Authors Note: Just because this story is written partially in the 2nd person doesn't mean you have to imagine yourself as the protagonist. I certainly wasn't imagining you as the protagonist when I wrote it.
If one were to dream for many nights, and remember what one dreamed once awake, and make careful record of those memories, then one might notice some patterns in those records of those dreams which hint at a possible escape from dreamland, and vague instructions on how to achieve that escape. If one were to take note of those dreams, and compare those notes with others who are similarly observant, then, perhaps with some trial and error, one might come to a red wooden doorway in the dreamland, which, once exited, opens unto a vast desert. By standing in the desert and looking back, one will notice that all the dreams of one's life up to that point have taken place within a massive dome of white marble, with a single red wooden doorway the only exit. When next one sleeps, they will still be in the desert, and will remain there until they return to the red doorway and go back into the dome that is the dreamland.
If one were to temporarily forsake the normal variety of dreams, and wander through the infinite and tedious desert, one might eventually find oneself inspired to wander in a particular direction. And, if one dutifully followed those directional-inspirations for a time of four years, give or take, then one would come to a castle in the desert, with an exterior made out of giant uncarved boulders, as if built by some pre-masonic primeval architect. The interior of the castle is more luxurious, with walls covered entirely by gems, and floors of glass. The lord of the dream-castle that lies a distance four years journey through the dream-desert from the dream-dome is a man of about seven feet tall, whose face shifts over time, so that in March he might look sharp and angular with intense eyes, but someone who visits him in December will see that his face is doughy and pleasant, like Santa Claus.
This man, who introduces himself as King Buttslap, offers a deal to anyone who arrives at his castle. If the visitor agrees to let King Buttslap slap him or her on the butt a few times, he will record the visitor's name in his large metal book, along with some details about their life. The details are always chosen by King Buttslap, and he will not alter them for any price. For instance, about Mark Twain the king might write,
"Prominent American Humorist and Author. Born in Florida, Missouri. Distinctive Moustache."
The advantage of this deal is that even if all trace of the visitor is lost, for instance, if the human race were to perish, or the entire universe were to be destroyed, their existence and the existence of all other visitors to Castle Buttslap will be recorded forever in his large metal book, in the indestructible and unconquerable realm of dreams.
