The Sandman's Daughter

Thirteen

Cassie perched on the side of the bathtub as Sam paced nervously in front of her. They were in Cassie's bathroom trying to get the bleeding to stop. She sniffed into the washcloth against her nose as she adjusted the one on the back of her neck.

She let the throbbing pain in her face distract her from what she'd just done. She told Sam everything and was now hoping her friend wouldn't go screaming into the night.

Sam remained silent through the whole speech, pacing the bathroom like a caged animal. Cassie didn't know what that meant, but she took the fact she was still there as a good sign.

"I don't understand," Sam said, finally breaking her silent after a few more minutes of silent pacing. "How is any of this possible? Things like this aren't real."

"Yeah," Cassie muttered darkly through the bloody washcloth on her nose. "Try explaining that to the monster stalking our dreams."

"Maybe it's not real," Sam said unconvincingly. "Maybe it's only a coincidence that we both dreamed what we did."

Cassie looked up at her. "It's real, Sam. All of it is real and we're stuck in the middle of it."

"This is crazy. You can invade dreams."

She shook her head, wincing at the pain. "Not invade. I'm summoned to them. I guide people through their problems and help restore peace to their lives."

Her friend sighed. "I guess that's a better way to phrase it. It makes you sound less of a voyeuristic stalker that way."

"Thanks, Sam. Love you, too."

"You know I'm kidding." Sam was quiet for a moment. "How long have you known you could do this?"

Cassie shrugged. "As long as I can remember."

"Really? Even as a child?"

"Yeah. I've always gone into people's dreams. I thought it was normal until I got older and realized what I was really doing."

Sam sat down on the tub's edge next to her. "Does your mother know?"

Cassie tossed both washcloths in the tub. The bleeding had finally stopped. "I've never told her about it. I assumed she didn't but...I think she's been lying to me all these years."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. All those stories about who my father was. I think she's been keeping the truth a secret all this time. I think it has to do with who I really am."

Sam let out a shaky breath. "That's major, Cass. Are you really sure she would do that?"

"I don't know, but don't you find it strange that there isn't one single baby picture of me?"

"There are tons of pictures of you all over this house," Sam said with a laugh. "Your mom loves showing you off."

"Yeah," she agreed, "but not one of them is younger than 2-years-old."

Sam chewed her lip for a moment. "I guess you're right. I've never really thought about that before. It is a little strange, though."

"It's a lot strange. I think she knows why I can do the things I do."

"But how are you going to prove it? It's not like you can ask your mom. If she's been lying this whole time, she'll only continue to lie."

The discarded cedar box suddenly sprang into Cassie's mind. "I think I may have found something that can help us," she told her. "That's what I was doing in my mom's room when you found me."