【 Richie Tozier likes fine art and Eddie Kaspbrak thinks the glasses-wearing boy is the art 】
or the one in which eddie can't swim and richie saves him from drowning.
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Dreams, Eddie's late father used to say, is what causes some people of their little world to cross the line between hope and reality — making their aspirations more than just desires but rather Real Life. Frank Kaspbrak had to have been mad, Eddie believed for more than a few years of his life. The idea of it was crazy in itself, the mind was a powerful thing, yes; but a fictional story in your sleeping mind could not really change your life— not for the better, anyway. Eddie supposed his once-dad was a dreamer, in his own way. He'd dreamt too much though, and it had killed him in the end.
Eddie's cheap and shared apartment smells like paint and grief on a Thursday evening in early winter, a blue and fluffy blanket was thrown over the twenty-four-year-old's sleeping body; as a black cat stays curled around his arm contently with a quiet purr.
The artist dreams of a funeral, unknown family members carrying a heavy casket down the aisle of weeping Kaspbrak's. Eddie is relatively stiff, his hands frozen by his sides and his eyes are stinging with tears but they do not fall. Brown, feathery hair spills over his eyes messily when Sonia Kaspbrak's sister begins to speak at the front of the dusty church; her voice shaky and full of sorrow for a lost sibling. . . ."sonia was the kind of person who cared" . . . "more about you than herself" . . . The vision in his dream turns blurry, ugly splotches of black fading in and out. His cheeks do feel wet now, fat drops of salty water forcing themselves down freckled skin. Then the banging comes.
He's floating. Bang, bang, bang. Disgusting scents hit his nose, as though he had begun walking through the sewers. Piss and shit. Still floating, red fill every area he looks. Bang, bang, bang! Words echo in each ear, the voice belonging to the woman in the heavy casket. You're delicate! Delicate, Eddie-bear! Balloons, then. He's floating because of the red balloons, a face filters through his mind momentarily, screeching the same words over and over like a wolf in the night.
["WE ALL FLOAT DOWN HERE"]
Eddie Kaspbrak jolts with his own terrified scream soaring through the living room, sticky sweat sinks into the plum-coloured couch holding him upright. Zella, the cat, runs away with a sudden hiss. A terrible feeling seized through him, it makes him cry with ugly sounds escaping his throat. Zella watches him begin to frown from afar, the black cat resembling a shadow in the loud dark.
