Diego Torres dreams.

It hasn’t been easy, but an extra two grams of sage have worked their magic.

Everything was blurry, shifting. He’d been wandering across the rooftops of that strange dream city, going nowhere. Too anxious, or too high, or maybe he just didn’t believe it would work.

But at last, he’s found the place. Or one that looks very much like it.
And the creature is there. Or one that looks very much like it.

He leaves behind the dazzling vision of the enormous scarlet antenna and descends into the alley.

It could really be Madrid—a version of Álvarez Gato Street filled with strange graffiti, slightly deformed but still recognizable. The mirrors are even here. Full-length, like the originals. Torres peers into the concave one, where a grotesque child winks at him. In the convex, a bearded old man threatens him with his cane.

The nightmare waits in the shadows until the man finishes acclimating before making its entrance. It needs him fully lucid for what it has to propose. And maintaining sanity in the City of Dreams, the Palace of Desires, where anything is possible, is no easy feat.

Because it’d be easy enough to forget his true goal and dream that his brother is alive. Create a corporeal dream, like commissioning a robot in the shape of a deceased child and refusing to wake up. That would be the easy way out, right, my friend? But this human seems determined to walk the hard side of the Dream, and perhaps he could be useful.

All this, the nightmare thinks as it watches Torres from the purple darkness of the alley.

And Torres, what does he think? He’s still dazed from the sage. He’d love to light a Ducados—yes, that’d be good—a long drag, a proper hit of nicotine to wake him up fully. He looks at his hands, blurry, shifting, and visualizes the cigarette pack. The original, blue and white, without pictures of rotting lungs, without “Smoking kills” messing things up. There’s a scarlet spark, a vibration between his fingers, and there it is—his first dream object, ready to be consumed.

He’s as excited as a child, tearing off the clear seal, breaking the pack, pulling out a cigarette. The rest comes without thinking: he brings it to his lips, another spark, and the cigarette starts to burn slowly as he inhales. Yes, that’s it, everything truly seems possible in this dream city. He smiles as the black cat rubs against his right leg.

Of course, Torres isn’t aware of how extraordinary everything that just happened is, but the nightmare knows. It knows it has found what it was looking for—a human capable of manipulating the dream fabric at will, almost without effort. And it wants to tame him, guide him through the shadows, turn him into an ally. But also, to fulfill its promise, break the bond that ties it to the alleys of the human city, and finally be free.

“Welcome to Cat Alley, rookie,” it purrs.
“So, you’re real.”
“It’s one way to see it.”

Torres laughs heartily, taking a couple of puffs from the Ducados. It has a dry, smoky taste. Like a good black tobacco, he thinks. Deep, earthy, balanced. Just for this, it’s already worth the hangover, my friend.

Then he crouches down, petting the creature, which lets him scratch behind its ears with pure delight.

“We have unfinished business, you and I…” murmurs the dreamer, almost letting himself be carried away by the intoxicating sensation of pleasure coursing through his fingers, “…so let’s get to the point.”
“You didn’t come here just to stroll around, huh?”
“I’m looking for something.”
“Oh, really?” the nightmare purrs, licking its left paw. Its blue eyes lock onto his. “Answers here aren’t free. And even when you pay, they might not be to your liking.”

Torres drops the cigarette butt, which disintegrates in a scarlet flash upon touching the cobbled ground. He lifts his gaze, meeting the creature’s with a mocking glint.

“In that case, I have something to offer you,” says the nightmare, “but first, let’s make a pact.”
“A pact, like in those fantasy stories?”
“Like in all stories, rookie. The hero begins his journey in a strange land, meets an ally, and they make a pact. That’s how it all starts.”
“I see.”
“Let’s get to basics. Give me a name.”
“So that’s what this is about. Alright, let’s see…”

Diego Torres stands up, crossing his arms in an attempt to hide his nervousness. He looks at the creature with an ironic smile, but his eyes betray the fascination consuming him. Though it seems like just a black cat grooming its whiskers, there is something majestic and terrifying about it, as if it were an ancient god—the god of all cats, Deus Omnia Cat. That mix of hypnotic beauty and threat deeply unsettles him, but he decides to face the creature with whatever humor he can muster.

“How about ‘D.O.C.’?”
“‘Doc’…”

Torres barely has time to savor his own joke before the air in the alley begins to vibrate. A wave of energy envelops him, dense and tangible like an electric pulse. Shadows shift around him, and the cat—that creature now named Doc—begins to dissolve into crimson threads as it lunges toward him.

The alley mirrors vibrate in unison, reflecting blurred figures from other places, other times. The reflections seem to intertwine with his own, as if merging their identities, and Torres feels his whole body start to dissolve into reddish filaments that weave together with those of the nightmare.

Something pulls at his mind, trying to decipher his thoughts, read his memories. It’s uncomfortable, like an itch in his neurons. He tries to push it away, but the threads wrap around his legs, crawl up his torso, intertwine with his arms, reaching his hands. Torres feels a sudden warmth and a pressure that forces his palms open, his veins sewing themselves together with scarlet thread.

“Don’t resist, human…” the nightmare purrs, its voice woven with the wave that shakes the alley. “A name has power, and you’ve given it to me. Now we share the Dream, and our threads are one.”

Torres tries to pull away, but his legs won’t respond. The bond seems to materialize as invisible ropes binding him to the nightmare. Despite everything, something within him can’t help but feel a certain fascination for the energy enveloping them. His consciousness and that of the cat tangle into an endless skein, and suddenly he meows—a low, guttural sound resonating under the purple sky of the dream city.

“‘Doc’… yes, it’s a good name.”
“What the hell is going on?”
“Relax, we’re almost there.”

Torres feels his body relax, or rather, surrender. He cannot fight what has happened. By giving it a name, he has sealed a bond with the creature—one so deep it transcends the dream plane. A pact forged in the darkness of the Dream, now defining both their destinies.

The cat steps away, walking with that graceful, lethal elegance. Its shadow casts over the dreamer, making him seem smaller, more vulnerable.

“Not bad for a rookie. Now, you can call on me whenever you come here. I’ll say it again: ‘Welcome to Cat Alley.'”
“For all the devils, Doc. We agreed you’d give me a discount,” Torres says, rubbing his hands with a pained expression.

The creature shudders. Torres hears a meow that sounds like laughter and sees it wink at him.

“You’ve got a sense of humor, human. I assure you, not even in the January sales would it have been cheaper.”
“Well, good to know.”
“And now that we’re done with the boring formalities, what’s next? Oh, right—you want to see your brother again, don’t you?”
“That’d be a good start.”
“Well, you know how it works. Are you ready?”
“Sure, bite me hard,” says the inspector, offering his hand.

The cat doesn’t hesitate, sinking its needle-like fangs into the dreamer’s fingers. Torres feels an icy jolt, a pull at his neurons. Everything turns blue, and his vision shatters like a broken mirror.

“It’s funny, your brother called me Doc too…”

He hears it like a distant echo before falling into the nightmare.

(*) Álvarez Gato Street is a historical street in Madrid known for its distorting mirrors, which playfully alter one’s reflection. The name Álvarez Gato can be interpreted as a playful nod, since “gato” means “cat” in Spanish. To preserve the pun and evoke the mysterious atmosphere of the original setting, it has been translated as “Alley Cat” in English.