Ch 3: Dreams

Notes: (Runes) would be the actually rune that the characters sees in their dream. It would be nice to be able to share the rune font.

Revised: Nov /13

Chapter 3 – Dreams



         Standing in a field, Caleigh turned and saw a never-ending stone wall, and beyond stood a row of cedar, and blue spruce trees poked toward the blue sky.  She recognized the family greenhouse and the sheds on the far side of the wall. She turned and continued walking away from the barrier, farther from home. Within a few minutes, she stopped at a wooden footbridge leading over Oak River to the south of Berwick Village. Counting four oak trees, as she glanced across the river, her body shivered. Cautiously, she stepped upon the cedar planks. She glanced down and noted a few had rotted from years of rain and wind. Would the wood support her? Would she be swept up by the river? The water surged over jagged rocks. Once safely across the river, she collapsed to the cold hard ground, while her triumph swelled over her fear.

         The scent of cedar and wet earth caught her nose. Opening her eyes, she sat up and surveyed her environment. No longer at the river, Caleigh awoke underneath a canopy of branches. Trembling, she inhaled the familiar aroma of cedar mint. Her breathing slowed as her body relaxed. She traced a straight, carved letter P on the closest cedar tree. Her finger remained on the carving while her eyes roamed to the next tree, and she noticed the letter I and then another symbol carved into a trunk. “Eight trees and only five symbols. What does all this mean?” she asked the trees. One of the trees, without a symbol, vibrated and then crashed to the ground. She screamed. Luckily, none of the debris touched her.

         The flutter of wings behind her made her jump. She turned her head and caught a glimpse of sparkling red wings as the creature disappeared behind a boulder. She took a step toward the rock. Not hearing any noise from beyond, a thought rushed as fast as a mudslide. Hope it’s friendly. She climbed onto the boulder. Peering over the rock, a scream caught in the back of her throat. A fire-red lizard with glittering crimson wings stared at her. She froze.

         A smile crossed the creature’s face. Tilting its head, the lizard opened its mouth and spoke, “The panther is lurking. You must accept your powers.”

         Caleigh awoke, startled from her dream. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and gazed at the mosaic of candles on the lilac-painted bedroom wall. “Only a dream. What was that lizard bird thing?”

          She drew her legs up to her chest, under her wolf-design comforter, and hugged her teddy. Any frightening residue from her dream vanished while snuggling the soft, cuddly bear. “Butter, remember when I was three and I thought you smelled of butter. I was so happy when mom brought you home for her birthday. It’s weird. Hallowe’en –Mom’s birthday and I get presents.” Caleigh glanced at the collection of teddy bears sitting on lilac painted shelves bordering her room. She counted them, assorted colors. She liked the plain ones as much as those wearing t-shirts or hats. “Thirty. Two each year. Wonder why Mom gives me a bear on her birthday and then I get to unwrap one for my birthday, six weeks later. Winter Solstice, my birthday.”

         She snuggled with the bear. “Yep, still like butter.” She giggled.

         “I recognized the stone wall. It runs along Stoney Lane. It’s been there, like forever.” she muttered to her furry friend. “What did the message mean? Creatures like that don’t exist in reality.” She sat Butter on her pillow and rolled her sleepy self to the carpeted floor. She crossed her bedroom to the desk and opened a drawer. She found her purple journal and a pen. Her fingers played with her shoulder length hair.

Thursday, June 14, 1984 – I dreamt that I was walking in the field behind our place. I’ve never been behind the stone wall. Why is it even there? Who built it and why? Those cedars were so old, I’m surprised they all didn’t fall down, but it was only a dream. Lizard-bird talking creature. Too freakin weird, even for my dreams. I must accept my powers. What powers? And who cares a panther is lurking. No panthers, besides the Boston Zoo. She was kinda cute. If it was a male, I’m sure it would have attacked. The carvings in the trees might have been a message, but from who?

         Caleigh then sketched the mysterious symbols in her journal so she would not forget the markings on the cedars. 

                                        (Runes are marked here.)

         A cold breeze tickled her bare arms. Her hand froze, and then she jumped. “Mom! Don’t sneak up on me!”

         Her mom stepped across the threshold into the bedroom and stood behind Caleigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

         “Since when don’t you knock?” Caleigh folded her arms and grunted.

          “It’s after 10:00 am. You didn’t come downstairs, so I thought you were still sleeping.” She looked over Caleigh’s shoulder and saw the page full of five symbols. She caught her breath and placed her hand on the back of the chair. “What are you drawing?”

         “Nothing, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

         “I’ll be downstairs when you want to talk about what’s bothering you.”

         ‘Alright then!” Caleigh crossed the room, jumped into her bed and threw the blanket over her face. “Mothers!”

         Hearing her mother leaving the room, Caleigh released the comforter and hugged her bear. The aroma of fresh grilled waffles swirled through her door. She jumped out of bed. “Dad made waffles!”

***

         Bare foot, Brody strolled along a cold, well-trodden path in a dense forest. He paused at a dead oak tree and ran his finger down the decaying bark. He heard a rustle in the leaves. In the distance he saw a tree, black as coal. “No life for many springs,” he muttered. In the blink of an eye, he stood at the base of the dead tree then looked up into the branches. His gaze returned to the ground. Covered in pine needles, lines and arrows were scratched into the dry forest floor. “A message,” Brody whispered. Kneeling like a football player waiting for instructions from the team captain, he traced the markings with his left index finger.

         Crack! Crash! He turned and faced a shifting pile of rocks. Smaller rocks rose and floated from the rubble. They hovered closer and closer. Brody stared in shock and watched the chunks circle his shivering body.  He closed his eyes, wishing them away.

         He opened his eyes. A clear blue lake stood in the distance. A white flash of crooked lightning hit among the trees. He looked to the sky, expecting dark thunder clouds, but only a blue sky with shifting white fluffy clouds.

Intrigued by rhythm of mysterious chanting, he walked on spongy grass toward the lake.  He recognized the voices. He darted behind the first cedar leading the way to the sandy beach, hiding from the men, caped in ankle-length plum-coloured cloaks, not wanting to be seen or captured. He peeked around the trunk.

         The four spun around and looked directly at him with the most intense blue eyes.

         Do they see me? Brody felt his heart drop to his stomach. All the breath escaped his lungs. He dropped to the ground. Should he stay still or try to run before they reach him?

         The men turned away and continued chanting around the fire.

         Determined to get a closer look at the cloaked men, he found the courage to continue. He crawled to a boulder and then the cedars that lined a path to the lake. He stood and peered around the tree. Only one more tree, until he reached the sand and merely feet from the clustered men.

         They looked at him. “It is time.” The musical voices fluttered toward him.

         Their expression surprised him, not cold but a warm smile and shimmering blue eyes. The words startled him. They speak English? It had always been a language he didn’t recognize. He couldn’t move, his feet frozen to the ground. Lightning hit between some trees on the opposite shore. The chanting stopped and the cloaked men vanished in purple mist.

         Brody woke and rolled out of bed, he tripped over a pair of jeans and stumbled to the floor. Sprawled on the carpeted floor, among scattered metal band t-shirts and dirty socks, Brody thought of his dream. He stretched and then raked his fingers through his messy blond hair. “Where’s my journal?” He brought himself to his feet and walked to his desk cluttered with comic books and cassette tapes. He opened the bottom drawer. As he shuffled through comics, he found it. Brody had been recording his dreams for three and a half years, ever since his thirteenth birthday and first dream of the purple cloaked freaks. Smoke on the Water guitar solo filled the room when he clicked play on his stereo. Brody slumped into his chair and began to write.

         

Thursday, June 14, 1984. Forest of maple and oak, black pine tree, fear, rock circling and hovering, Purple Cloaked Freaks – again! Willow and cedar trees but first time at a lake. Chanting in their special language. But this time, I recognized - It is time! Time for what?

         I’ll never forget the symbols. (Runes)  They are a message, but who sent them? I have no idea. What do they expect me to do anyway? I’m only 16. But I have a question for them - Time for what? Too bad those Purple Cloaked FREAKS never talk to me. What are they hiding? Perhaps another dream will tell me. They visit so often. I wonder if they’ll talk to me. I finally understood part of the chanting! What does it all mean? Why were the rocks circling me? I thought they were gonna knock me over. They were like an insistent cat, always nudging. I should call Blaine and tell him about it.

         He read, then reread his journal entry. It’s time, but for what? He shuddered and then stared at the words written on the page. The cassette clicked to silence. Eventually, the smell of bacon caught his attention. “Mmmm, Mom’s frying bacon...my fav.” Brody dressed in faded, ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the desk chair and ran down the stairs.

***

         Sitting on the damp cement floor, Alexis opened her eyes. She looked around the unfamiliar room. Cement walls and floor. No doors or windows, definitely not any exits from her cold prison. “What am I doing here?” She shivered. She drew her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. I won’t cry. I’ll be brave. Looking up to the narrow, circular ceiling, she noticed a ray of light, the sun’s rays attempting to break through two tiny openings. She picked herself up, sat on the cot and tossed the dirty grey blanket onto the shabby pillow. “That stinks like musty, old barn and not Grand-dad’s.” She coughed. Her throat was rough and sore. Licking her parched lips, a tear trickled down her face. Courage slipped beyond her reach. “I’ll be brave. My warrior will rescue me. He always does.”

         She stood on the cot. It shook beneath her weight. I’m gonna fall and break a leg. A voice reminded her to be brave and not to think such stupid things. Wiping her face, she screamed, “Let me outta here!”

         Creak. A wooden trap door appeared on the floor to her right. Alexis dropped to her knees on the cot, “What is this place?” she asked. The door creaked. Her breath caught in her throat. A moaning from beneath the opening reached her ears. “Oh my Gods!” Her thoughts raced as quickly as fluttering bats. “What is that? It doesn’t sound human.”

         A creature emerged from beneath the door. Claws, sharp as razors, dug into the cement floor. She gasped. “That ain’t natural.” Covering her eyes, a terrifying scream escaped her lips. The creature pulled itself through the hole in the floor. Its breathing was like a wind in a fierce thunderstorm. The skin resembled dry, smoky gray paint that had been opened and left for days in the hot sun.

         Alexis grabbed the blanket and pillow and held them for comfort. She tipped the cot to its side as a shield knowing the metal was too weak to protect against the winged creature. “The jagged wings looked like saw blades ready to cut down trees.” She whimpered, cowered behind the cot and covered her face.

         Claws stretched out front, it dragged its body closer to Alexis. “It’s going to kill me! I have to get outta here!” It reached out a claw, scraping the metal. Alexis screamed!

         Before Alexis stopped screaming, she was standing infront of the towers. She took a deep breath and inhaled the aroma of wild flowers as the grass tickled her bare feet. She jumped up, twirled and bumped into a solid concrete wall as tall as a school bus. She looked at the obstruction, to her right, and then to her left. No obvious opening in the barrier. The wall was cold and felt like sandpaper. Turning away from the wall, she breathed in the comfortable scent of spruce and cedar trees. Her face brightened and she smiled in relief. Her breathing slowed as she regained composure. I’m alive. She danced about the flower. Facing the barrier and with a tilt of the head, she traced lines crudely carved into the concrete. She scratched her head and shrugged. “I’m sure those weren’t there a second ago.” She recognized two of the symbols as similar to letters (Runes). The first letter had a line carved through the center of it. A shiver ran through her body when she traced the last mark.

         She stretched and wiped the sleep from her eyes. “That dream was too flippin’ real for me!” She wrapped her comforter, dolphins swimming in an ocean, tight around her shaking body. “That creature, oh my gods, I’m so glad it was only a dream. I hope I never see that for real. Could’ve sworn I’ve seen that tower before though, but where?” Alexis rolled over and reached for a book on the shelf beside her bed.

         Alexis loved exploring the second floor at her parent’s bookstore. One evening, three summers ago, she had been rummaging through The Obsidian Bookstore storage room. The full moon’s light had flickered through a high window. A dusty wooden crate with Celtic-markings carved in the wood had caught her attention, and thirteen-year-old Alexis opened it and had found a brown faded book that was hidden amongst Greek Mythology books on the book case. All those years, Alexis still felt guilty for keeping the book a secret, but a little voice in the back of her mind had told her not to reveal her discovery to anyone, not even Caleigh.

         She pulled both herself and the book back onto the bed and leafed through the faded pages, until she found the sketch of three stone towers were surrounded by a forest of cedar and spruce. Just like in her dream. Those towers were real? Upon examining the sketch more closely, she noticed whimsical writing in the bottom left corner--Katrina and Leigh, 1664.

         She quickly got dressed in shorts and matching t-shirt. She grabbed her backpack and tossed it on her bed. “I wonder...” Alexis paused and then turned on her desk radio, the time flashing. She sat at the desk and scrawled the date and details of her dream into the pages of her journal.

Today is…Thursday, June 14, 1984. Last night’s dream. Too real. I know it wasn’t real, but still.

I was held prisoner in a circular chamber of stone bricks. But for what reason? I think dreams are a subconscious trick that your mind plays on you. What I don’t know is why anyone would capture me. I knew I was to escape, because as soon as I yelled (I’m surprised the screaming didn’t wake me or my parents) a door appeared. And that scary, winged creature... crawled out from it...oh my.... it was like the creatures in the comics that Brody reads in History. Note to self: Stop looking at Brody’s comics. What’s with markings on the stone wall? (runes) n d a n  What does it mean?

         Back to the tower sketch, why are the names (Katrina and Leigh) and that date (1664) so important? Heck, it’s just a drawing. Just a coincidence that I dreamt of the tower last night, but there’s no stone barrier in the sketch. Is that the wall that runs along Stoney Road? Perhaps, that’s another message along with those symbols carved in it. I was only 13 when I found that book. I wonder if the book is important. And what’s with the names? I’m almost 16. They are similar to the designs in the book that Mom gave me and Caleigh. Kinda Celtic. I think Mom knows something!

         

         Alexis hummed to the music, looked out her bedroom window and noticed a raven perched in the branch of the willow tree. Pen connected with the paper, and once again, she wrote more questions.

         

I wonder if Katrina is great-grandma?  But that date was so long ago...1664...320 years ago. What’s the connection? And who’s Leigh? It’s probably not. It can’t be. But it might be possible? I think I kinda look like Great-Gram Katrina.

         Alexis paused in her writing and nibbled on the end of the pen, thinking of more questions about the letter, distracted from her dream.

What if Mom knew that I’d found the old book with that sketch?

         Alexis closed her journal and then twirled the pen with her fingers for a few moments. She picked up her journal and returned to the bed. The sunlight from the eastern window warmed her face. Her backpack, with the three books inside, sat on her lap. She played with her honey-blonde hair.

         Alexis turned to a fresh page in her journal. She rested her chin on the back of her hand in thought and then brought the pen to the paper.

The towers, the wall and the markings are all symbolic. No idea what they mean but they are a message. They are connected, somehow with the book that Mom gave to both Caleigh and I. Where did the book really come from? The towers are linked to my dream. They are the ones in the book. I know it! The sketch is essential.

         She closed her journal, grabbed her backpack and left her bedroom.

***

         Blaine turned in his sleep. He muttered, “Time.” He sat up and looked out his bedroom window. The full moon’s light skipped over the ripples of the river. Four figures, cloaked in long, black robes, glided toward the fire-pit. The tallest of the four raised both hands over his head. The others stopped while the shortest man stole a quick glance at the house. Everyone else ignored the building, as if it didn’t exist. Should I hide or climb onto the roof for a closer look? It was as if the shortest man heard the question for he looked directly at him and slowly shook his head. Trust filled Blaine, and he felt a curious connection with the hooded stranger.

         One of the other men flicked his fingers at the fire-pit, and magically, a fire exploded within the rock circle. Blaine stumbled back in shock, but curiosity took over again. He moved back to the glass, faced pressed against the pane of the second floor window. He gasped in disbelief. Did he just start a fire with his hand?

         All of a sudden, an unattached shadow appeared and fluttered around the fire. It darted and skimmed among the men. The tallest man reached out, and the shadow wrapped itself around both arms, like a snake. Blaine shivered. The shadow paused for a moment and flitted toward another man. The creature wrapped itself around his arm and then circled the man for a short moment. It slithered over his hood, causing the cloth to slip and reveal shoulder-length, wavy-blond hair. Fixing the black hood, the man shook his head fiercely at the shadow.

         In astonishment, Blaine watched the interaction between the man and the shadow.  He couldn’t hear any words when the man opened his mouth. His gaze remained on the men as the shadow disappeared. Without a word, the four hooded figures vanished in silver mist.

         He rested his head on his pillow and looked up to the ceiling. The moonlight sprinkled through the bedroom window and the light from the hallway shone through the open door. Before his eyes, black lines mysteriously etched into the white ceiling tiles. The lines resembled letters yet were not. Drip. Drip. Drip. The shadow creature penetrated through the glass window, then floated to the ceiling and drifted around the markings, absorbing them. As suddenly as it entered, the Shadow disappeared into the blackness.

         Blaine awoke from his nightmare sweating and coughing. Between gasps for air, he spoke with pauses between his words. “What was that? That was weird. I swear I’ve never had a dream like that ever!”

         He climbed out of bed, moved to his desk and clicked play on his stereo. Guitar wonders of Jimmy Paige and Led Zeppelin filled the room. He grabbed a pen and his journal, beside a Greek mythology book, from his desk. He leafed through the pages until he found a blank sheet, and then recorded his dream.

         

June 14, 1984. Did the hooded man actually see me? What was that shadow thing all about? Did the man really control it and command it to leave? While I was dreaming, I was so confused – was I dreaming or truly looking out my window? Did I witness reality? Or was it a dream? I never wake up through the night. NEVER! What was the meaning behind the markings on the ceiling? They were like letters. S with straight lines. a but with angled lines. Diamond shaped with extra bits. What does it mean? (runes)

         Don’t get me started about last night’s walk along the river. I was in a trance or something. I think a visit with Brody may help. Maybe he can shine some light on my dream. He dreams of cloaked guys all the time. They could be the same freaks.

         Blaine sighed and closed his journal. The pen slipped from his fingers, rolled to the edge of the desk and dropped to the floor, but Blaine didn’t pick it up. He sat at his desk until the click signifying the end of the cassette. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a navy t-shirt, and then grabbed his jean jacket from the hook on the back of his door.