The Dreamjumper and The Dreamcatcher

Chapter 10: Nigthmares or dreams?

Reve

I'm sitting at a metal table within a suffocatingly small gray room. The walls are barren and all I see before me is a dark paned window, likely one-way, and the door beside it to the right. No doubt there is someone else behind the window watching me. On the other side of the table there is another metallic chair like the one I'm sitting on.

Not much time passes before someone comes into the room wearing a white suit and black sunglasses. A superior. She crosses the room towards me calmly with her typical rigid soldier-like walk. The chair scrapes against the concrete floor as she pulls it back. She doesn't speak until she has sat down.

"Reve," she says in that characteristic robotic voice of theirs. It's the same woman that brought me into the OSA when I was a teenager. I've only seen her in-person once: the day she took me to their headquarters. After that, the only few times we've interacted has been in dreams. "You've revealed our secret to an outsider."

"What makes you say that?" I contest.

"We have her right here."

The door opens again, and Alora is brought in by one of the other superiors. Her eyes are wide and frightened. She looks like a young fox caught by hunters. So innocent, not knowing what to do or how to escape.

The superiors watch me with an expressionless face, waiting for my response. My first instinct is to stand and go to her to make sure she is okay. But I stay cooly seated.

"That's enough for now," I say aloud, really to myself.

I sense out for that all too familiar mind. It's warm like a fireplace, red with conviction, sweet as a strawberry... In an instant the room disappears, and I'm transported to another dream. One which at least seems less bleak than my own.

"And you told me not to be late," says Alora.

I can still feel the blood pulsing through my veins, but I take a deep breath to calm down my nerves. It was just a dream.

Alora's dream feels cozy and welcoming as I survey my surroundings, which helps push away from my mind what I just witnessed. I'm inside a small kitchen where a woman with a yellow apron busies herself with a boiling pot filled with some type of bean chili. Beside it are sizzling pans containing green vegetables. She is slightly taller than Alora and curvier. Her voluminous black curls fall beside her face which bears a very close resemblance to Alora's. They share the same eyes and nose, but the years are evident on the woman's face by the wrinkles around her eyes and slight forehead lines. She also has fuller lips that are currently pursed as she concentrates on her cooking.

"I didn't realize you were inviting me to dinner tonight," I say to Alora.

The woman turns her head in my direction at the sound of my voice and her eyebrows rise up in astonishment. "Oh, and who is this Alora?"

"This is Reve, mom."

"You should have told me you were bringing a guest! I don't know if we'll have enough food for all of us."

"It'll be plenty. It always is."

The woman crosses her arms and shakes her head, not believing her daughter's statement. "No. There won't be enough for you to take back home. You're so skinny and never have enough food in your fridge. You need some of your momma's home cooked meals to eat."

Alora sighs as her mother starts pulling out more ingredients from the fridge. Then she sets out another pan, oils it and begins pre-heating it.

"So this is your childhood home?" I ask Alora. I exit the kitchen and come into a tiny dining room area. The wooden table is large enough for four people. On top of it there is a glass vase filled with golden marigolds. On the walls there are pictures of Alora at different points in her life. A young girl wearing a white dress in front of a church. A teenager in a sparkling purple princess prom dress. A young woman in a black toga on a stage at her college graduation from the University of Illinois.