Mr. Davis sat bolt upright in bed, having suddenly woken up with a searing pain in his left arm. He had the dream again. It was the same as usual; the dragon attacking him in that cave, while he was standing there in his pyjamas together with Snuggles, his teddy bear. And then the loud voice that filled the cave, which sounded like it was coming from an old man, telling him to come to him, wherever that was. Even though it was only 5 a.m., Mr. Davis flung his legs over the edge of the bed and got to his feet. Walking to the bathroom, he limped a little. A couple of days before, he had hurt his ankle while trying to get away from the dragon haunting his dreams. He looked in the mirror. A greyish face with bags under its eyes and a couple of red scratches on it looked back at him. He rubbed his eyes and splashed some water in his face. Then he had a look at his arm, which had been throbbing with pain ever since he woke up. It was bright red, and blisters already began to form; a memento of the dragon’s fire, which had hit him when he hurried behind a corner a little too late.

That evening, Mr. Davis went to bed early. However, afraid as he was to sleep and find himself facing the dragon again, he decided to read the newspaper for a while. It did, however, not take long before the eyelids of Mr. Davis became quite heavy, and suddenly he was no longer in his bedroom, reading The Guardian with Snuggles at his side, but he found himself in a dimly lit cave, which seemed rather familiar to him. The Guardian lay on the ground, together with Snuggles. Mr. Davis picked them both up, and started sneaking towards the source of light, assuming that indicated the exit of the cave. It soon, however, became clear that he had not been stealthy enough. A beam of fire scorched the place he had been standing only a few seconds ago, and a loud roar caused the walls of the cave to tremble. Mr. Davis started running towards the light, when a loud, and familiar, voice filled the cave: “Bring it to me!” Paying no attention to this, he continued running. However, then the voice said something it had not said before: “Bring me the ancient scroll!” This confused Mr. Davis, as he was under the impression that he did not possess any ancient scroll. “Bring it to me, and you’ll be free”, echoed through the cave. All of a sudden, he felt the newspaper in his right hand move a little, as though it was trying to wriggle out of his grip. He turned around, and then he saw the source of the voice. A man, dressed in purple wizard garb, stood at the other side of the cave, his wand held high. If this man spoke the truth, he would have to hand over his newspaper, which appeared to be an ancient scroll according to the wizard, and then maybe he would be free of these nightmares. However, Mr. Davis had learned from his many nightly adventures that any injuries he sustained while doing this, would still be there when he woke up. He did not want to think about what would happen when he died in here. However, he also strongly wanted these weird dreams to end as soon as possible. Mr. Davis therefore decided to do as the wizard asked of him, although he was finding it hard to trust wizards in dreams that considered The Guardian an ancient scroll. There was an obstacle, however, as the dragon was now standing in between him and the wizard.