It started when Rey couldn't find Beans.
Again.
He had woken up to silence—suspicious silence—and the faint scent of vanilla-scented smoke drifting from the hallway. No chaotic music, no dancing furniture, no floating spoons. Just the hum of the house breathing softly.
"Beans?" he called, groggy.
No response.
He found her in the attic.
Except it wasn't really the attic anymore.
The steps groaned beneath his feet as he climbed up, the wooden door creaking open with all the ceremony of a haunted mansion. But inside?
The room glowed.
The entire space pulsed faint violet, like a lava lamp heartbeat. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of glowing polaroids floated midair, twirling lazily. Notes scribbled on rainbow-colored post-its hovered like moths. Red string connected points between hovering objects in absurd, non-Euclidean geometry. Somewhere, a small speaker played lo-fi beats mixed with what sounded like a goat screaming in auto-tune.
At the center of it all stood the genie, arms crossed, wearing a holographic fanny pack and a cropped hoodie that said VIBES DON'T LIE in sparkle text. He turned around slowly as Rey entered.
"Ah. You found my creative lab," he said, dramatically. "No photos. Unless they're filtered."
Rey blinked. "What… is this?"
Beans sat proudly on a floating beanbag chair, wearing her velvet cape and crown. A polaroid of her mid-pounce glowed beside her like sacred iconography.
"This," the genie said, "is you."
He spun, arms open like a game show host. "Welcome to your mind—kind of. These are moments. Dreams. Thoughts. Flashes of memory. Stuff you don't even remember remembering. I collected them."
"You what?"
"I scrapbooked your subconscious. You're welcome."
Rey stepped further in. The polaroids buzzed slightly as he passed. One showed a boy standing at the edge of an orchard, holding a paintbrush. Another, an old woman offering him a cup of tea under a red umbrella. A third — his own living room, except the walls were filled with doors.
He turned slowly. "I never—these didn't happen. Not like this."
The genie shrugged, eyes glinting. "Dreams count. Daydreams, too. Wishes you made when you didn't know you were wishing? Also here."
He plucked a polaroid from the air and handed it to Rey. It showed Beans curled beside him on the floor as he painted. Except… he hadn't painted in years. Not like that.
"You're changing," the genie said quietly. "So your mind's unlocking things. I'm just the archivist."
Rey stared at the image. "Why show me this now?"
The genie tilted his head. "Because your wish is forming, Rey. Not fully. Not yet. But you're circling it. And before you make it—you need to know yourself better than you think you do."
A beat passed.
Rey looked around again. Some of the polaroids were warm and familiar. Others made his skin crawl. One showed the teapot glowing in a pitch-black room. Another—flickered so fast he couldn't focus.
"You're not just giving me a wish," Rey murmured. "You're preparing me for it."
The genie grinned, finger-gunning both hands.
"Bingo, Picasso."
Beans meowed, as if she already knew.
And in the corner of the room, unnoticed until now, a new polaroid slowly drifted into existence.
It showed Rey opening a door he hadn't yet found.