew, but Kayako at least showed portions of her face for Mrs. Daisy to piece together a whole.

“It’s nice to see you again,” said Mrs. Daisy. “Would you like to take a seat? You’re in my personal space, just a teensy bit.”

Kayako continued to stare. Mrs. Daisy was aware there was more than one type of language barrier between them. As far as Mrs. Daisy knew it wasn’t a problem when she contacted the Saeki residence before. But then again, their phone number is just the number four over and over again. Mrs. Daisy turned back to Toshio. 

“Toshio would you mind sitting down as well?”

Mrs. Daisy heard heard a few bodily pops and clicks beside her, and when she looked turned back Kayako was standing close to the chair rather than sitting in it. Mrs. Daisy tensed at the bodily clicks, just like one would cringe at someone cracking their knuckles, but she set that aside. 

“So,” Mrs. Daisy said, sitting down at her desk and hoping Kayako would do the same. She did not. “I just wanted to start off by saying that Toshio is an absolute delight to have in class. He’s creative and attentive. Rarely causes disruptions. He’s made a few friends, but he could gain from being a bit more open to others.”

Kayako opened her mouth slightly. A small bit of that infamous rattle rose from he throat. Toshio had sat in the available seats, bringing his knees up to his chin while looking up at his mother.

“Oh, I don’t mean that as a bad thing!” said Mrs. Daisy, “But, the reason I called for the meeting, there was one ittsy bitsy issues I wanted to bring to your attention,” Mrs. Daisy swallowed. She pushed down thoughts of how much of her nerves Kayako could sense.

“Well, Toshio is still very young, but he seems to have developed a habit of having a hard time keeping his clothes on. This isn’t a criticism, really, I don’t know how related it is to his Onryō status, but, well...”

She noticed Kayako was in a plain, white dress that was as clean as it could be with the faded blood stains. Such a thing made Mrs. Daisy notice the fingertips in front of the dress, also as pale as they could be. They had dirt or something the color of dirt underneath her nails. It was certainly a contrast to Mrs. Daisy’s teal painted nails. 

“...well there are a lot of kids who go through this phase at his age. I just don’t feel it’s a fit for the classroom.”

Kayako’s rattle continued at a steady rhythm. 

“But!…Um…I’m certain that this could be figured out! He could use it to express himself as he gets older…if he gets older…he’s so expressive…would you, um, like to see his drawings?”

Mrs. Daisy pulled out the pieces of paper that was on top of her desk. They were a mix of crayon drawings and paintings. All of them were cat themed. 

Kayako looked down. Her hand slowly, very slowly, moved forward until her fingertips grazed over the dry colors. 

“He mixes cats with everything!” said Mrs. Daisy, “With plants, things, even other animals. He’s quite creative!” 

The rattle still went on, but it lowered in sound the longer she looked at the paintings. The fingers touched the paintings as if they were reaching into another life. 

“I’m not aware how busy your schedule is,” said Mrs. Daisy, “I know being a single parent is time consuming, but I can suggest some art classes for Toshio outside of Happy Dreams, if you’d like.”

Toshio gave a small “Mrow” at that.

Kayako then looked towards Toshio. Due to their very nature, it wasn’t simple anymore to get out of narrow-focused goals. But somehow they got here, and somehow there was a path forward from that. 

Kayako begrudgingly stepped away, then made some impossible joint-gesture with her arm to allow Mrs. Daisy to get on with it. 

Mrs. Daisy wrote down the names of the places she was aware of on a sheet of paper. 

“Okay. Great! This was such a productive meeting! It was very nice to meet you. Why don’t we - oh, no, ma’am, the front door is open, you don’t have to-”

But Kayako and Toshio had already creeped away into the shadows of the supply closet. 


Despite its name, there were the occasional recurring nightmares plaguing a few of the children. Some of them find them to be enjoyable in a morbid type of way. Others fed energy off of it (Nightmares don’t have many nutrients, but at least it contained no corn syrup). Other kids didn’t have dreams necessarily, but visions or gateways to other places through sleep. 

But just like not all children present at Happy Dreams were inhuman or supernatural, not all of them were undisturbed by nightmares either. That’s how Mrs. Daisy ended up sitting with one of the young boys, Wyatt Nelson, during nap time. Wyatt held one of the stuffed animals to his chest. He wasn’t holding it tightly, merely setting most of his focus on the shadows on the wall. 

“Wyatt,” said Mrs. Daisy, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Wyatt shook his head. Mrs. Daisy tried to guess if it was the nightmare or feeling uncomfortable talking to an adult which made him quiet. Despite being one of the few fully human children there, he was still social enough to interact with the other children. Usually that extend to playing sports or borrowing portable video games or watching secondhand as the supernatural happenings unfolded around him. 

And yet, Mrs. Daisy was still hassled by shooing away Wyatt’s occult followers and family members from the premises. 

“Would you like a juice box, Wyatt?” Mrs. Daisy asked. Wyatt didn’t bother answering this time. Mrs. Daisy still took out a spare juice box as well as a thermos out of her purse and placed it onto the table. Wyatt had gotten possessed by a demon while underwater, and even after the demon was exercised out of him he developed an extreme aquaphobia. Even drinking from the water fountain made him fear the demon would return to him. So Mrs. Daisy compromised by being sure any liquid which came near him was either sealed or something he couldn’t see. 

“It’s very pleasant that you could keep me company during my lunch break, Wyatt,” Mrs. Daisy said, taking more things out of her purse, “I hardly ever get to spend time with just one of you.”

Wyatt remained silent and turned away. It looked like he was going to stay that way the entire time. After Mrs. Daisy finished a sandwich, she got up from the table and skilled in front of Wyatt. Wyatt had a small gasp when she entered his peripheral vision, but then averted his eyes again. 

“It’s okay to be upset,” she said, “I’d be much more worried if you weren’t. You can cry if you want. It could give you a release.” Wyatt shook his head. “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Wyatt shook his head harder. 

Mrs. Daisy looked over the many posters and arts and crafts projects on the board. She pointed to a poster which labeled basic emotions. 

“Can you point to one of these, to let me know how you’re feeling?” Mrs. Daisy asked, “Maybe that can help me help you.”

Wyatt’s eyes flitted over to the emotions chart, then back at his shoes. He muttered something under his breath.

“Could you repeat that, Wyatt? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I miss my mom and dad.” Wyatt said.

Mrs. Daisy’s face softened. This wasn’t the first time Wyatt had lost a set of parents. 

“I know,” said Mrs. Daisy, “That must hurt so much. But missing them means you still love them.”

Mrs. Daisy didn’t mention it, but not every child at Happy Dreams was fortunate enough to have any caregivers who cared or them, past tense or not.

“I miss my sister too.” Wyatt said.

It wasn’t the first time Wyatt had lost a sister either. The closest he had to a legal guardian was his aunt Katie, who was also exercised of her demon and getting treatment through non-daycare means.

“You’ve been through so, so much. More than any child should have to go through. You’re so brave, Wyatt.”

Wyatt finally looked up at Mrs. Daisy’s face.

“No I’m not.”

“But you are. It might not feel like now, but you went through some very scary situations and got through them. That’s brave.”

Wyatt kept eye level with Mrs. Daisy. 

“What I’m feeling isn’t on the poster.” Wyatt said.

“Can you tell me what that is?”

“Hopeless. I feel hopeless.”

Mrs. Daisy moved closer to Wyatt’s chair, still kneeling at his eye level. 

“Why do you feel hopeless?”

“Because there’s nothing I can do to stop anyone from getting hurt. Because the demons are after me, so they’ll be after everyone I love too. And I can’t do anything about that.”

“Oh, Wyatt,” Mrs. Daisy said, shaking her head in sympathy, “That’s such an awful thing to be feeling. But you’re safe here. The Daycare is made to be safe. You won’t be hurt here.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s true. And it’s been true every day since you’ve arrived here.”

“You can’t prove it.”

Mrs. Daisy was going to say more encouragements, but then she had a bad sense in her stomach. She thought about the dreams and his situation and how much she couldn’t prove which turned out to be very real. Too real. 

“Wyatt, these demons. Did you see them in your nightmare?”

Wyatt pursed his lips very hard. His fingers gripped the edge of his seat. 

“Not only in my nightmares.”

That’s when Mrs. Daisy realized Wyatt wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her. 

A question was forming in Mrs. Daisy’s mind but something yanked her leg before she had the chance to say it. Her chin hit the floor as she was dragged back. She instinctively reached out but her hands only made a feeble attempt at grabbing the leg of the table before being pulled further on the floor.

Mrs. Daisy didn’t want to scream. She didn’t want to lure the rest of the children in and place them in danger. But when she was thrown into a wall, she couldn’t help but yelp. 

Wyatt hadn’t gotten out of his chair. He was curled into a ball with his eyes closed and his hands over his ears. 

She could not see what she assumed to be a demon that was attacking her. It must have been invisible. But when she tried to crawl away its grip on her leg was still very real. 

Mrs. Daisy heard a bang, and while for a second she thought it was the monster, it was the nearby door swinging open on its own. 

The force dragged her across the floor again. Slowly this time, as if it was taunting her. When she tried to kick at it with her free leg it connected with nothing. 

Mrs. Daisy tried to remember whatever unclassified information she was told about the demons that attacked Wyatt’s family. But by the time it dragged her to the door she held onto the border of the door by her fingers. 

“Wyatt!” Mrs. Daisy called again, “Wyatt, please!”

Suddenly there was a crash. Mrs. Daisy could feel the debris from it. The table had been thrown over her and into the closet. It didn’t hit her but it didn’t seem to affect the demon either. Everything that was on it as spread all around the floor. Wyatt moved to a corner of the room and fell silent again. She couldn’t read his mind, but she could tell he was just waiting for it to be over. 

Mrs. Daisy pulled herself up as much as she could. She reached by her fingertips and just managed to grab the thermos. Mrs. Daisy let go of the edge. Her heart jumped at the gravity of letting go, and then she turned around and opened the lid. A blue beam shot out of it and hit some type of form. It encompasses it, showing off some shape of the creature, and heard a screech as the beam retreated into the thermos. 

Mrs. Daisy closed the lid. Then she let out a big, shaky sigh. She gripped onto the frame agai and pulled herself back to her feet. 

When she walked up and shut the door behind her, Wyatt was staring up at her, wide eyed. 

“Fenton Thermos,” said Mrs. Daisy trying ease her way into a grin, “It looks like my brunches with Maddie Fenton paid off!”

That didn’t look like the question that was on Wyatt’s mind. He looked like he was going to say something, but then his lip started quivering and he collapsed fell to his knees. Mrs. Daisy rushed to his side. 

“Mrs. Daisy,” he said, crying, “I’m so sorry!”

“No, it’s-“ Mrs. Daisy hesitated to say it’s okay, because she was very closed to being harmed or possessed by a demon while the other children were sleeping, “I understand what happened.”

He hugged her and buried his face onto her stomach. 

“I was so s-scared! I didn’t think there was anything I could do to stop it from getting me.”

“Okay.” Mrs. Daisy smoothed our his hair. “We do a lot of bad things when we’re scared. But now you know that you don’t have to be hopeless. Tell you what? Why don’t you help me clean this up and I’ll save you a spot in the Quiet Corner. I’ll make sure the other kids don’t bother you and you can rest. Sound good?”

Wyatt sniffled, then wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

“I don’t wanna sleep alone.”

“It’s okay. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

Mrs. Daisy slowly peeled herself away from Wyatt’s arms and looked around the room. It was more than a bit of a mess, though not through the most unusual causes. She took out a pack of tissues she always keeps in her pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to Wyatt. Then she went across the room for a broom. It was a good thing this was the break room and not something the children should be playing in. 

“Mrs. Daisy?” Wyatt asked.

“Yes Wyatt?”

Wyatt was quiet for a moment, wiping his eyes with the tissue.

“Thank you.” He said, “For calling me Wyatt. For remembering that I’m Wyatt and not Hunter.”

Mrs. Daisy stared back for a moment and then grinned in a somber way.

“Of course.” She said, “That’s who you are.”


Jason Voorhees’s machete didn’t fit in any of the cubby holes. Upon arriving for his visit to Happy Dreams, every attempt to place his favorite item into the empty cubbies resulted in it clattering to the ground. He stared at it the machete on the floor for a long time, and then the cubby for an equal amount. He never had this type of trouble the last time he had a cubby. But he was much smaller then, too. 

“Now remember, kids!” He heard from the other room, “We’re going to be respectful and polite during Mr. Voorhees’s visit! So that means…”

There was a pause. Jason peeked into the doorway and saw an assortment of strange looking children raising their hands. A woman in a ponytail and peach sweater pointed to one of them. 

“Keep our hands to ourselves!” The child called out.

“And?”

The teacher pointed to another child. 

“No killing questions!”

“And why don’t we ask about the ‘killing questions’?”

“Because…it’s not polite?”

“Right! So I’m going to let our special guest in, and he’s going to inform us of some of the fascinating things that have happened in his life!” 

Jason stepped to the side as the teacher moved her way through the door. When she walked through, she startled at the nearness of him. Jason didn’t care for counselors of any kind. But he could set that vendetta aside for the woman who’s name tag read “Katherine Daisy”. 

“Jason!” Mrs. Daisy said. “You’re so tall in person!”

She handed him a name tag reading “Jason Voorhees” written in gel pens. There was a smiley face drawn in every O in his name.

“I appreciate so much that you took the time out of your busy schedule to pay a visit!” she said. 

Jason was wandering in the street when the invitation flittered at him from the sky. He has no earthly idea of how that happened, but then again, he has no idea how he’s still alive at this point. 

“Now,” said Mrs. Daisy, “I understand you mostly communicate nonverbally. That’s perfectly fine. You’re not the first nonverbal person to come in here. The children here are also excellent visual learners!”

Mrs. Daisy led Jason into the room. She did a brief introduction for him and said Jason’s answers would be drawn on whiteboard behind her. She left Jason with a marker and stepped aside. 

There weren’t many children in the room. But when they all raised their hands, His career path so far was the opposite of a public speaker. 

Pointing. Pointing seemed to be a task that wasn’t difficult.

“Mister Voorhees, sir?” Jason almost didn’t look up. No one had ever addressed him so formally before. Especially not a child. “Is it true that you’ve been to space?”

That was true…at some point…wasn’t it? If it was, he doesn’t recall how he got back. It was a fact that Jason has been to a number of places and done a number of things. 

Jason drew a moon on the board and spaceship on the board. That seemed to be confirmation enough for the children.  

“Have you ever actually played hockey? I like hockey!”

Jason has never considered that. Contact sports were for…others. Usually for the other people who bullied him. Or ran from him. One or the other. He drew an “X”. The “X” was unrelated to the space question. There were whispers throughout the room, as if they were some kind of council of confirmation or denial. 

“Mister Voorhees! Mister Voorhees! How did you survive so long?”

He supposed that didn’t count as a murder question. Quite the opposite, really. He started with a series of arrows, but ultimately left a question mark for that one. The question mark was somehow a sufficient answer. 

“Jason, do you have any advice for kids having a hard time?”

He wouldn’t know where to begin with that one. He couldn’t even say is own name, much less answer a question that could fill a self-help book. Jason considered the smiley faces drawn on his name tag. It would be easy to draw, but it would be a lie. So he drew the face without the mouth, making it resemble his mask even more. 

After questioning was over, it was playtime. The children asked him to join them, mostly asked him to hold their jump rope while they played and tried to toss balls over his head. When the day was over, when he wandered to where he left his machete, he found it neatly placed upright at the wall. 

Perhaps there was at least one not-so-bad counselor in the world. They would be spared. It would be the last Happy Dreams would see of him. 

Or would it?

The End?!