Little Spark

13 - Hawk-Eyed

"Miss Myer..." Mr. Casey's voice jars me out of a daze in English on Thursday morning. I get the impression it's not the first time he's called my name.

"Huh?"

"Your response to my query?"

"Your query, sir?"

He sighs. "Please see me after class."

Melany and Lylah snicker behind me.

I look at the clock above the white board, and Mr. Casey's voice drifts away as I'm pulled back into the whirlwind inside my head. Since finding the house four days ago, I've had the murder nightmare multiple times per night. At the sound of the shot that kills the wife, I'm thrown back to the bridge, and the dream just runs over and over until Ruby forces me awake—this morning that involved a bowl of ice water. It might just be sleep-deprivation induced paranoia, but I also feel like I'm being followed.

The bell rings, and the scraping of chairs against the floor reverberates through my skull. Mr. Casey watches me intently as I approach his desk.

"Is everything all right, Miss Myer?" he asks. "You seem... distracted." There's a familiar gleam in his eyes that has a calming effect on my nerves.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Casey," I reply. "It won't happen again."

"Oh, I'm sure it will, dear. You certainly have a lot on your plate." He sits back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping alright?"

I decide to tell him the truth... about the sleeping at least. "Honestly, not really. I have these nightmares...."

"Nightmares, huh? Are they recurring?"

I nod.

"I see." His eyes scan the room and lock in on the doorway before he continues. "Have you noticed anything distinctive within them? Anything that jumps out at you, per se?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean, sir."

"Well, in my experience, if a dream is recurring, there's likely something within it awaiting discovery. As a matter of fact, I discovered the location of this pocket watch"— he detaches the gold circle from the chain on his belt loop and shows it to me—"in a recurring dream. It belonged to my father, a man I have no conscious memory of as he passed away when I was very young."

"Oh... " The little glimpse into his personal life takes me by surprise. I don't really know what to say. I wonder if this is how people feel when I mention Mom's passing in conversation. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

He smiles. "It was a very long time ago, but thank you for your sympathy. You and I have much more in common than you know, Miss Myer. My advice to you—unsolicited, of course, so I won't charge you this time," he winks, "is to pay. close. attention."

"Pay attention, sir?"

"Yes. The next time you have the dream in question, try to find an anchor point. It will prove extremely difficult due to the frenzied pace of most nightmares, but if you can convince your dream-self that what she's experiencing isn't real, you should be able to examine your surroundings."

I nod. "Well, it's definitely worth a shot."

"I agree. You should also speak with your class president. Perhaps she can be of further assistance." When his eyes sparkle again, the links slide together in my head: I've seen the same light in Candis and Apollo's eyes. I also remember thinking I saw his fingers spark on the first day of class. The moment it clicks—light bulb, anyone?—and my brows rise in recognition, a smile spreads across his face.