Dream Weaver

Chapter 2

 That night, I went to bed early. It was a rough day and all I wanted to do was dream again. Turning, I opened my Dream Journal to the next clean page and put the pen right on top of it before snuggling down into my covers. Sleep came quickly, and soon I was passing through the door of dreams.

It was dark and again, I didn't remember what to do. I looked around in fear as I headed forward, the voice calling me to come closer yet again, though I didn't recognize it. Most people don't remember the time to get to the dream, or their journey back. All they remember is that they start dreaming and then they wake up, not the beginning or the end. So when the door just appeared in front of me, I screamed in surprise before opening it.

Light poured into the pitch black space of my mind. It was nighttime in the dream, but it was still bright enough to make a difference in this 'space'. I shielded my eyes and stepped through the door, which automatically shut behind me. I noticed I wasn't in my pajamas anymore. That when I stepped through the door I changed into a long, black cloak with the hood over my head. I also had a scythe in my left hand, which by the way had four fingers, an indicator that I was dreaming. I went along for the ride.

I walked through the alley, seeming invisible to those around me. They were mostly homeless men, curled up against the wall, shuddering and trying to keep warm in the chilly night. Every so often I'd see a couple of women and children, though once I turned out of the alley I saw cars darting every which way. My dream-self rolled my eyes and walked straight out into the middle of the road. I couldn't be killed, mostly because I was already dead. The cars didn't even slow down, and I ended up walking right through most of them.

When I got to the other side of the road and onto the sidewalk, my right hand slithered into a pocket of the cloak, withdrawing a piece of paper with scribbles on it. I read over the name and address of the kid I was suppose to meet tonight.

1987 Valor Lane

17 Year Old Boy

Dying from lung disease

I sighed. Another lung disease victim. I looked around at the street signs and headed down to where the sign said 'Valor Lane'. An advantage of being the Grim Reaper was that your eyesight improves seven-fold, so you can read a mile down the road. I turned onto Valor Lane and looked at all the houses, finding nineteen eighty seven and going right on in. I used the door this time, shutting it quietly so that nobody would wake up, and that would make my job ten times easier. Despite being dead, I felt a pull at my cloak, which startled me since nobody should even be able to touch me. I looked down.

A little, five years or so, girl looked up at me with pleading, sleepy eyes. Her hand was wrapped up in my cloak and I didn't know what to do, nobody living has ever touched me before, though I've heard about people who could come in contact with the dead while they are alive.

“Are you gonna kill my brother?” The little girl sniffled and tears started to fill her eyes. She was cute, blond hair, blue eyes, footy pajamas. And I'm too nice sometimes.

“Yes sweety, it's his time to go.” I heard my eerie voice coo at her, which made me sound even eerier. The girl cringed and burst into tears.

“Please don't! He's still fighting, I don't want him to die!” My heart twisted for this little girl who was about to lose her brother, but I had a job to do, and that meant killing this girl's sibling.

“I'm sorry, but it's my job. Don't you want to end his suffering?”

“He'll end it himself, he's strong, just give him a chance!” She sobbed now, hiding her face in my cloak. I still had the scythe at hand, and could easily kill this girl, though I'd get written up and put on probation for killing someone that I wasn't suppose to kill, so I let it go. I unattached her from my cloak and set her on the couch.