DreamWeavers

Chapter 3

With wet hands, a sore back, and puffy red eyes, I clambered up the stairs of The Mansion. The wet hands, that were dripping suds on the huge brown steps leading upstairs, were from the mountain of after-dinner dishes I’d just washed. The sore back was from emptying out the outside garbage cans, washing them out, and then re-filling them. The puffy red eyes were a combination of my allergies bothering me because of the high pollen count of the day and the fact that I’d dusted every nook, cranny, and crack in this place.

I finally got to my bed and flopped face-first onto my covers. The cheap fabric had never felt more luxurious in my life. Tonight, I would sleep like a king.

I jumped up, sudden realization bringing a wave of energy. Reaching between my mattresses, I pulled out my notebook and my pen. I flipped to the page I’d left off and began writing furiously.

July 18th, 2094

Began with me on the Carpet. I can’t remember the color, but it was familiar.

Then I was in a wooden Armoire and the Music was playing.

The same song. What is it?

Then, it went to the usual. The Choking, and the Man’s voice.

Then THE VOICE.

I could hear it better this time. It said, “She’s gone”. Somehow, in the dream, I knew that the ‘she’, was me.

And THE VOICE definitely belonged to a woman.

I shut the notebook and collapsed back onto the bed. A familiar sense of calm surged through me. I always felt better once I’d gotten my nightmares out of my head and onto the page. At least, until they came back a few hours later.

I yawned and somehow could feel it in my back. Maybe it’ll be earlier than a few hours. I was lying on top of the covers. Sore, sweaty, and stinking of cleaning supplies. I still had my socks and slippers on. And yet, I could feel myself falling asleep already.

***

It started the way it always did. The smell. Sharp and manly with faint traces of orange. It made me feel safe. That never lasted long though, then the darkness would set in.

The pitch black world began to materialize around me, forcing me to come to terms with how small my surroundings were. After feeling around in the dark, I realized I was in my father’s armoire. My stomach lurched and everything came rushing back.

Just as the music began, I burst out of the wooden doors of the armoire, rushing towards the source of the melody, hoping to stop the coming events. It all happened without a thought—my body moved by itself. I was just a disembodied perspective, watching myself charge into the thick of it.

At least until I crashed through the adjoining door. In the split second, when I was directly between the two rooms, my brain clicked back on and I reeled back to my body. As I felt the blood rushing to my head, only one thought came to mind.

What the hell was I going to do?

“It is 6:59 Monday, July 25th, 2094. The temperature outside is 84 degrees and if you don’t get out of bed, Minerva Arius, you’re going to be late for school--”

“Ugh…shut up!” I said groggily. I’d been up an hour later than I’d wanted to be, scrubbing the burnt macaroni from the oven pan. In fact, I’d gone to sleep late every day for the last week because of the chores I’d been doing.

“Reminder: “Sandman” Permission Slips due.”

I wanted nothing more than to silence the WuR, but ever since the Aspiration Day fiasco, I made a pact I’d listen to the whole thing from now on.