“Escapism — a habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.

        “Have you ever wanted to go somewhere where no one could recognize you? Have you ever wanted to run so far away that no one could track you down? Have you ever wanted to hide somewhere beyond worldly capabilities? Look no farther than Dreamland©, the world where you can live out your dreams for hours, days, or even weeks at a time without single care. Don’t worry, you’re guaranteed to return to reality at the exact moment you left it. How cool is that?

        “Now, you might be wondering, ‘What’s so special about Dreamland©? Aren’t there numerous other services that can offer the same sweet utopia without the price?’ Well, well, well, we’ve surely got the offer for you. For a limited time only, we’ll be offering one hundred free spots in our portal, Escapism: The Ultimate Getaway. What are you waiting for? Grab your phone and join us today. All you need to do is call 1-800-***-0000.”

        The flashing lights pulsed for a few seconds longer as Sara stared at the bright, strobing screen. An empty, deadpan glaze settled across her face, a look of both disinterest and disconnect — disconnect with her parents, her community, her world as a whole. After several seconds in this mindless state, Sara shut off the TV. The noise was too much for her today. With all the commotion amidst her rather unremarkable life, the weight increased, a slow burn that slowly became unbearable. New things had scared Sara ever since she was little. For five years, she had stuck to a rigid routine: wake up, school, sleep, and reset, but it would soon be gone.

        With her parents’ new jobs, she was bracing herself to let go of habits from her previous life. The new house, new school, and new people had completely obliterated her world of comfort and ease. She was thrown into complete novelty. Not knowing what to do with all the doors that opened before her, she sat there, trying her hardest to keep hold of everything she was leaving behind.

        The portal to her new world came and went in a blur. The move to a smaller, cramped apartment was smooth, effortless, and emotionless. The new school year started without any complications. Sara’s classmates tolerated her enough so that she could get by, day after day, week after week. Eventually, the roaring discomfort of the new things dimmed into a low hum that stuck to her like a wet blanket. Amidst the dullness of her everyday life, there was one particular aspect of her past that she couldn’t forget. Wherever she walked, the silly ad replayed over and over again in her mind. Whatever they advertised seemed like some obscure device straight out of the latest Stanley Stan sci-fi film.

        Every time she found herself drifting off, she imagined the sweet release of her dreams, but night after night, she drifted off into an empty, dreamless sleep. Nothing could stop her daydreams though. Recalling her nostalgia-tinted youth, she felt the sun’s sweet rays warming her back as she lay on the soft carpet watching her favorite cartoons. Her favorite show appeared each day at exactly three in the afternoon on channel 55. For two hours, she would lie there, enthralled by the sheer silliness of the dog and the monkey. For roughly twenty minutes, her characters grappled with seemingly unresolvable dilemmas that always concluded with hearty laughter, returning the characters back in their blissful, unbothered states. It was a perfect world. One she wished to stay in forever.

        These days, her life looked a bit different than before. There was no more time for the TV, and even when it was on, her mind failed to relax. Her thoughts were overtaken by two things: her classes and her trumpet. The level of academic rigor had substantially increased at her new school. Her previous label as smart, talented, gifted had been torn away and shredded to pieces by an environment where everyone was equally smart, talented, gifted and more hardworking. After each and every exam, she found herself wallowing in self-pity as her tablemates raised their hands in celebration for their near-perfect scores. Her academic prowess disintegrated as the grades from her favorite subjects fell to the same level as her poorest course. The only class that brought her the slightest hint of solace was jazz band, a new class she had picked to fulfill the performing arts requirement. Surprisingly, she found an intense admiration and talent for the trumpet. Amidst the many setbacks and failures of her daily life, she could always rely on the instrument to exponentially boost her mood. Within the three valves, there lie an endless world of variation and opportunity for a newness that pushed the limits within her level of comfort. Each time she picked up the trumpet, she was holding all uncertainty in her two hands, knowing that she could stop any time when things started to get out of control.

        However, at scattered intervals throughout the day, she still found her concentration wandering towards the commercial. She hadn’t known it at the moment, but in less than a minute, the talking box managed to tattoo an image of a better tomorrow in her otherwise rather empty mind. In lulls of almost peace throughout the day, she could feel herself drifting off to the land of the sweet release, practically tasting the day when she could enter her fictional cartoon world. The images pervaded more and more of her life, suddenly cutting through in the middle of a jazz band rehearsal, the only place where she had been previously safe from such thoughts.

        “Stop distracting yourself,” she muttered at the glowing screen that stood before her, unmoving like a boulder, growing larger by the second. Thousands of frames flickered before her, circling around and around, taunting her with the endless possibilities of a seemingly impossible world. Every night before closing her eyes, she promised herself that she would make time the next day or the day after to return to the childhood bliss of her afternoon cartoons. However, the next day always came around, but free time never came. Not even the weekends were free from the grasp of various, time-consuming, petty tasks. Every second in Sara’s day was packed to the brim with classes and meetings and activities, one after the other, until there was not even a single second to breathe.

        After a week of particularly tough rehearsals, the winter concert rolled into Sara’s life, unsuspecting and a bit more eventful compared in the context of her rather beige life. She sat down in the cold, cramped waiting room with her jazz ensemble, a group of equally stressed musicians, each quietly fingering, humming, or tapping their solos. “Deep breath in, deep break out. You got this,” she whispered.

        The music blared and buzzed and bolted past Sara in a single blur. Before the fifth and final set where Sara would play the first solo of her trumpet career, the conductor gave a short introduction about the piece. Tuning out the voice, Sara stared into the darkness, intrigued as the faces in the audience turned into static waves, like those of a broken TV. Suddenly, the advertisement blasted before her eyes. The grinning man towered above her, holding a remote in his hand, his eyes glittering with mystery. The numbers 1-800-***-0000 shone neon white, blinding her with their brilliance. In that exact moment, the piece started.

***

        Sara finished her solo in a daze. As the band exited the stage, she was already sprinting out of the auditorium to make the call. Her hands shook in the freezing cold as she dialed the numbers that were blaring over and over again in her mind. After what seemed like an endless series of dial tones and a century of choppy, tasteless waiting muzak, she was met by the commercial man’s strong, vibrant voice. His instructions were clear: Go home. Grab the remote. Enter the digits 5-4-3-2. You’ll be asked for your name and a five-digit code sent to your inbox. After a few quick verification steps, you’ll enter the portal to your dreams. After, all you need to do is sit back and enjoy the show.

        A quiet note followed the man’s message. This faint trace was practically unnoticeable, a message delivered by a robotic, monotone whisper. Be careful, there’ll be a bright flash of light when the portal is first opened. Depending on the dream, the body may be compressed by the simultaneous push and pull of realities. Ultimately, the selected world will appear. Here, we cannot guarantee peace, but there will be escape. This escape is indefinite, and we cannot guarantee that you will want to return. We repeat. We cannot guarantee that you will want to return.