“Good boy,” I repeated. “I think we’re going to get along really well.”
“Uaaaac . . . Chump . . .” he said in his usual voice.
And, next thing I knew, he took a dump on my shoulder and then flew over to the lamp.
FIFTH DREAM
The first thing I noticed was that I couldn’t move my hands. I was on a bus with other people, and we were going through a dense, heavy fog. The guy sitting next to me was looking out the window, concentrating on something outside though I was sure he couldn’t see much more than a gray cloud. He was dressed in a jumpsuit—the same uniform as everyone else on the bus, including me. Every uniform had a number on the back.
It finally dawned on me. These were prisoners. And I must have been one too since my hands were cuffed. Not liking the beginning of this dream, for sure. I again found myself wondering if my subconscious was creating these scenarios or if the twins were. As was usual for the beginning of a dream, I didn’t see them anywhere.
I never understood exactly how time progressed during my dreams, but after what seemed to me to be a short lapse of time and a drive through some horrible conditions we arrived outside enormous black walls and crossed a bridge I thought might collapse under us.
The bus suddenly braked hard and stopped.
“We’re home, scumbags,” barked a guard as he stood up. He was a tall man, and he kept slapping a wooden nightstick against the palm of his hand. “Now, you will get off this bus very calmly or you’ll get to try out Charlotte,” he stated as he maliciously stroked the nightstick. “Come on, move it, my little chickadees.”
We moved out single file and were escorted by prison guards through a tunnel dug out of black rock. They took off our cuffs when we got to a wall at the edge of the prison yard where some inmates were milling about. Several of them were playing a sport I couldn’t identify.
I was in the midst of a bunch of delinquents who were shooting murderously threatening looks at me. They were all fully-grown men; there were no other teenagers besides me. Even though every one of them was bigger and stronger than I was, I didn’t feel afraid at all. I was dreaming, and the girls would come see me sooner or later. Nothing could happen to me until then. Just the same, I kept my distance from the inmates as I walked around the prison yard; I didn’t dare say a word to any of those guys—just in case. Too many strange things had been happening to me lately to run the risk of annoying some burly inmate, even if he was imaginary.
I heard a clamor and then saw a tightly packed bunch of prisoners ahead of me. My curiosity got the better of me, so I picked up my pace to get closer and see what the skirmish was all about.
It was a fight between two men. Inmates crowded around them were shouting obscenities and seemed to be greatly enjoying the impromptu entertainment. And, big surprise, the combatants looked like twins. Both were tall and well built, but one was dark-haired with blue eyes and the other was a redhead with garnet-colored eyes. The girls certainly had a fixation with this twin theme. At least in this dream there were shadows where there should be shadows.
The scuffle ended abruptly when the dark-haired guy took down the redhead with one punishing blow. He bent down to finish him off, and from the way he drew back his fist I would’ve sworn he was going to knock off the poor red-eyed guy’s head. But a stick suddenly appeared between them, and the inmate’s fist smashed into the stick instead of its intended target.
I thought it was the girls’ stick because, at first glance, it looked about the same—just a bit bigger, maybe—but this time a man was holding it; a blind man who was wearing tennis shoes and an Iron Maiden sweatshirt. He must have been someone important because the shouting stopped and the inmates quickly dispersed.
“C’mon, run! Let’s get out of here before the warden gets hold of us!”
“The blind guy is the warden?” I asked, intrigued, immediately recognizing the voice that had shouted at me to get out of there. “I was expecting you, girls. You certainly took your time showing up.”
The blond, who was holding the stick, smiled and tenderly batted her little eyelashes. Her sister stuck her tongue out at me.
“We come as soon as we can,” said the girl. “As soon as the dream is defined.”
I didn’t know what she was talking about, but it didn’t seem important enough to ask for an explanation.
“Are we going to play today?” I asked. I was dying to know what they’d be giving me this time. And I was intrigued to find out how it would work when I took it into the real world.
The brunette shoved her sister, trying to get the stick away from her, but the blond turned away from her sister and shook her head. Then she looked at me, her eyes gleaming.
“Of course we’re going to play!” she exclaimed joyfully. “That’s why we’re friends. I’m so glad you like our toys. They’re fun, aren’t they?”
I followed her across the prison yard, carefully dodging the prisoners who, curiously, didn’t react at all to the presence of the little twin girls in the middle of the penitentiary. I quickly arrived at the conclusion that they couldn’t see them. The scowl the brunette had locked on me never wavered. I tried not to let it affect me, but in spite of my efforts, it was kind of giving me the heebie-jeebies.
“I really liked the parrot. Will he vanish like the glasses or will he last a while?”
“You still aren’t sure of yourself.” The blond stopped in the middle of the prison yard. She sat down and started digging at the ground. “It’s up to you how long the toys last. You’ve already practiced a lot; you should be getting better at it.”
I sat down next to her and helped her dig. She smiled at me.
Around us in the prison yard, the inmates were still agitated. The fight had ended and now the blind warden was walking with the redheaded prisoner following behind him. They were talking. They paid no attention to me when they walked past.
“And what about the vine?”
The brunette was holding the stick now. She was piling up the earth that her sister and I were digging up, and was shaping it into something. It felt like we were building a sandcastle.
“What’s so important about the vine?”
“A lot, you idiot!” Apparently she didn’t appreciate my question. “Did it vanish?”
I’d stopped digging for a moment, but the blond gestured for me to hurry it up, so I got back to digging while we talked.
“No. It’s still on the wall of the school.”
“You’re finally learning.” The brunette heaped up more dirt. She wasn’t building a castle like I’d thought at first. “The toys we give you are lasting longer and longer.”
“You forgot to mention that your toys come with a price.”
“You didn’t think they would? You dimwit. When you take something out of your dreams, something else has to disappear so it can take its place. It’s incredible to me that I have to explain everything to you. It’s an elementary principle of physics. You don’t even have to study to understand this. Two solid objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.”
She sounded awfully indignant, as if she had to clarify for me that water is wet. Maybe for the two of them this was all the most natural thing in the world, but for me it wasn’t—nor would it be for anyone else in the real world. No matter; the fact remained that my mother’s bird had died and it had deeply upset her.
“My mother had quite a shock when her bird died to make room for the parrot. Next time, warn me or—”
“Are you talking about the canary you couldn’t stand?”
“That’s not the issue. My mother did like the canary and I don’t want—”
“You don’t want the parrot?” The girl put her finger to her temple, as if she were pondering this. “You just told my sister you really liked it.”
She had me there.
“Well, yes . . . he’s really useful . . .”
“Do you prefer to give him back?”
“No!”
“
I figured as much,” she said disgustedly. That little dark-haired snot exasperated me. “Our toys are very useful in your pathetic little life. But that’s not enough for you. The little prince wants to be able to use all the amazing features of our toys without any inconveniences to him. Brilliant! Everything is just for you! No complications! And studying and learning Spanish? No, better for you to take advantage of my sister, who just wants you to play with her, and then complain to me and blame me for your problems. Besides being stupid you’re selfish.”
I didn’t know how to refute that argument. I was half ashamed I hadn’t thought about it from that point of view before. It was undeniable that their “toys” were terribly useful to me in real life, and if I didn’t want them then I should refuse them. I couldn’t complain about a gift or they’d stop giving them to me, and rightfully so. As much as the dark-haired girl irritated me, she hadn’t given the surprise history test, or caused Claudia and Ivan to go out behind my back. If it hadn’t been for the parrot I wouldn’t even have known it, and I’d still be none the wiser for who knows how long. I most definitely preferred to continue using the twins’ “toys.”
Still, something inside me couldn’t accept that stuff would disappear in the exchange, especially if it was my mom’s stuff. And then there was the coincidence of my father having repeated the same thing the brunette had said . . . I definitely still had a lot to learn about the twins and their gifts. It was not yet clear if they kept things from me for a specific reason or if I just didn’t understand. Maybe they didn’t think it was important to point out certain details since it was all so obvious and natural to them—like the fact that taking something from a dream meant something would disappear from the real world. Bottom line, they just weren’t normal, nor were they even real, and I needed to accept they wouldn’t be as easy to figure out as everyone else.
So, I was really in a mess. I desperately wanted to keep using their “toys,” as they called them, but my instincts were screaming not to.
“Maybe you’re right. I guess I am a bit selfish.”
The brunette was no longer standing next to me. She’d started digging in the hole. Her sister, who now had the stick resting on her knees, was playing in the dirt.
“Do you like it?” she asked, flashing a radiant smile.
Right there, on the spot, she had sculpted the sandy earth of the imaginary penitentiary’s ground into Claudia’s face. It was . . . perfection.
“Impressive!” I remarked in astonishment.
“She is very pretty.”
Claudia was even better-looking than in real life. Every last strand of her gorgeous hair was impeccably arranged. Her skin was so pale it looked like marble, and her exquisite face was missing the little mark she had on her right cheek. Her nose was perfectly straight. I had to admit it was a stunning rendering of Claudia.
“You might have made her too pretty, don’t you think?”
The blond wrinkled her brow, looked at the sand sculpture, then looked at me.
“Didn’t I do it right? She looks exactly like that.”
“No, no, you did great. But she doesn’t have a single imperfection. She’s . . .”
“That’s how she is in your dreams. I can’t really see her!” She burst into tears.
I don’t know what impressed me more—knowing the twins saw the world through my dreams or realizing to what degree I idolized Claudia, at least in my subconscious.
The brunette took the stick back.
“Well, you’ve done it again. Do you always have to upset her?” she said, pointing at her sister.
“I didn’t want—”
“You don’t know what you want. I’ll show you. Look.”
She struck the sculpture of Claudia with the stick. The sand broke apart right before my eyes, dissolving with a hissing sound. Then it took on a new shape. Claudia was still there, but now there was another face next to hers, kissing her. The new face was Ivan’s.
I didn’t like that one bit.
“That’s not what I want.”
“I’m not the one dreaming up that image.”
I liked the brat’s comment even less than the sculpture, probably because she was right.
“But, whatever. Let’s keep playing or my sister won’t stop whimpering, and she won’t give you any more toys.”
“Fine,” I grumbled.
I took out my anger on the dirt, digging faster than before.
“Not like that,” the girl scolded. “It’ll take too long if you use your hands. We need a shovel.”
“And where the heck am I going to get a—”
There was a shovel stuck in the ground a few yards away—a shovel that I was sure hadn’t been there a few seconds before. The brunette was pointing at it with the stick, though the inmates walking around the prison yard seemed to take no notice of it and certainly made no moves to touch it.
“Go on, go get it. Hurry up.”
“Why don’t you go get it?”
“Can’t you see it’s stuck in the ground? How do you expect me to get it out when it’s almost as tall as I am? You’d have to be a moron to not understand that.”
I refrained from answering as I stood up, then started walking toward the shovel. After just a few steps the dark-haired girl stood in my way.
“Not that way. Turn right.”
“But it’s right there in front of me. Straight ahead.”
“There are too many inmates in the way.”
I obeyed, all the while repeating to myself that, in the end, I’d get another custom-made “toy.” I took a few steps and then she made me turn again, unnecessarily increasing the number of steps it took me to get to the shovel. And then I remembered I’d been in the exact same situation before—during the Big Ben dream—when she made me unscrew a lightbulb that was floating in mid air after having led me to it via a ridiculously indirect route. And it turned out the lightbulb was actually the lock nut from the bathroom heater.
“Wait a minute! You’re trying to trick me!”
“What are you talking about, fool?”
“About the lightbulb at Big Ben. You used me to get something in the real world while I was sleeping. I know what you’re up to!”
“So we’re going to talk about your sleepwalking again?”
“You knew.”
I took off heading straight toward the shovel, which was really close to me, not going the roundabout way the dark-haired girl had told me to go. I felt my hip hit something even though I saw nothing there—the same way I’d run my shin into something in the cotton factory. I didn’t let it stop me. I got to the shovel and jerked it out of the ground.
“If you’d listened to me you wouldn’t have run into anything, idiot.”
“That’s not why you led me that way.”
“Well, of course it’s not. I did it that way so we could keep playing with my sister.”
She was lying, but I said nothing. I’d already said the wrong thing to her too many times and consequently been reprimanded by the dark-haired girl. I needed to know if my suspicions were right.
“I don’t want to play any more today.”
“You can’t leave us without finishing the game first.”
“I believe I can, actually,” I said, turning my back to her.
“You’ll be sorry.”
“So you say. You can’t make me do anything in a dream. Watch this.”
I walked quickly through a group of enormous men, gripping the shovel tightly, then went directly up to the dark-haired inmate who’d been fighting with his redheaded twin.
“Hey, you! Moron!”
The inmate, a tall and quite muscular man, turned and looked at me in disbelief. “What did you call me, little boy? You’d best get on outta here. I’m not in the mood for your horseshit.”
“Why’d they lock you up in here?” I asked, looking up at him. “You look too stupid to have committed a robbery. I bet you’re actually innocent and you’re just looking to be locked up w
ith a bunch of studly guys. That’s it, right? You’re into guys?”
It worked. A bunch of inmates started laughing. The huge man turned red with rage, growled, and drew his fist back. I closed my eyes just before it smashed into my face.
I woke up both frightened and happy. It had worked. Now I knew I could wake myself up whenever I wanted if, in the dream, something was threatening enough to me to trigger my fear—like what had happened when I fell while climbing Big Ben.
As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized I wasn’t in my room nor, from what I could tell, in my bed considering I felt like I was on something hard. I was on a floor, and it was cold.
Though I felt a bit dazed, I recognized the furniture around me and knew I was in the kitchen. My senses and thoughts were still a bit foggy from the effects of the dream. The twins once again had tricked me into walking around the house when I was supposedly walking amongst the prisoners in a prison yard to get the shovel. I didn’t know why they had brought me to the kitchen until I went to stand up. When I pressed my hand on the floor I noticed I was clutching something tightly. As I lifted my hand to see what was in it, my heart was racing . . . and then it stopped when I saw what I was holding.
In the dream I was grasping a shovel, but now—in real life—in the kitchen of my own house, I was holding an enormous carving knife, with the blade pointing down.
Shocked and frightened, I let it drop to the floor with a clang as I racked my brains to understand how this was possible. The twins wanted something from me; that’s why they were playing with me and giving me their extraordinary gifts—so I wouldn’t think about what I was doing while I was sleeping. And whatever they wanted, it couldn’t be good if it required me to use a knife that size. I saw clearly now that the scare we’d had in the bathroom with the heater was no accident; it was a trick carefully constructed by the two sisters, or at least by the dark-haired one. To convince myself once and for all—even though I was already pretty certain—I retraced from memory every step I’d taken in the prison yard when the brunette was making me turn for no apparent reason. I began in my room and those same steps brought me to the kitchen. I figured out that the seemingly invisible object I’d bumped into in the prison yard was probably the kitchen table I’d stumbled into while sleepwalking.
Get Out of My Dreams Page 14