Dreams from Apartment 609: A Collection of Fictional Short Stories

By Brandon Michael DeLuke

Dreams from Apartment 609: A Collection of Fictional Short Stories
…just then, as I felt myself drifting into dormancy, a flash of light burned in my eyes, deep past my retinas, and into my brain. I tried to sit up and wake but a thousand hands held my body to the bed. The flashes grew brighter and longer. I once again tried to wake myself but I could not. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I tried to pray but I didn’t know how. That is when I saw her. My eyes were closed yet I could see everything. The Lady in Black stood near me then moved seductively away. I felt myself moving toward her, being pulled and drawn to her. She kept pulling me with her eyes. I felt like I wanted to be pulled. Then she reached out of the dark and I was being thrust down a moving light tunnel, falling and tumbling and rolling downward to a bottomless pit, falling and flying out of control, until without warning I stopped abruptly finding myself in a dream and a world I have never been….

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781667145808

Book preview

Dreams from Apartment 609:

A Collection of Fictional Short Stories

By Brandon Michael DeLuke

All rights reserved,

including the right to reproduce this book

or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Copyright and Title

Revise Copyright Information

Title Dreams from Apartment 609SubtitleA Collection of Fictional Short StoriesISBN978-1-6671-4580-8Imprint/PublisherLulu.com Copyright License All Rights Reserved - Standard Copyright License Copyright Holder-Copyright Year-Contributors

By (author) Brandon Michael DeLuke

When you’re lost

And trouble finds you

When all else has failed

And time is behind you

Follow the light

And know that

He will guide you

Dreams

Prologue

Prelude to a Dream

Dream One

Summer Session

Dream Two

Waiting for the Atlantic Terminal, Going Eastbound

Dream Three

Looking for Company

Dream Four

Dal Paradiso o Dall’ Inferno

Dream Five

The Unforgiving Wish

Dream Six

Field of Sorrow

Dream Seven

Un-Defeated

Dream Eight

My Time in Hamburger Cove

Dream Nine

Unfinished House

Dream Ten

A Parade for Joy

Dream Eleven

609 Shelby Manor

Dream Twelve

Family Struggle

Dream Thirteen

Looking for Company: The Apartment

Dream Fourteen

About the Kays

Epilogue

After a Dream

Prologue – Prelude to a Dream

A Wisher Dream Watch

And tonight, I dream a thought

of love encouraging love

with white vestment and bells

and devilish tales

of days gone with the wind

and out pass a heart of sea

always there

to hold me and wish me

good night

Prelude to a Dream

The tale I am writing for you to read has a purpose. I don’t think many have taken the path to grace as I have. I saw the devil, the Lady in Black, and the wretch called out to me. In each new face that she wore and that I hid myself in, her dark cloak cast a shadow seemingly too large for me to escape. There were so many names and so many faces. It all happened so fast but I feel like I have lived so many different lives. I remember every name. I remember every face. I remember every temptation and sin. I came to apartment number 609 through arrogance and the Lady in Black knew my thoughts and desires. Yet, in the sea of temptations and false dreams, I found Him out there looking for me. My name is Nicolas Bonafede and the stories I am about to tell you were dreams I had, all which began many years ago as my tired and rusted truck, packed full, pulled up to that murky brick complex on that overcast day.

Upon my arrival, the immediate front of the high-rise building was covered in winter’s dead vines, which weaved and clung to every inch of it. Few cars were outside for such a large building and there was absolutely no movement from any inhabitance that could possibly be living there. On Airbnb a week earlier, I saw an ad for an apartment for rent. Five hundred dollars a month for a one bedroom in this area was unheard of. I called and spoke to a sickly and hoarse sounding lady named Edison. I am still unsure whether that was a first name, last name, or perhaps just a nickname. She told me that the room was available and the five hundred included all utilities. I would have been a fool to have not taken it right then and there. I am not one to dwell on things, so in haste I agreed to move in without so much as looking at the place.

It was the 22nd of December. I was just arriving at the new apartment building that I would be calling home for the next year of my young life. I had just graduated college two weeks prior with a degree in Political Science and at that point in my life I would not run back home to my parents with my tale between my legs, so I made a commitment to stay in New York at least until I had hit bottom and failed completely. I had spent four and a half years getting a degree in a field with little or no opportunity, against my father’s orders and my mother’s logic. Three thousand miles from home to go to a SUNY school and take a major that seemed to me more interesting than anything else, made all the sense in the world to me at the time.

For the unbelievably low monthly rent, the building was as I expected, but it was just a lot less populated than I figured it might have been. I was actually overjoyed that there weren’t children running around and various people on the constant prowl. I parked my truck next to the marble staircase that led to the small porch of the large building. I only took in one bag that carried all my essentials and left the rest unlocked and unwatched in the bed of the truck. I walked up the old steps to the front entrance; a huge wooden door with gray windows and a dirty gleam stood in my path. Then I thought, but just for a moment, that I saw the reflection of a young lady dressed in black pass by on the window of the massive door. I looked around, but there was nothing. I saw her, but it was like I had not seen anything at all. Her image seemed as if it had been seared into my brain, into the dark recesses where dream and memory lie, however I continued to walk up the old steps. The building seemed more like an old fashion hotel than an apartment complex. Thinking back now, I did, for some unknown reason, feel confident in just walking right inside; call it a young man’s bravado I suppose. As I opened the massive wooden door the smell of stale mold enveloped me. I walked in and released the door gently but it hastily slammed closed. This startled me so much that it actually took me a second to focus on my surroundings; my bravado was gone. I did not move, but ingested what my eyes had begun to fill up on. The inside of the building looked like an early eighteen-hundreds style hotel, complete with a huge hanging chandler and the décor that gave me the feel of standing in the dinning suite of the Titanic (after it sank).

My legs were frozen in the massive ingress. The floors were all dark wood, which looked in need of a polish. To my immediate right there was an enormous staircase that twisted to the upper floors of the building. What do you want? A voice off to my left startled me. I quickly spun around to see a front desk with an old woman sitting at it.

I’m here for the apartment, ma’am, I answered her.

You’re here for 609, I could tell it was Edison by her horribly raspy voice.

Yes, ma’am, I replied.

Fine, I’ll be back for you in a minute, she grumbled and darted off into another room.

Just then, another voice from behind me called out. So, you’re the 609? A balding woman, who could have been easily mistaken for a man, asked me. She was tiny, old, and I am under the impression quite shrunken with age. She stood with a cane and with her off hand brushed back the four or five hairs that remained on her diminutive head. You don’t want the 609. Lots of people have trouble in that 609.

What do you mean ‘trouble’? I asked her.

They don’t like what it does to them. The thoughts it gives them. They all move out after the first night, she said while slowly walking toward me. She had a limp and the right side of her body hung much lower than the left, as if she had been recovering from a stroke. I see you got a cross on your neck, you’ll need more than that here!

What do you mean? I asked while slowly backing up.

The dreams! she called out. Oh, you’ll enjoy the dreams…, she said and began a heckling laugh that echoed through the empty space of the ponderous place. I slowly moved backwards away from the old woman when Edison came around the corner.

Come on, boy, Edison said. You’re gonna want to follow me or you’ll be lost, I quickly snatched my bag off the floor and followed behind Edison as the women’s continued heckle could be heard all the way up the winding stairs.

The elevator was broken, as I was told it always was. We took the winding staircase all the way to the sixth floor. Though we walked at a slow pace, Edison was in surprisingly good shape for an older woman, probably from walking up and down the stairs so often. It did give me an opportunity to ask her about the old woman from downstairs. Edison seemed reluctant at first. Who was that woman? I asked.

She’s a resident.

What did she mean when she spoke of the dreams?

Nothing, she said flatly in her low raspy voice.

I’m not leaving; I’ve got no place to go…so, what about the dreams?

It’s all a lie. Last couple people that lived here said they had dreams, some good, and some bad. They were just trying to get out of the lease, that’s all, she said, sounding as if she wanted to provoke an argument.

Yeah, but why dreams? Why would someone try to get out of a lease by saying they had dreams?

An old Mohawk man lived up there some time back. He used to make those dream catcher things and sell them to the local stores. I had only been up in the 609 a few times while he lived here. The place was always filled with hundreds of those dream catchers. He didn’t make much money sellin’ them though. I had to evict him. I gave that Indian man three months to make rent. He pleaded with me and swore he had the money. He kept telling me that the Lady in Black took it. Whatever that might have meant, I got no idea. I booted him out though. I never did see him leave. A couple people on the sixth floor heard him chanting the night he was supposed to go, yellin’ all his gobbledygook nonsense. I went up there the morning after he made all the noise, but he was gone along with all of his stuff, except the dream catcher things. Strange thing was through, that I found an envelope in his mailbox with four months’ rent in it…. I should have charged him extra for making me have to collect all those dream catcher things.

We had just come to the top of the stairs when she finished. She dropped the keys to the apartment in my hand. Fifth door on your left. I hope there’s no trouble, she said as she turned to go back down the stairs.

No, no trouble at all, I replied.

The hallway was long and narrow like in a hotel. The rugs needed vacuuming and cobwebs hung in each corner. At one point in time, when it was clean, I assumed the place could have been rather nice. I carried my bag at my side until I came upon room 609. The door was wooden and large. It looked as if it had been painted many times over, but had not seen a coat in some time. The color of it had faded into a cold dark burgundy and had the numbers carved into the top. Fumbling for the key I noticed a cross carved very high in the left corner of the door. The gold cross I wore on my neck was just for show at the time, but at the very least the cross on the door made me feel a small inkling of security. As I turned the key I had no idea what to expect. The door opened without a hitch, swinging smoothly.

The apartment was very spacious. Its walls were white and the rugs were brown and it looked clean. I shut the door and placed my bag on the floor. The kitchen was to my right. I peeked in and saw that it was descent. The stove was very old but it looked as if it might work. The sink, counters, and cabinets all looked aged, however very clean. Surprisingly the apartment was fully furnished, which made Edison’s story of the Native American man all the creepier. I had no furniture anyhow, so I was pleasantly pleased. The couch looked highly used and would need a cover, but the table and chairs in the living room were in suitable condition. There was a hallway to my left that led to the bedroom and bath. The bathroom was also clean, although the shower would need a curtain and a floor mat. I then walked into the bedroom to find two dressers, a walk-in closet and a bed. Looking at the bed I felt drained thinking of the things I would have to drag up six flights of stairs, so I decided to quickly start the strenuous task.

When I made my way back down the stairs the old wispy woman was gone. Edison was behind her desk, looking as if she had died, but she was only sleeping. I walked out of the massive front door only to see a young child sitting on my tailgate rummaging through my things.

Hey kid, what are you up to?

You got some cool stuff, mister, the small Mexican looking boy said as he quickly jumped out of the back of my truck.

Well, I’m glad you like it all.

Can I have this? he held a baseball in his hand.

Sure, why not, but only if you help me. I got a lot of stuff and a lot of stairs to climb, I said as I started to take out each bag from the truck.

Okay, where we going with it? he asked.

We are going into this big old building in apartment 609.

Keep your ball, he threw the ball back into the bed of my truck. I’m not going up there, mister.

Why, the dreams? I yelled after him as he began to run away.

I got to go, he yelled back running away from the building down the dirt road that led to the complex.

__________________________________________

I got almost everything in three trips. The things I had left I decided to lock up in the truck for the next day. It was already ten o’clock at night after I unpacked most everything, though the last were my sheets and other bedding items. I did not want to use the white ones in fear of ruining them on the possibly soiled mattress that had been left in the bedroom. After flipping the mattress, I found my old green and red plaid sheets I had from when I was a child. As quickly as I could, I covered the bed and rested my head back on the soft down pillows I had unpacked with the sheets. My exhausted eyes closed quickly and my body relaxed into the comfortable grove made by the various people who must have slept in the bed.

Just then, as I