Prologue
I’m utterly bored. It’s not that I have nothing to do—I do. I’ve tried different hobbies, but they only fill my boredom temporarily before becoming part of the routine.
But I guess that’s what growing up is, right? Doesn’t it make life feel a bit disappointing, though? When I moved to London, I thought, This is it. Now I can live out all my wild dreams. But those dreams were slowly extinguished by the endless bureaucracy of being an immigrant.
Every morning, I wake up at 6 a.m., go to the gym, shower, and head to work. I make sure all my meals are prepped on Sunday so I don’t have to worry about food during the week. Sometimes, after work, I meet up with a couple of friends for drinks.
Once in a while, I’ll catch a play or a movie. Dating? Rarely. I feel less attracted on going on those as the years go by.
But that’s life for a 30-year-old woman who isn’t a heiress. I don’t have the luxury of avoiding work just to pay the bills.
Don’t get me wrong—it’s not all bad. I could be unemployed, or I could have the worst coworkers in the world. Work is okay, and now and then, people’s idiotic behavior does surprise me.
That’s my life, though, until the evening, when I get ready for bed, pick up a book, and let it distract me from all the day’s worries.
It’s something I started doing in uni. I read two books before bed—one related to work or personal development, and one that’s light, easy, and usually fantasy.
Since I was young, I’ve been in love with the concept of magic. Maybe it came from my mum—she’s always had a spiritual side. My home country, Brazil, is full of that stuff. We grew up on Sítio do Pica-pau Amarelo, a whole world of folklore with creatures like Cuca, an old hag who tortures kids that don’t go to bed on time.
And then there’s the myth of the Boto Cor-de-Rosa—a dolphin that supposedly transforms into a man to seduce and impregnate women, offering an explanation for single motherhood.
I know—it all sounds super crazy. But I’ve always found it fascinating, the way people create stories to explain things or teach lessons.
As a millennial, you’d expect me to be a huge Harry Potter fan, and you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve read and reread those books. When I was younger, I’d dream of getting my Hogwarts letter.
But I never wanted to be one of the characters. Even in those dreams, I was still me—a new character who showed up by magic, using my knowledge of the story to save the day or stop anyone from getting hurt.
I guess everyone, while reading a book, imagines saving someone or doing something differently, right?
I get so attached to books that sometimes I don’t just wait to read at night. I carry them everywhere and devour them during my commute. I need to know how the story will unfold.
That’s what excites me. I know—it’s sad. But beggars can’t be choosers.
So, I keep going—every day the same—and deep down, I hope that someday, a little bit of magic will knock on my door.
I just didn’t know it would turn my world upside down.
Before I explain more, there are a few concepts you need to understand to grasp what I’ve become.
There are certain stories that resonate with us on a deeper level—stories that become bestsellers and shape generations.
I’m talking about Brave New World, Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia—books that bring whole new worlds, languages, and beings to life.
But it’s not just books. When you visit Parc Güell in Barcelona, doesn’t it feel like Gaudí’s work comes from another world?
I think so. I’m always in awe of how artists imagine these things and bring them to life. That’s when I stumbled upon Plato’s Theory of Forms, or Ideas. Don’t worry if you’ve never heard of it—I only know about it because my mum’s a philosophy professor.
To keep it simple, Plato believed that all ideas exist in an abstract, non-physical realm. Some people can access this realm and pull ideas from it—maybe that’s where the phrase “having your head in the clouds” comes from, but I’m not sure.
What if Plato wasn’t entirely wrong, but only 50% correct? What if, instead of an abstract realm, we’re talking about different dimensions—an infinite number of them, each completely unique, not a copy of our world? What if writers don’t just get ideas from the “clouds,” but enter these dimensions through their dreams and take inspiration from them?
I’m not saying they know what they’re doing. That’s why I call them “dreamers.” But I realized I’m something different on June 6th. I’m a traveler—I can physically enter these dimensions. I’m aware of it, and I can even change things within them.
But what I didn’t realize at first was just how dangerous these travels could become.
