Dream Walker

Chapter 1 | Sweet Dreams

There comes a time in a person's life when dreams should be explicable, both those of the sanguine heart and the unconscious mind. Experts claim that dreams allow us to resolve issues and process information while we sleep, and they analyze the subjects of those dreams to gain insight into our thoughts and desires. Though sleep seems to have a certain pointlessness, sorting through deep psychological issues is vital work. Others suggest that dreams are merely the result of normal neuron firing or a reflection of cognitive development. While these explanations are all acceptable theories, comprehending our own dreams is never that simple.

Callie O'Neill had combed through internet sites with interpretations for all types of dreams and was still no closer to understanding the meaning behind her vivid imagination. Many of her dreams repeated for days, some appeared only once, but none allowed her any rest. Instead of refreshed and renewed, Callie woke each morning exhausted from the ventures of the previous night. She no longer attempted journaling or in-depth mental exploration. Instead, Callie immediately snatched and opened her laptop, the browser already opened to a website that claimed it could decipher the meaning of any dream.

"'Dreaming about a maze or labyrinth frequently suggests confusion or a sense of feeling lost,'" Callie read aloud. "Deep psychological insight, my ass. I could've dreamt about searching for tomatoes in the supermarket and applied the same logic."

The only benefit of the constant dreaming was Callie's inability to sleep late, making alarms generally unnecessary, despite the inherent consequence in always rising early. Her roommates, however, appreciated their peaceful morning sleep, so her routine consisted of light steps and a quick breakfast. Though they had moved in more than a month earlier, boxes were still scattered around the small apartment. Callie bruised her shins on many of these boxes each morning, and this one was no exception. She bit her tongue to prevent herself from disturbing the silence as she padded through the apartment until she was ready to leave.

Click. Whoosh. The frigid breeze carried in through the open door, unexpected for the season, considering it wasn't officially fall yet. Hurrying to catch her morning class, Callie began a brisk pace toward campus. The apartment was far enough from campus to be comfortable but not so far to justify driving. Besides, Callie enjoyed walking through the sprawling city most days.

All too quickly, the imposing brick buildings of the university appeared in Callie's vision, looming over the surrounding neighborhood. Posters advertising club meetings and fall festivals were pinned to trees, buildings, railings, and any other free surface. The beautiful campus was currently green and thriving, but the coming fall months would see it covered in thousands of leaves. No matter the season, the beauty contained on the university grounds was unparalleled in Callie's experience. A few students dotted the winding sidewalks, either on a similar mission to reach their first class or the closest coffee shop. Callie slipped into the Science and Engineering Building, taking a seat in the lecture hall with only a minute to spare.

Out of sight, lying broken and bloodied next to a full dumpster behind Karen's Café, just off campus, was the body of a young woman. In two hours, she would be discovered by the man emptying that dumpster. Less than an hour after that, police would swarm the scene. The first police officer to respond would vomit upon seeing the pallid, mangled corpse, while the officers that arrived next had seen enough death to remain impassive. These officers would recognize the woman's wounds as indicative of an animal attack. A medical examiner would then arrive to confirm the police's suspicions, letting out an imperceptible sigh, imagining the pain and terror the young woman suffered. All of these things would happen very soon. But so far, it was an ordinary Tuesday morning.

****

The sounds of Marilyn and Quinn's argument were audible over the hum of traffic when Callie fit her key into the lock of the apartment door just after noon. Mr. Hawthorn, their downstairs neighbor, could also hear them, based on the scowl and refusal to return her wave when she had ascended the creaking staircase. After jiggling the key back and forth and shoving the door with her shoulder, she could hear the unmuffled conversation.