Night Dreams: The Complete Series Box Set

By A. Lopez, Jr

Dreams Inspire Us . . . Nightmares Change Our Lives

If you had a gift giving you the power to enter someone's nightmares, would you help them, even if it meant they could die from your actions?

Joseph Rickette's discovers as a young boy, he has that gift. Soon after, he must decide if he should use it to save his mother from the demon tormenting her in her dreams. His experiences in the dream world as a child propel him to become a dream psychologist, and when his gift resurfaces, he must decide again if he should use it to intervene and help his patients who battle the insidious entities in their dreams.

His world is turned upside down when his wife, Andrea, begins to have her own nightmares, forcing them to reveal the dark secrets from their past. Together, they battle the demon stalking her and soon discover that it is much too powerful to handle alone. They seek the help of a priest who specializes in exorcisms. This leads Joseph down a dark and dangerous path looking for the answers to end their torment. He discovers that the one holding the key to peace is waiting for him at the fiery gates of Hell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Lopez, Jr
• Release date: Jan 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370790449

A. Lopez, Jr

Born and raised in Texas and now residing in Arizona. I am an avid reader and big Houston Sports Fan. I play chess everyday when I'm not squeezing in a little time for writing. I published my first work Purgatory - 13 Tales of the Macabre and Floor Four - A Novella of Horror, an Amazon Bestseller in Occult Horror. Also completed is Night Dreams, an episodic series in seven parts that can be read separately or in one complete novel. My column, 'Ask AJ', appeared in All Authors Magazine online and I have had short stories published on Dark River Press, The Sirens Call eZine Issue #14 and the anthologies, State of Horror Illinois published by Charon Coin Press and Concordant Vibrancy published by All Authors Publishing. You can connect with me on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and my website, alopezjr.com.

Book preview

NIGHT DREAMS

A NOVEL

A. LOPEZ, JR.

ACE-HIL-INK

DEPARTURE

Night time anticipation

Sweet sleep . . . intoxication

Haunting images pulling me deeper

Now in the grasp of the grim reaper

Feeling stuck . . . a silent scream

Wait . . . wait, it’s just a dream

Reality . . . not as it seems as time ticks

He lures me in with his lies and tricks

WAKE UP…WAKE UP before I die

Life flashing before my eyes

Desperate, I cry out for help

But no one can save me from myself

~ Julie Falcione ~

PART ONE

THE BEGINNING

PROLOGUE

The time is 10:35 a.m. July 14, 2012. I am with my patient, Claire Botkins, for her second session, the doctor noted. You may start now, continue where we left off, or tell me about your latest dream.

Okay, thank you, she said, sitting up in the chair. Each dream starts the same. It’s a normal Thursday morning, garbage pick-up day, and I am getting ready for work, she continued. I am upstairs finishing my hair and makeup when I can hear the sound of the big truck coming down the road.

That’s how it starts, and now it is getting worse. Each time I have the dream, he is getting closer to me, Claire, mother of one, told her psychologist, Dr. Joseph Rickettes.

When you say him, the doctor asked, you mean the man on the truck?

Yes . . . and this last time, he was at the top step of my porch and looking straight at me through the window in my door. I could see his face. His face was… she hesitated.

His face was what, Claire? the doctor asked.

It was evil . . . pure evil, she said, with fear and concern in her eyes. She shook her head as if to tell the doctor there was no way he could understand what she was going through.

Joseph Rickettes, thirty-eight-years-old and now thirteen years in practice as a psychologist, listened closely, taking in every word. Dr. Rickettes, a dream psychologist, specializing in listening to his patient's nightmares and helping them find the answers to cure them of their debilitating illness.

Claire is his first patient since his last attempt, a couple of years prior, at helping someone with their demons. Hearing her delve deeper into her dream immediately reminded him of the worst of times in his past.

He looked at me like… she tried to continue.

Distracted by his own thoughts, Joseph abruptly ended Claire's session. I am very sorry, Claire, but I must end the session at this point.

Stunned, Claire looked at the doctor, offended at first, but she could see something was wrong.

You will not be charged for this session or the next, but please come back in a couple of days, he told her.

Seeing a look of despair on his face, she nodded, walked to the door, and turned. Are you all right? she asked.

He waved his hand, barely making eye contact. I apologize, but I’m fine, thank you.

She left, closing the door behind her.

Thinking he may not be ready to do this again, his thoughts drifted back to when it all started.

Donald Joseph Rickettes graduated from the University of Pennsylvania, one of the top universities in psychology in the country, with honors in 1996 and started his practice nearly four years later. He built his practice on referrals and it eventually grew into a very stable business.

In 2001, he married his college sweetheart, Andrea, and the two lived happily for the next seven years outside of Pittsburgh . . . before her dreams started.

Andrea's dreams were nothing out of the ordinary, but did gradually become darker and more ominous. She didn’t feel the need to tell Joseph about them—she didn’t know of his special gift—and she thought the bad dreams would pass. However, after two months, even she had to admit it wasn't getting better, in fact, it was only getting worse. If she was lucky, she would only suffer through a bad dream once or twice a week.

Andrea finally told Joseph about the dreams, and as always with anything involving her, he listened with an open mind. She wasn’t specific at first, but over time, he coaxed the details from her and learned how they drove her fear. Being a psychologist, he knew how to gain his patient’s trust and helped bring out their inner fears, but this was different—Andrea was not a patient.

She was his wife.

As he delved deeper into her dreams, he realized how serious it was, and Andrea sometimes trembled as she spoke of the demon in her nightmares. She would often pause when she described the thing stalking her.

Joseph knew he had to help her. The signs were clear that her dreams would continue to spiral out of control. To help her, he would have to reveal the secret he carried—the secret from a long time ago, when he was a child. He had suppressed his gift for many years, but knew it would resurface at some point in his life.

That time was now.

Andrea continued, This thing is dark and tall, except for those eyes. Its eyes are blood-red and filled with evil and hatred. She stood and put her arms out, extending her fingers. It has claws for fingers and hoofs for feet. She paused again. I know it's the devil.

She looked at her husband, no longer afraid of what he thought or what he might say. She had finally let it out, and no longer had to hide her secret.

Looking back to the past, even if for a moment, was difficult, considering all that had happened. He couldn’t believe how fast time had passed and as he sat back in his leather chair, momentarily putting aside the thoughts of his wife, he reflected on his childhood.

1

THE BEGINNING

Soon after Joseph Rickettes turned thirteen, he discovered something about himself, something he had only suspected before. Growing up, he always felt there was something different about him, but never understood or knew exactly what it was. Now, something had changed, his instinct, even at his age, was sharp and things became clearer. Realizations became part of his reality and he was starting to understand the things his mother was going through.

Since he could remember, his mother, Patricia, always looked tired. He never knew why, but on the very rare days he saw her without makeup, he noticed the dark rings under her eyes.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would hear her screaming in her room down the hall. This always scared him, and he would cower under his blanket, praying that whatever scared her, would not get him.

His parents never talked about it and he never asked. It didn't happen every night, but in the mornings after, they would sit at breakfast as if nothing had happened. They seemed happy, and despite knowing something was wrong, it made him feel better to see them smiling.

One night, a week after his thirteenth birthday, he couldn't sleep, maybe from the excitement of being a teenager, or just the fact that it was summer break and he didn't have to wake up early for school. Either way, he was awake, and as he left the bathroom just down the hall from his parent's room, he could hear them talking.

With their bedroom door slightly ajar, he heard his father, Bill, talking to his mother in a calming tone. Joseph eased over to the doorway and pressed his ear as close as he could to the door.

Patricia, I know, I know. We have to get you help. These dreams are just too much for you to handle on your own anymore, his father said. Joseph couldn't see them, but he knew his father well and could see him in his mind, sitting up and leaning over to his mother, trying to reassure her. We have to get you some help. You are being affected by this in a very bad way.

I don't want to involve anyone else, Bill. We will get through this, she told him.

But you just told me that this monster, this thing, slashed your throat just as you woke up? he said, his voice carrying a genuine concern and fear. He heard them stirring on the bed and thought about running to his room. Instead, he stayed and his mother spoke.

Yes. The thing in my dream chased me like it always does and I can usually get away by running around the corner of the hall. Only this time, when I rounded the corner, he was standing right in front of me.

Chills ran up and down Joseph's spine. Even if he wanted to run, he couldn't.

His mother continued, It's standing in front of me as I stop just before I run into it. I can't see its face because of the shadows. I'm shaking with fear, but can't run. I can smell the rotten stench. Finally, my senses come back to me and just as I try to turn and run it grabs at me and I try to push it away, but it’s too strong. Her breathing became labored, and Joseph realized he was holding his breath.

Maybe we should stop now, take a break, his dad said.

No! You know I have to tell it all. I have to get it out of my head! The loud and urgent tone in her voice startled Joseph.

Joseph was young, but even he could tell this wasn't the first time his parents had been through this.

It grabs me and turns me to face him. Now I'm only inches away. It has no eyes and I can smell its breath. I feel helpless and afraid as he pulls out a long knife and . . . he raises it up high. I want to scream but can't, and I close my eyes.

Joseph, listening in stunned silence, realizes he has to pee again.

Just as my eyes close I feel the knife slice my throat. And that's when I wake up screaming, she said, her breath still heavy, but relieved. She always felt better after talking about her nightmares and getting the poison out of her.

There was silence in the room.

Joseph wanted to peek around the door to see her expression. He was now afraid, out in the dark hall all alone.

His dad allowed her to finish before he spoke. The silence was killing young Joseph and his knees began to shake.

Finally, his father spoke, It's gonna be all right. It's gonna be all right.

Is my throat cut? she said, quickly grasping her neck. I feel like he cut me.

No, there is nothing there. You are not cut, Patty. He pulled her hands away from her throat and put them into his. The confusion and fear he saw on her face told him he needed to get her help now. Wait here, Patty. He let go of her hands. I need to check on Joey.

Hearing that, Joseph broke from his rigid state, and turned and sprinted as quietly as he could back to his room and into the comfort and safety of his bed. He covered his head and waited, until he heard soft footsteps on the wooden floor getting closer. He remained still, his eyes shut tight, when he felt his dad adjust the cover over his shoulder. Not saying a word, his dad walked away and closed the door behind him.

He sat up in bed and recalled every detail from his mother's dream. He could again hear the fear in her voice as he replayed her words, and although he was secure in his bed, it still frightened him.

That night changed Joseph’s life forever.

He heard screams coming from his parent's room before, that was frightening enough, but now he knew why. Hearing his mother talk about her nightmares was like turning on a light in his head—in fact, it did. Joseph didn't understand what it actually meant until he fell asleep that night.

After drifting into a deep sleep in the outside world, all was well—just an innocent boy sleeping in his bed. In his dream though, it was anything but normal and innocent.

Joseph walked down the pitch-black hall towards the far end. Walking cautiously, he paused when he thought he saw something move in the dark corner.

He stared into the blackness and saw the shadows move again. The window at the end of the hall let in a trace of light, illuminating a small spot in the middle of the hall floor. The slightly comforting light only made the corners on either side of the window even darker.

Everything around him seemed hazy, as if he was standing in a light fog. He knew this was a dream. But if it was a dream, it shouldn't feel this real, he thought.

The thing in the corner grew taller and wider, extending to the edge of the window, blocking some of the light. This made things very real now and Joseph moved his feet at an angle to turn and run. He thought of his parents and hoped they would wake up and come into the hall. He wanted someone to save him from this thing in the dark.

Instead of running, he grew more curious.

Its movements mesmerized him as the shadow now rose to the ceiling and blocked half of the window. He looked to his left and realized he was right in front of his half-open bedroom door. He looked in. He had to focus and refocus, shaking his head when he saw himself sleeping in his bed, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. For a moment, the thing at the end of the hall no longer mattered.

He looked down at his hands, turning them palm side up. They weren't his hands. These hands were larger with the fingers slender and long with a shiny, gold ring on the third finger. He raised them and felt his face. It felt strange, looking down at what should have been his body, but wasn’t. Total disbelief came over him. He looked into his room again and saw himself, still sleeping in his bed. Confused, he almost passed out. He needed a mirror to see and make sense of this.

He decided to focus in the other direction, and the true danger hit him when he saw the monster growing and moving towards him. He could now smell its foul odor, and it was so bad, his eyes burned. His instinct told him to turn and run.

He ran straight to his parent's room and right into the locked door. He shook it frantically, banged on it, and got no answer. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the dark figure moving closer.

There was no time to wait. He left the door and ran to the other end of the hall. Without looking back, he turned the corner to go down the stairs and saw the monster, the devil, the thing, standing in front of him. Time seemed to slow and he got a good look at the biggest thing he had ever seen. Instinct kicked in again and he turned to run, but the thing grabbed him—now, only inches from its face, he could smell its breath and finally see its eyes. He was helpless and so afraid. The monster pulled out a long knife and raised it up over him.

Joseph wanted to scream, but couldn’t, and closed his eyes.

Just at that moment, he realized this was exactly how it happened in his mother’s dream.

Joseph did the only thing he knew to do, yell at the top of his lungs and kick at his foe. He kicked its leg and threw it off balance just enough for the blade to miss his throat and body altogether.

Joseph woke up suddenly from his nightmare and sat up in bed, full of sweat. His mind raced in a thousand directions as he looked around his room at the half-open door. Darkness and silence waited in the hallway beyond the door. He turned on the lamp and pulled the covers up around him as he sat up against the headboard.

Trying to make sense of it all, Joseph focused on what had just happened. He had the same dream as his mother, he was certain of it, and certain he was in the dream as her, in her body. Despite the fear caused by the dream, he felt a rush of adrenaline that made him smile, realizing he did something his mother didn’t do before she was cut by the knife. He had changed what happened to her by his reaction and movement in kicking it. The monster’s knife missed him, or her.

Can it be? Can I really change what happened in mom’s dream?

Joseph was a smart kid, and for him to think this far ahead was not unusual. He sat up in bed and threw the covers aside. The fear that had taken over just minutes before had now subsided and a renewed sense of excitement now filled his mind. He didn’t think anymore . . . he knew he could change the outcome of his mother’s dream, and maybe, help her end her nightmares. The problem with that was, he would have to face the thing in the dream again.

Could he really have the same dream again? The possibilities overwhelmed him. His first thought was to go back to sleep and find a way to change the dream. He just didn't know if it would really work. All of it was confusing, yet very exciting, but he knew he had to try again. He dozed off for moments at a time, but he never fell into a deep sleep. Although this made him tired the next morning, he was full of excitement. He kept it all to himself at the breakfast table—neither of his parents suspecting he had heard her tale of the nightmare.

After breakfast, he planned to spend his day at the library looking up information on how dreams worked, and to find out anything on people changing their dreams.

He sat down, began reading, and soon discovered there was too much information for a kid his age to take in. Most of the info was too technical and too advanced for him. He did find a number of things detailing how dreams manifest, but found nothing about altering them.

Disappointed, he left the books on the table and walked to the horror section. He thumbed through the likes of Lovecraft, Hitchcock, and Poe and felt he hit another dead-end, not understanding the deep meanings crafted in their words and stories.

As he left the library, he ran into his friend, Mark.

I know you’re smarter than me, but I never see you up here on a Saturday, his friend said.

How's it going, Mark? He didn't want to tell him the real reason he was there. Had to check on something, he said.

Mark's mom waved at Joseph from the reception desk. Come on, let's act like we’re looking for books so I can get away from my mom, Mark suggested.

Joseph thought about it for a second, then nodded. He had a lot on his mind, but being with his friend helped clear his head.

The time he spent with Mark at the library was just what he needed to reset everything from the night before. He sat at the desk in his room, and thought of all the possibilities.

I know I had the same dream as mom, that is something that is very possible, he thought. And I did change how it ended, but how do I make it change for her? Do I tell her what to do, or how I did it? No, I can't. She will know I know and I'll never get the chance to help her again.

Later, looking out his window, he dug deeper into thoughts of how he could make it work, or at least see if he could do more than change the dream . . . maybe end it. He needed to get back into her dream again and the only way was by sleeping. He had to help his mom, no matter the danger.

Sound carried well in their house and that night he sat up in bed listening to his parents talk, as they did most nights, He threw the sheets aside and quietly made his way to the door to hear better. They only spoke of their day and about paying bills, boring stuff. After hearing them say their good nights, he climbed back in bed, intending to reenter his mom's dream.

Joseph found himself in the dark hallway, again standing still, everything from the last dream coming back to him. Looking down at his hands, he noticed again that they were not his. Then, it appeared just as before, manifesting in the corner near the window. His chest heaved in and out, fear and apprehension taking over. As the thing grew larger, ways to stop it ran quickly through his mind. At this point, there was not much he could do unless he had experience with exorcisms.

Finally, the demon had fully manifested and Joseph turned to run as before. Just as he took his second step, everything went dark and a scream from down the hall woke him . . . his mom. He sat up in bed, frightened, and quickly threw his covers back and walked to his doorway. He could hear his parents talking, but could not make out the words. He tiptoed the short distance down the hall to his parent's doorway. Leaning forward, Joseph listened.

I'm here, I got you, Bill said to Patricia, holding her close.

It was exactly like the others, except, she paused in thought, this time when I saw his face, I could see its anger. When I saw that, it scared me more and I reacted by kicking at it, and this time when he swung the blade down, it missed me. She looked at Bill with a realization. I changed how I reacted this time. She sat up straight. For whatever reason, I kicked it and it missed me. Bill, this is the first time I’ve been able to react against it. Her eyes filled with excitement.

Joseph listened closely from the other side of the door.

I mean, this all must make me sound crazy, but every time I have had the dream before, I was helpless. This time, I felt as if I had some control. She paced the room.

Joseph’s adrenaline got his blood pumping faster thinking he had changed her dream. It was hard to believe, and so much to try to understand, but one thing was for sure, he could help her.

He heard enough and quietly eased back down the hall to his room and closed the door. Joseph grabbed a pencil and an old spiral notebook from his desk drawer and wrote down everything he could remember. He scribbled on his notepad for what seemed like hours, and after a while, he turned off his lamp to secretly write by the light of his flashlight.

After jotting down everything he remembered, he began to get sleepy, and put the pencil down before climbing into bed. He shook his head, wondering if this was all really possible.

His mother didn’t know how she got the power to fight back. As Joseph and his mother both felt the helplessness in the dream, running was the only thing they could do. It was as if an oppressive, dark aura hovered over them, leaving running away as the only hope, the only chance to get away.

Thinking about this second dream, puzzled him. The only way in was when his mom wasn’t sleeping. At least that’s what his tired mind came up with just before he fell asleep, his flashlight still shining bright in his hand.

2

FISHING TRIP

The next day, he walked through a tree-lined park under a bright and sunny sky. Up ahead, he saw a crowd of people gathered in a circle. As he walked towards them, he grew more curious and he quickened his pace. The sunny day started to fade, and soon, small water drops pelted him from above. He glanced up at the rainy sky. Everything had changed.

Only a few feet from the crowd, a powerful clap of thunder shook the ground. The people, dressed in black, had their backs to him as he stood behind them. In his haste to see what they were looking at, he pushed past a couple of men, separating them with his hands to get a better look. He came to a dead stop when he saw the casket. A priest presided over the group with his father weeping in a chair in front. Thunder and lightning struck again. Rain poured from above.

We gather now to pay our respects to Patricia Ann Rickettes, the priest said.

Those words nearly stopped Joseph’s heart.

He woke up afraid, sweating, and disoriented. He had dreamed his mother’s funeral. Now he really feared for his mother’s life, and if he didn’t figure out something real soon, he was sure she would die at the hands of the demon in her dreams.

Joseph was glad to hear his mother’s voice down the hall. In one night, something that excited him, and brought out every possibility imaginable, had now turned grim. He washed his face and brushed his teeth before going to the kitchen.

His parents sat at the table having coffee and toast, and he couldn’t help but smile when his tired eyes saw his mother alive and well. That last dream changed his perspective on what must be done and how he would treat life in general—heavy stuff for a kid.

Good morning, sunshine, his mother told him with a smile. She patted the seat of the chair next to her for him to join them.

Normally, he would pass on that offer, get what he needed from the fridge and go watch TV, but this morning he was happy he could sit down next to her.

Hi, Mom, was all he said, as he sat down and grabbed a piece of toast. He looked into his mother’s eyes for a sign of worry, but as usual, his mother hid it well.

Hey, Joey, his dad called him Joey, want to go fishing later?

Joseph nodded yes, but it wasn’t something he was looking forward to, considering where his mind was about his mother. He had too much thinking and planning to do, but what could he do . . . say no?

Good. We can go to that old store, the one you like, and pick up some snacks on the way. What do you say? his dad asked.

Joseph nodded again and took a bite of his toast.

His mother smiled.

The fishing trip went well and Joseph actually had fun. For the most part, he was able to forget the demon in his mother’s dream, and really enjoyed the time with his father. They proudly caught a couple of big bass—big enough to keep—and brought them home for dinner.

On the road home, his thoughts went right back to the dream of his mother’s funeral. It told him that his mother’s dream might end in a very bad way real soon, and it might already be too late to change it. He still didn’t understand how or why, but through his dreams, he was sure he could see the future and change things.

Once home, his father told him to jump in the shower and they would start dinner.

Showering helped clear his head, but he still felt overwhelmed at the thought of everything he had experienced, and at the thought of the power he may have, too much for anyone to take on, no matter their age.

Joseph walked into the living room and heard the familiar laughter of a rerun of All In The Family, one of his father’s favorite shows. He glanced at the screen, smiled, and headed for the kitchen, when the sound of frying fish brought a smile to his face and he playfully rubbed his stomach.

Before making it into the kitchen, he could hear his parents whispering. He stopped and tried to listen in, with no luck. This was not like him, but the last couple of days had changed that.

They must have sensed he was near and ended their conversation.

Joseph walked in, meeting his dad in the doorway.

Hey, son, I was just coming to check on you. Our hard work out there at the fishing hole is almost ready. He took his hand and ruffled his son’s wet hair.

It smells real good, Joseph said, looking up at his father.

He gave his mother a hug as she flipped a piece of golden brown fish in the frying pan. She used her free hand and embraced him with a smile.

He sat at the table and pretended to look at his magazine, wondering what his parents were whispering about.

3

NAP TIME

Tired from the long day of fishing, Joseph went to his room early that night and sat up in bed pretending to read a book. If he was right, based on the last dream, he couldn’t help his mother by dreaming at the same time as her. He had to change her dream before she had the nightmare again.

This meant, if he didn’t find a way to help her before then, she could die, which could be tonight, he thought.

He jumped out of bed and paced the room, second-guessing himself for thinking he could save her life this way. For all he knew, it might only be a nightmare and nothing more.

The sound of dishes clinking downstairs caught his ear as he pulled the curtain aside and looked out at the front yard and street. Chairs slid across the wooden floor as his parents finished cleaning up the kitchen. He knew it wouldn’t be long until they were headed upstairs, and not long after that, would they be getting ready for bed. He didn’t have much time.

Dejected and lost, he sat on the edge of his bed, with too much on his mind to fall asleep.

He could only hope his mother would sleep peacefully and not go into her nightmare.

Joseph woke up startled and looked at his bedside clock. The red numbers read 03:15 a.m.—he had been asleep for three hours. Mad at himself for falling asleep, he got up and again tiptoed to his door and peered into the pitch-black hallway, listening for any sounds coming from his parent’s room.

Everything was quiet except for a creaking sound coming from the darkest end of the hall. Now suddenly overcome with fear that he may be dreaming, he dared not look to the dark end. Instead, he slowly eased his head back into his room and closed the door. He tried to keep the latch from clicking into place, but in his nervous state, his hand slipped off the knob and the door slid its last inch closed. The sound of the metal parts clicking into place loudly filled the room and the hallway.

Standing still, he listened for any sounds coming from the other side of the door. Hearing nothing, he rubbed his face and arms, trying to figure out if he was dreaming, and as he calmed down and let the fear subside from his mind, he realized, he was awake. Usually, if his mother had a bad dream, she woke up screaming, and that always woke him up. But this time, he awoke on his own, and he hoped it meant she was okay.

Planning to stay awake for the rest of the night, he turned on his lamp and took out a book he found at the used bookstore in town. The old musty paperback titled Nightmares of the Mind, was about people and their attempts to end their own nightmares. Although it didn’t deal with an outside person being able to help with someone’s dreams, he found some things interesting. The author was a doctor, so most of what he read, he didn’t understand, but it only cost a quarter, so it was worth the price.

He read the pages, skipping a few here and there, picking out the parts he thought mattered most. Every few minutes, he would pause and listen for his parents.

Silence each time.

After a couple of hours, Joseph dozed off, the book long since toppled over and face down on his lap.

He pried his eyes open and glanced at his window, noticing the rising sun. He made it through the night, bringing him comfort in his tired state, and went back to sleep.

The sunny day brought with it a clear blue sky. Joseph walked along a tree-lined path, something like a park. Suddenly, the sky turned dark and gray. Water drops fell on his head. Looking up, he realized how familiar it all was and he quickly turned his attention straight ahead to the gathered crowd dressed in black. Panic came over him and he ran to them as fast as he could. The rain came down in sheets now. He tried to run harder, to run faster, but felt as if he was running in place. Wanting to cry out, he dug down deeper and tried harder to get to his mother’s funeral before it was too late.

His hair and clothes now soaked with the cold, heavy rain, he looked down at his fast-moving feet. His legs churned, but he wasn’t moving forward. His shoes splashed in what was the path earlier, but now a ditch filled with muddy rainwater. He remembered reading about quicksand in school and how it left a person helpless to escape. This was no quicksand, but it had a hold of him just the same. Running in the shallow ditch, his feet splashed, never touching the bottom, but somehow suspended in the water below.

Tired, he stopped running, and just as quick, his feet sank to the bottom of the shallow ditch. He looked up at the people gathered at the funeral, as they turned and faced him.

As if on a huge platform, the entire funeral service slid towards him. Joseph watched, as they got closer and closer. The crowd parted in the middle, revealing a shiny, burgundy casket. Looking at the men and women on either side, he saw they were all smiling and laughing.

Now, right on top of him, the crowd looked back at the casket as the lid flew open revealing his mother’s dead decaying body. He could now hear the crowd’s laughter, and hear his father crying.

Joseph screamed, but no sound came from his mouth.

He woke up in a panic, his mouth wide open.

It looks like we’ll have severe thunderstorms in the forecast this week, the weatherman on the TV belted out proudly, as they tend to do when major weather breaks.

Joseph had fallen asleep on the couch and realized he had a dream, and through sleepy eyes, stared at Jim Wendell, the Channel 6 weatherman.

Well, there he is, his father said. You took quite a nap.

Hearing his father’s voice, Joseph turned to acknowledge him.

His father noticed the strange look. You okay, Joey? Did you have a bad dream?

Joseph shook his head and flashed a fake smile. No, just woke up wrong, I guess, he said. Where’s mom?

I’m in here, his mother said from the kitchen. Mothers have a way of hearing all that goes on in their house.

Hearing her voice gave Joseph an instant comfort. He looked at his father and smiled. How did I get down here?

Boy, you must have really been tired. You came down a couple of hours ago and plopped down on the couch, and then you were out to the world, his father told him as he stood over his son. We just let you sleep. You must have stayed up late. He ruffled Joseph’s hair, as he often did.

Joseph was trying to put it all together. He didn’t remember walking downstairs, and while he was glad his mother was okay, he knew this dream was another warning of what was to come, not to mention, the weather called for rain this week, just like in his dreams.

This is a sign, I don’t have enough time, he thought to himself, staring blankly at the television.

Two more nights passed without any dreams. He tried hard to find his way back in, but after two days realized he had no control of how he entered her dream. He couldn’t figure out how he ended up there in the first place. As far as he knew, she was doing okay and he was grateful for that, but his dreams of her rain-soaked funeral haunted him each day, and as it began to rain, his fear worsened.

4

THE GARAGE

Outside, sunny skies and chirping birds woke Joseph. For another night, he did not dream. The first thing he had to do, and had become a ritual with him, was to check on his mother. So far, so good. If she was having nightmares, she never let on and never showed any despair. For a moment, he entertained the thought that it might be over, but he knew better. He didn't know why, but he just knew.

After much thought, he came up with a couple of plans, once he got back into her dream. One idea was to change the course of the dream and not run down the hall. Instead, if he could run into the extra bedroom, he might be able to, if he prepared things, fight It off. He had to be sure his plan would work once it started. From what he knew, his mother's actions would mimic his exactly, so he had to hurt the monster while keeping her safe. He also knew that this thing wasn’t just a ghost or a mist, it could be hurt in the real world. He hoped, anyway, that he was right.

As the afternoon went on, he made his plan to lead it into the extra bedroom, where he would have the weapons hidden and ready to use. He knew his mother would not allow it to follow her into his room, but if he preceded her dream and led the way into the spare room, and to the weapons, she might have a chance.

His father had tools down in the garage, including an ax, but he had to have something he could handle to use against it. He also thought about setting a trap, but even he knew that was a bad idea and something he couldn't do by himself. There was so much to consider.

After thinking of his plan, Joseph decided he would try to nap in the early evening with hopes of getting into the dream. His plan involved some type of weapon, but he wasn’t sure what.

He looked out his window, hoping to see the sun making its way towards the western horizon, but today the sky was full of clouds, and he thought he could hear the sound of thunder in the not too far distance. The sound quickly grew louder. He would have to hurry.

After entering the garage and quietly closing the door, Joseph looked at the back wall—his father's famous wall of tools. He had been there with him, worked with him, and cleaned many of the tools there, but now, he was alone and needed to make his own choice for killing the demonic freak. He was lost at where to start.

The sweet smell of gas floated in the air as he walked in. His father’s 1972 Chevy Chevelle was to his right, nice and neat and under its cover. He liked looking at that car and especially loved riding in it with his father. He loved that car almost as much as his father did, but this wasn’t the time or place to reminisce.

The workbench extended four feet from the wall, and just above it, hung his father’s tools. His father had a thing about his tools being in their proper place. There was an ax, a sledgehammer, and a long tree trimmer with a serrated blade. All of these tools, or weapons, would be perfect, but those were out of the question. His father would know instantly if one was missing, plus, the ax and sledgehammer were probably too heavy for him to handle. He had to figure out something else.

Trapping the demon was not an option, so he looked under the workbench for something smaller. He wondered if his parents were looking for him, adding more pressure to his search. He wiped the sweat building on his forehead and quickly, and as quietly as possible, rummaged through the darkened area below.

He found an old hammer with a splintered wooden handle. He held it up to his face and examined it closer, unimpressed. Just as he was about to give up, he felt a smooth handle from deep in one of the darkest corners of the bottom shelf and pulled on it. It wouldn’t budge, so he twisted it and yanked again

This time it gave suddenly, and his momentum carried him backward into a half-roll and banged his head on the metal bumper of the old Chevy.

After shaking off the bump to the head, he waited for his parents to burst in at any moment. He held up the tool to see what had caused the ruckus. As he looked at it, he tried to remember if he had seen it before. He couldn't place it. The wooden handle had a long wide blade, wider near the handle and tapered down near the tip. He sat up straight and twisted his hand to get a good look at both sides of the long blade. He smiled.

This might work.

He stuffed the hammer and blade into his backpack and wiped his face. His grimy hand felt like sandpaper across his face. He hurried over to the makeshift sink, he and his father had installed a few months earlier and quickly washed his face.

The day darkened and as he peered through the crack in the door, a gust of wind hit his face, with the smell of rain in the air. He needed to get past the back door and around to the front without his parents spotting him from the kitchen window.

After slipping through the door, he moved swiftly towards the front of the house. Without glancing up at the side window, he went from a walk to a slow trot and then an all-out run.

A flash of lightning startled him, but he reached the front door without being seen. A loud thunderclap followed just as he turned the door handle.

Locked!

He wiggled the knob once more and it unlocked, but not from his actions.

The doorknob was jerked away from his sweaty hand, scaring him. He looked up to see his father standing at the open door, looking down at him.

Hey, Joey! How's it going?

Hi, Dad. Joseph was sure his father saw him leaving the garage.

Everything all right? his dad asked.

Was just out messing around in the backyard, he said, wishing for the bulky backpack to disappear behind him.

Nothing wrong with a little adventure, but the weather looks bad, you better get inside. Your mother will be worried. He smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"I was just heading to the store. I'll be right back. Let your mother know