Visions from Beyond

Chapter 7: Tea and Mushrooms

Saturday night Neal was once again revisited by his recurring dream—the windswept plain at Abydos, the starfish on the altar, a brilliant night sky filled with stars. Then the descent down the granite steps into the abyss.

When he first encountered that dreaded pit, the shapes were too amorphous to be recognizable, but as he continued to dream, they began to coalesce. Last night he recognized one on the bottom step—the creature from the bookshop. The others, though ... What monstrosities were they?

As soon as he woke up, Neal sketched as much as he could remember. He'd decided to treat his dream not as a vision but as a crime scene. He documented everything as carefully as possible—all, that is, except the abyss. How could he draw such a nightmarish realm?

One small comfort—he wasn't as wrecked by the ordeal as on previous occasions. No cold sweats afterward, no shaky hands, no dizziness. Was he getting used to it? Or was it because he recognized it had links to reality?

Neal had arranged to meet Peter at ten o'clock on the steps of the Miskatonic Library. The early morning was chilly and Neal wore a heavy turtleneck with his jeans. On Sunday mornings, the quad was at its quietest. Most students were sleeping in after their Saturday nights. He used to be one of them.

Neal paused by a tree in the quad, a tall sugar maple. For a moment he saw Kate sitting at the base of the tree, looking just like he'd photographed her. Smiling face, teasing eyes, her dark hair swept back in soft coils. Neal swiped a quick hand across his face and tore his mind free from the memory.

The university library was housed in one of the most distinctive buildings on campus. It was perched on an isolated knoll as if to accent its peculiarity. The slate roof of the old red brick building bristled with witch's-cap turrets. As a freshman, when Neal first heard the stories of strange lights and unearthly noises emanating from the turrets in the dead of night, he'd thought the upperclassmen were simply pulling his leg. Then he experienced them for himself and he didn't know what to think. He'd asked Mozzie about them and he muttered something unintelligible. When Neal persisted, Mozzie told him to ask the head librarian about it. Very funny. If there ever was a woman who could turn blood to ice with a mere look, it was Lavinia Armitage. Mozzie knew her well. She didn't intimidate him. But then nothing much did, except, of course, the police.

When Neal arrived at the library, Peter was already waiting for him. "Any dreams last night?" He asked as they stepped inside.

Neal nodded. "The same one," and fell quiet. Should he mention the encounter the previous evening? The dreams Peter could handle. But what would he think of the creature he'd seen on the streets of Arkham? Despite Mozzie's reassurance, Neal continued to believe he was projecting impressions from the land of his dreams onto the real world. Elizabeth hadn't used the word schizophrenia last night, but she didn't need to. She hadn't mentioned him seeing a psychiatrist .... yet. But it was coming.

"What is it?" Peter demanded. "Did you have another vision?"

Neal's resolve wavered. After everything else that had gone on, didn't Peter have the right to know? He'd already told Mozzie.

When he started to relate his encounter with the creature, Peter stopped him mid-sentence. He led Neal to the back of the library where seminar rooms were located. Selecting the first room, Peter closed the door before grilling him for details.

Neal gave a full account and added Mozzie's explanation.

"You should have called me," Peter said.

Neal was surprised he didn't question the validity of what he'd seen. "I'd already disturbed your Saturday night enough. Besides, what could you have done? I didn't see any point in going to the police. I've no desire to be considered the town lunatic."