The Dream Snatcher Chronicles

By M. A. T. Blackthorne

Two brothers fight a man who invades dreams and corrupts the mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781365245817

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Chapter 1

Gretchen Goes to Nebraska

In the dream I sat on the porch behind the farmhouse, relaxing in the afternoon sun. Emily, the youngest of my siblings, played in the sandbox. She patted the mud into what I thought were random shapes—the mounds and hummocks spread out across the width and breadth of the sandbox.

Mark… A voice called.

Startled, I roused myself and looked at Emily. Mark was my middle name—never used unless someone, usually Mom or my older sister Gretchen, used it as a punctuation point when dealing with me. Perhaps Mom thought naming me after half the authors of the Canonical Gospels would result in better behavior.

Did you say something? I said.

Emily shook her head, scooping up a handful of dirt and dropping it into place. Nope.

Mark. The voice called again. Emily remained wrapped in her world.

I stood up and walked down the deck steps, listening. The name caused a faint, forgotten warning to rise to the surface of the dream and the sun itself seemed to grow dim in its wake. The sound originated from a narrow strip of bushes and trees that bordered the road. I took a few more steps and then spotted the body.

It lay underneath the arching branches of the lilac bushes, west of the farmhouse. From my vantage point I only saw the lower half of the body. Dread halted my footsteps, but one of the legs twitched and somehow knowing life remained in the unknown person set me in motion again. As I drew closer a decidedly feminine form came into view.

She wore jeans and a tattered shirt with growing red splotches. Behind her I spotted the outline of a trail where she had dragged herself up from the road. Bloodied leaves, dirt and twigs caked together in the oppressive summer heat.

Who or what did this to the girl?

I vainly hoped for the dream to change, to melt into another landscape as it so often did other nights. The scene remained, bars of iron, demanding that I do something. I knelt down next to her.

Blood trickled from a gash in her forehead, partially hidden by curly dark hair that framed her tan face and hung in ringlets around her ears. Bruises covered her neck.

Her hand grasped my arm with a startling swiftness and she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

Get me inside, she said.

I pushed the tide of questions to the background and told her to throw an arm over my shoulder.

You need a doctor, I said. I tagged on the last statement, not wanting to appear uncaring, but the scene before me still seemed far away—a lone tree against a backdrop of enormous gray hills.

He built things I’ve never seen… Her voice held firm and then her head rolled back on my shoulder.

She must be going into shock. Her small frame barely registered in my arms as I ran towards the house. I managed to throw open the front door with my finger tips. She still breathed, but it was shallow and quick.

Mom! Dad! I yelled. Jacob! I called for my brother.

No answer.

What’s wrong? Gretchen called from upstairs.

Oh, great, I muttered under my breath. Gretchen was the last person I wanted to seek for help. She spent most of her time bossing Jacob and me around when chores needed to be completed on the farm. Being the oldest daughter had its privileges it seemed.

I adjusted the girl into a more comfortable position in my arms and staggered up the stairs to Gretchen’s room. Gretchen lounged on the bed on her stomach, perusing a magazine. She seemed ready to spend the sultry afternoon doing absolutely nothing—comfortable in a wispy pink summer dress, blonde hair flung carelessly over her shoulders.

On the wall above her bed was a poster from the album cover of a rock band. A few days earlier, I had pestered her about the poster and she told me the title was Gretchen goes to Nebraska by a group called King’s X.

The owl in the picture perched on a rip in the fabric of Space. Its yellow eyes stared at me with an intensity that made my skin crawl. Beyond the owl was a road leading through a forest, and beyond that, a desert and a white castle, guarded by two moons that hung in low orbit.

Seeing Gretchen sitting beneath that picture made her seem a million miles away, as if at any moment the picture would grow and engulf the room, sweeping us away. And if the dream changed I no longer needed to concern myself with the girl dying in my arms.

What the heck is going on? Gretchen yelled, snapping the room back into focus. She did not look pleased at my abrupt entrance. Who is that?

She jumped up and shoved her books off the bed. Put her down!

I lay the girl down gently on the covers.

I found her under the lilac bushes, I said.

Well, who is she? Gretchen said.

I shrugged, trying to appear calm. I don’t know.

The girl coughed and a trickle of blood came out of the corner of her mouth. You forgot!

What did you forget? Gretchen demanded.

I don’t know! I said again.

I thought you would remember. The girl slumped against the pillow. Her eyes glazed over for a moment, but with a concentration of will they regained their intensity. Never mind. She struggled to reach down the neckline of her shirt. In my bra…

I reached toward her.

Don’t even think about it! Gretchen said, slapping my hand away. She reached down the girl’s neckline and under her shirt and fished out a folded piece of paper. One corner was soaked in blood.

Open it, the girl ordered.

Gretchen handed it to me and I unfolded the piece of paper. Rough sketches covered the paper and at the top was a north seeking arrow.

Your world, she whispered. The Seal didn’t keep them out… it only kept them from you. They’ve built things… see on the map.

I spotted Dad’s farm easily enough, and the nearby town of Greenville. Other markings bore no familiarity at all. A few miles north of the farm a square box was drawn. Operations was scrawled under it. To the northeast was a drawing of a house with the letters M.M. written under it. South of the farm, barely off our property line, was a drawing that looked like a trap door. The letters D.R.E.A.D. were written above it.

In Greenville proper, which was designated by a cluster of crudely drawn buildings, an arrow pointed down. Next to the arrow was a single word note, scrawled in shaky letters: Stedgate? At the very bottom of the paper was more of the girl’s writing: Who closed them?

A terrified shriek filled the room which came through an open window that looked onto the backyard. I slapped a hand to my forehead. Emily!

You left her alone? Gretchen yelled at me.

I… The girl cut off my flow of excuses by grabbing my wrist. She jabbed one bloody finger at the map. He’ll take her there. Get us into the car. I don’t have the power to shift us.

She clenched her teeth and her grip tightened on my wrist as if it were the only thing that kept her anchored to the dream.

Hurry, she said.

Gretchen looked at me in the ghastly silence that followed the termination of Emily’s scream.

Get the car keys, I said. And get her to the car. I’m going to see if Emily’s still down there!

I didn’t wait for her acknowledgement. I sprinted outdoors and around the house, my heart already telling me it was too late. The garden hose rested next to the sandbox, flooding the backyard. On the ground lay one of Emily’s hair ties.

I picked it up and then paused when I saw Emily’s handiwork in the sandbox. The map the girl had shown me was there, recreated in mud and sand. Rough letters under the mysterious waypoints showed where Emily had gouged the earth with a stick or her finger. D.R.E.A.D. Operations. M.M. Stedgate?

What is happening? I muttered. Frantic thoughts pried at me. I dropped Emily’s hair tie and ran to the front yard.

Gretchen sat in the rusted yellow station wagon by the time I arrived. The girl lay in the back seat, sprawled over most of its surface, but she’d left the car door open as if expecting me to sit in the back with her. I edged in carefully and slammed the door.

Where is Jacob? I asked. I was not worried about Mom and Dad or Michael. Something told me that whatever had taken Emily enjoyed a specific type of prey. Jacob was less than two years younger than I and I feared for him.

I don’t know, Gretchen said. I called for him in the house. Where’s Emily?

She wasn’t there. Get us out onto Morgan Mills road. The building the girl pointed to is out there.

Gretchen slammed the station wagon into reverse and roared down the driveway. She peeled out onto the road that intersected with Morgan Mills. She floored the accelerator as we sped down the hill.

The girl swayed with the rough movements of the car and then extended a hand towards me as the car hit the straightaway. She studied me with a half open eye. The other was swollen shut.

I’m Adrienne. She kept the hand extended. I took it tentatively, not saying anything. She didn’t release my hand.

What? I said, looking at our hands instead of her face.

You really don’t remember.

I didn’t say anything. The guilt welled up in my chest for a fault I could not name.

Say something, Adrienne commanded. I called you by your name, didn’t I? The name you chose in the event this ever happened. Mark.

That’s my middle name. No one calls me that.

So you forgot, she said. I suppose if you forgot everything else, then the name would mean nothing.

What did I forget? My hand felt clammy in her grip and the dried blood caked on her fingers began to mix with the sweat. I resisted the urge to pull my hand away.

I won’t talk through it, she said. Not enough time. There is a way to show you.

How?

Mind-sight. You allowed the memories to wither and die, like a branch withering and dying on a tree. That doesn’t mean there isn’t some life left in it. If I can give you the important parts it might start to grow again.

And if it doesn’t?

Adrienne grinned, her teeth flecked with blood. Then I’m no worse off than I was before I tried. I need you to re-grow the memories. Telling you about the memories and showing them to you produce very different fruit.

What do I do?

Nothing. Relax and realize that the things you see will all be from my perspective. You may see the entire sequence. You may see flashes of the past. You may see nothing. Ready?

I glanced at Gretchen’s face in the rear view mirror. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and remained focused on keeping the car from careening off the dirt road. The T-intersection to Morgan Mills road loomed up ahead.

Adrienne noticed my apprehension. Your sister will be fine. I’ll make this quick. I’m betting we’ll be back before she makes the turn.

Ok, I… I clamped my mouth shut, sensing the first pinprick of some foreign body trying to invade the stronghold of my mind.

Please, Adrienne said wearily, adjusting her grip on my hand. Don’t fight it. I don’t have the strength to force you to see this.

The stabbing sensation sank deep into my skull as I soothed the involuntary reaction of my mind to overthrow them. I blinked and darkness hung suspended before my eyes, Adrienne’s battered face a fading backdrop.

+++

White bars of light formed the structure before me and withered grass spread out around me, tapering down to an empty road. The iridescence that coated the objects in my view faded and I recognized where I stood.

The windmill on the abandoned property across the road from the farm.

The windmill jutted above the saplings that grew near its base, its tail sticking out like a snout, and the blades broken and rusted away. Directly in my line of sight I saw our farmhouse on the opposite side of the road. It seemed the lone beacon against a grim backdrop of threadbare trees. The tips of the tree branches pushed against the sky, pulsating. Black sap trickling out of them and into the sky until the darkness consumed the heavens.

I expected to see something in the darkness. Anything. A flash of insight with which to recognize my allies and enemies. Light to illuminate the past. The darkness continued on. Adrienne’s hand remained heavy and leaden against my own and I struggled to open my eyes, only to find the same weight pressed against my eyelids. The weight grew and gravity molded the darkness into fine points.

Two black arrows plunged into my eye sockets, their razor sharp tips striking deep. Poison coated the tips of those arrows, contaminating my memories with streams and eddies of events I could not place. The thoughts lodged deep in my skull, writhing and wriggling with a life all their own. A shape formed out of the black.

A man stood in a doorway, his sharp features rising like jagged rocks from bleak, crested waves. He wore slacks, a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a gray vest—all the clothing arrayed meticulously on his body. The man continued to move forward, walking across nothing to loom within my field of view. On his dangling left forearm I noticed a narrow script tattoo, the sharp hieroglyphics unlike any language or symbols I’d ever seen.

The Dream Snatcher. I did not have to fish for a name. I knew him.

On the outside I felt Adrienne falter, as if showing an image of the man summoned the man himself. Each of his movements produced a vital chord in his terrifying symphony—from the skeletal hand grasping the air to the foot creaking through the corridors of my mind to the blazing, shifting eyes. He knows we are thinking about him. I recoiled and pulled my hand from Adrienne’s grasp, trying to hide from his gaze.

+++

What did you see? Adrienne said. Her battered face hoped for a flicker of recognition, that life flowed to some long dormant memory within me.

I consider my next statement. Who is the… Dream Snatcher? The words made my mouth go dry.

So you saw him. Did you see anything else?

Yes, I saw him. I saw our farmhouse and the abandoned windmill. Briefly. Nothing else.

Adrienne turned her face away, disappointed. I Sealed you away from him when you were a child. Maybe eight years old. The way she said the word ‘seal’ made me capitalize it in my head. The Seal worked, after a fashion. It kept you from him, but he roams the Underlay freely.

She kept throwing out terms that held no meaning for me. Underlay?

Hang on, Gretchen said as she struggled to keep the car from bouncing off the road.

The Dream Snatcher caused nightmares in your Underlay while he searched— Adrienne said.

Yeah, Gretchen commented, interrupting Adrienne. She locked eyes with me using the review mirror. You spent a few of those nights boohooing in my bedroom.

I blushed. I don’t think she noticed, since we were both busy bracing for the T-intersection. Gretchen slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel to the left.

I kept myself from gravitating into Adrienne as Gretchen brought the car out of the turn. In his search for what?

Adrienne’s eyes flitted away. I don’t know. Not precisely at least. I thought he gave up his quest after I Sealed you away, she said. Now we have to face him together.

The possibility of confronting the man that had haunted my past caused my gut to twist in anticipation. The brief glimpse she provided through mind-sight stirred a cloud of murk up from the bottom of my soul.

Doesn’t matter what he’s after. We are stopping him and getting Emily back, Gretchen said.

I didn’t reply.

I’m going to go with you as far as I can, Adrienne said. But I don’t know how long I’ll last. The Seal will make it so the Dream Snatcher cannot interact with you.

What about Gretchen?

She and I aren’t afforded the same protection. If… She grimaced and then regained her composure. When we encounter him, we cannot give into his demands. I think it is possible to get Emily back without giving him what he wants.

We turned onto Morgan Mills. As we went further north, tall, thin pines began to line the road. A minute later we pulled into an empty parking lot, which was adjacent to a one-story office building. Faded moldy brown shingles dangled from the roof. Ugly orange letters decorated a wooden sign that hung above double glass doors. It stated simply: Operations.

I opened the car door, stepped out, and ran around to the other side to assist Adrienne. Gretchen exited and placed her hands on her hips.

He certainly isn’t trying to keep his location a secret, Gretchen said.

It is a method of marking his territory, Adrienne said, pointing at the sign. She hobbled forward. He knows you would avoid it if you ever encountered it.

The letters sharp angles and rotten tangerine color made me think she was right. Gretchen and I supported Adrienne between us as we pushed open the glass doors into the building. We entered a narrow hallway where a single electric bulb clung to the ceiling. Chips of white paint fell off the wall and fluttered to the ground when I brushed too close. The door at the end of the hall looked about to fall off its hinges.

I took a deep breath and tried to swallow down the terror rising in my throat. Gretchen did not hesitate. When we reached the end of the hall, she turned the doorknob with her free hand and flung it open.

The room beyond the hall looked like some sort of reception area. A counter ran the width of the room, cutting it in half. Behind the counter lay stacks of paper and other office supplies on desks. The cleanliness and organization made me imagine men in business suits and briefcases striking deals while secretaries in pencil skirts and blouses wrote notes for them. Even unoccupied the office made me feel odd and out of place in my raggedy jeans and t-shirt. Behind the desk lay another door. It swung open of its own accord.

Adrienne tensed between us.

He’s here.

I looked around the room and through the open door at the end of the office, but saw no one.

Where is our sister Emily? Gretchen demanded. I looked at her and around the room again, trying to fathom the object of her conversation.

Who are you talking to? I hissed.

Gretchen and Adrienne ignored me. Gretchen extended her hand and carefully flipped up the countertop to reach the second half of the room. Her eyes remain fixed on the open door.

We know you took Emily, Gretchen said. Where is she?

I can’t see him! I said.

We know, Adrienne whispered, finally acknowledging me. He can’t see you either. Remember the Seal. It holds as long as you will it to hold.

How do I bring it down?

Don’t! We’ll be intermediaries, Adrienne said. Gretchen edged us through the gap in the counter and towards the open door at the end of the office. We passed through into the next room, compelled by our unseen host. I don’t know where he stood but I knew that the closer our proximity the harder it became to resist the urge to run and leave the Operations building behind me.

Yet even his ghastly presence paled in comparison to what awaited us in the next room. Our footsteps echoed against smooth, gray cement and hammered off the whitewashed walls. Directly in front of us stood a door—a plain door with a bronze handle. Nothing else. I halted when I spotted the door, forcing Gretchen and Adrienne to stop with me.

Something waited behind the door. A tormentor that dealt in death—a being from beyond our world that existed only to snuff out the life around it. A warning seared itself across my mind, burned deeper than a hot brand. A million voices shrieked at me to flee and hide.

Gretchen and Adrienne seemed oblivious to the threat. She kept looking at one corner of the room.

What do you want? Gretchen said, continuing her conversation with no one I could see. Give us Emily and we’ll… STOP!

Adrienne began to choke. She released her hold on our shoulders and pried at her neck. Her face turned red and she kicked her feet as the unseen force propelled her backwards and slammed her into the wall.

I raised my hand to help her, thinking that the unseen force—the Dream Snatcher—might be stopped in his assault against Adrienne. The Seal operated on a rule that broke foundational rules of physics, for our bodies occupied the same space and time yet we pass right through each other.

Physics mean nothing in a dream.

I felt a sensation in my arm, maggots crawling over the surface of a putrid wound, then nothing.

Gretchen raised her hands in compliance. If you give us Emily back, I’ll go through. Now let Adrienne go!

She moved towards the terrifying door at the end of the room.

Gretchen, you can’t! I shouted. It’s the Dream Snatcher! I don’t care what he said—he can’t be trusted!

Gretchen ignored me and turned to the door. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Just get Emily back home.

Don’t go, I said. I hesitated, torn between the girl clawing vainly at her neck and the sister who refused to listen. We’ll find another way!

Gretchen paused before replying, indicating that the Dream Snatcher had said something. Something reassuring, full of promises. Don’t worry. I’ll be ok.

No! No, you won’t be! I shouted.

It’s ok, Gretchen said. Just get Emily back. I heard the firmness in her voice. Emily needed to be saved and nothing else mattered.

Gretchen stepped up to the door and turned the handle. Cancerous darkness waited patiently within the boundaries of the door frame, but as soon as she flung the door open it attempted to break free. Tendrils pushed out and curled over the white paint, leaving behind sickly swirls of charcoal and ash. A reddish hue engulfed Gretchen and her face sank towards her chest and she moved towards the door, one slow step at a time.

The door is drawing her in! Stop her! Drop the Seal and face the Dream Snatcher!

The being on the other side of the door tugged at Gretchen, bending my world to its will in one tremendous groan. A crack formed in the ceiling above the door and split into intermediaries that dropped dust and chips of cement into my eyes. I tried to rush forward, but gravity crushed down on me, a pressure that covered every square inch of my body. I managed to take one faltering step. Around Gretchen’s figure I caught a glimpse of whirling gears and moving levers sliding through the silky black of the open door.

Gretchen, don’t do it! I yelled.

She stepped through without hesitation. The darkness swallowed her body as each portion moved over the doorstep until her heel passed through and she was gone. I stared in dumb horror and moved towards the door, perhaps with the intention to go after her, perhaps with the intention to slam the door shut and keep the monstrosity on the other side from invading my world. I never got the chance.

Gretchen’s body flew out of the door and slammed into me. The force of her body knocked me to the floor. The door snapped shut of its own accord, finding her a disagreeable morsel.

Gretchen! I said. No response. Behind me, I heard Adrienne’s body slump to the floor. A bloody gurgle escaping from her lips, then silence. When I turned my head, her body was gone. Only Gretchen and I remained in the room.

I struggled to my feet and felt Gretchen’s forehead. The chill on her skin turned my finger tips numb, as if she’d been blasted into the frigid reaches of space before returning to me.

I stared blindly in front of me, cursing my cowardice. I should have dropped the Seal and taken my chances with the Dream Snatcher. I remembered that stupid poster from her bedroom. Gretchen goes to Nebraska. He sent her there, some distant destination that lay beyond my ability to reach. I picked up her body and half dragged, half carried it into the first office. As my hand reached for the door that provided the only exit out of the building, I spied a note taped in the exact center of the door. My heart thudded as I read it.

Boy,

Your sister is no longer a part of your quaint little world. Oh, certainly, you’ll wake up and everything will appear fine. Just remember that we are more than physical and I place all of my bets heavily on the side of the unseen. I’m sure Adrienne told you about the monuments, but what she does not know is that I’ve had seven years to carve them out, great structures that rest on the foundation of your mind. If they give me what I want remains to be seen. Oppose me during this tenuous time and what happened to your sister will seem like mercy in comparison.

-The man in the basement

P. S. You’ll find that I keep my word. Emily is outside waiting for you. She serves no purpose for me and I’m about to lock out everyone else. It will just be you. And me.

I exited the building, dragging Gretchen’s lifeless body, ignoring the feeling that the Dream Snatcher stood and watched.

Any hope I had about the sunlight warming Gretchen proved futile. She remained icy to the touch. Near the station wagon, Emily waited, playing in the gravel. She watched me as I carefully put Gretchen’s body into the passenger seat and buckled her in.

What happened? Emily cried. Is something wrong with her?

I pulled Emily up from the gravel parking lot and hugged her, not saying anything for a short while.

We need to go, I said, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

Is Gretchen going to be ok? What about Jake?

I blinked back tears. Gretchen is going to be ok. Jake’s still here. Somewhere. I didn’t know what else to tell her.

We pulled out of the parking lot and I watched the building grow smaller in the rear view mirror. The Dream Snatcher’s promise of retribution would not hold me captive. Adrienne’s panic stricken face as she struggled to fight the unseen adversary and the unmoving body in the passenger seat next to me ensured that the war would be coming to him as surely as he had brought it to me. The orange Operations sign disappeared behind the scraggly pine trees.

I revoke the Seal, I whispered.

The Waking World

I did not discuss the dream with anyone for a week or so, expecting it to quickly fade from memory. The eeriness of the incident at the Operations building only grew more haunting.

Adrienne’s mind-sight in the dream must have worked because I began to recall other memories from my childhood. I remembered darkness in the wee hours of the morning with Mom sitting by my bedside while I sobbed about some horrifying nightmare. The nightmare always involved the basement, and a powerful hand placed on my head, forcing it to the basement floor—and I remembered a noise. The sound of gigantic gears grinding together.

This scenario had played out many times—my mother in her nightgown, face bleary from sleep, assuring me that it was just a bad dream. She’d give me a sleeping aid. Mela—? Mela— something. I didn’t know its name anymore.

She’d tell me that St. Giles was the patron saint of peaceful dreams and that I should pray to him. I did pray, but it never did any good.

How had I forgotten?

Despite the new memories, I took no action. The nights continued to tick by and every dream revolved around my inept attempts at trying to find that something that was missing.

I knew it was Gretchen, but the strength of my denial forced the realization back into a corner. The dream could not have any effect on our everyday life. Right?

That line of thinking worked until one night where I dreamt that, in my usual cycle of searching, I happened to wandered upstairs and discovered Gretchen’s pale, freezing body lying in her bed, in the exact place and position I had left it after our encounter in the Operations building. The dreams pushed back with an insistence that refused to be ignored.

That day I decided to confide in Jacob while doing barn chores.

Jake shoveled a scoop of pig manure over the side of the pen and let it land with a disgusting Splat! inside the wheelbarrow.

So let me get this straight, he said. He leaned his skinny frame against the fence and blew a wad of snot onto the cement floor. A group of relatives had visited a few days ago and left us all with a nasty head cold—at the end of summer vacation nonetheless. He wiped his hands on his blue coveralls. You had these nightmares for years and they suddenly stopped when this dream girl saved you and now the guy that caused the nightmares is back and he took Gretchen?

"Well, I guess he took a