Dream On

by M. Kircher

  Gabe's eyes crease with concern. His gaze sweeps over the alabaster landscape. The three of us peer all around, trying to find some clue that will tell us if Mom's here in this dream. I don't see anything promising, and my heart sinks.

  "Mom!" I call out, cupping my fingers around my mouth. But the only answer is the echo of my own voice. "Mom…Mom…Mom…." It slowly fades into the snowy, white hills.

  "Blast!" I yell, and I strike my fists against my jeans. "I had her. I had her hand in mine, and then she just slipped away. How could I let this happen?" I'm angry now. We came so close.

  Gabe puts a hand on my shoulder and lighting races through me. The fact that his touch can have this effect when what I need to be worrying about is Mom makes me feel sick.

  "Focus, Em," I mutter.

  "What?" asks Gabe, not understanding that I'm trying to give myself a pep talk.

  "I need to focus," I answer, my voice harsher than I intend. "This is all so wrong. Nothing's working right. I had Mom's hand. She should be right here next to me in this dream. It's how it always works!" I know I'm getting slightly hysterical when I feel a hot tear slide down my cheek. My throat feels tight. "She doesn't even know who I am. That's never happened before. Awake or asleep." I wipe away the tear, and my hands clench into fists.

  "And what is this stupid dream anyway?" I kick the weird, warm snow. What business does snow have being warm?

  "I thought you might be able to tell us," Evan chimes in. He's completely unhelpful, as always. I scowl at him, but he ignores me and scans the horizon. "Does anything look familiar? Can you think of a memory it might be linked to, like the last dream?"

  I take in the odd, white landscape. It's like a fairyland. "No," I answer, shaking my head. "Nothing looks familiar."

  Gabe rakes a hand through his hair. "It's weird, right? It's snowing, but I'm not cold at all." He peers around. "I'm actually kind of hot."

  Yeah, you are, my dumb brain chimes in. I can't help thinking it, despite the gravity of the situation. He looks like some kind of punk-Greek-god-slash-rock-star standing there. My thoughts and emotions roil around inside of me, warring with each other. I have got to get a grip.

  Evan pushes his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and squints. Then he scratches his head. What is it now?

  "Emily," he begins hesitantly, and instantly, I'm annoyed.

  "Spit it out," I order.

  "Well, the abnormalities you just mentioned, the way things in your mother's dreams seem to differ from what you're used to. They might suggest…" He peers at me nervously.

  "Suggest what?"

  Evan tugs on the collar of his plaid shirt. Despite the balmy temperature, he's unwrapped it from his waist and put it back on. "Well, they might suggest that perhaps Lily does not want to wake up this time. Maybe the grief from losing your father has altered something in her brain, something that may not be able to be repaired."

  "You mean like she's losing her marbles?" My stomach feels like lead.

  Evan's words have hit home, and I know his random guess is actually the truth. I know it, even though I've been trying to hide from it.

  Mom is going crazy.

  Gabe's fingers tighten on my shoulder, and then he slides them down my arm. "But maybe not, Em," he suggests gently. "Maybe it's just like a temporary thing, until she finds your dad."

  "We have to consider the possibility though," interjects Evan, squashing my tiny twinkle of hope like a bug. "If Lily can't, or won't, remember her own daughter, what chance do we have in convincing her she's in a dream and needs to wake up from it? We also have to think about what these dreams will be like when her mind is so fractured. They could be dangerous and unpredictable. Even Emily admits she doesn't know what's going on."

  "He's right," I agree hollowly, staring out into the white expanse. But just as the words leave my lips, the most bone-chilling sound echoes across the snowy plain.

  A long, ghostly wail winds over the ivory hills, trailing through the forest of ashen trees and shaking their unnatural leaves like a shiver. The keening cry buries itself into my spine and creeps down my back. I've heard this cry before, one time. It was the day of my father's funeral.

  "Mom!" I whisper, both excitement and dread filling my bones. She's here! Somewhere in this sea of white, my mother is hiding. But Evan's obviously right; this cry means her mind is slipping. It's slipping badly.

  "There!" shouts Gabe, and he points to one of the hills above us.

  "I don't see anything," I confess, and my eyes strain to find the object of his excitement.

  "Oh my," breathes Evan.

  And then I do see it.

  It's a castle, or at least I think that's what it is. It's a massive stone structure wedged into the mountaintop above us like a huge, stoic sentry. I saw a picture of a castle once, in school. They used to be places where kings and queens lived and ruled their kingdoms. The giant buildings always seemed so cold to me, made of all that stone. And this one is no different. Though the stone is snowy white instead of dingy gray, like the history pictures showed. Despite the warm air, my shoulders tremble.

  Another long wail shivers over the hills and seems to be coming from the direction of the castle.

  "We've got to get up there," I announce, and I start walking across the plain, heading for the hillside. I don't ask anyone's permission or take a team vote. Things might be all out of whack here in the dream world, but it's my mother up there, and she needs me.

  "Hey, wait up!" Gabe calls, and I hear him and Evan run up behind me.

  I would feel sorry for the two of them, stuck here in this crazy mess with me, but they both demanded to be here, so I don't actually feel too bad. Gabe runs up next to me and takes my hand. I have both the urge to shake it off and squeeze it for dear life.

  Gabe gazes down at our intertwined fingers. "You know you need us," he rumbles and his eyes darken.

  "Bug off," I retort, but I don't pull my hand away. Instead I let the warmth from his fingers flow through me, tapping into some of his strength. I don't know what I need right now, except to keep going until I see Mom again.

  The light, powdery snow swishes beneath my sneakers as Gabe, Evan, and I march up the hillside and into my mother's insanity.

  * * * *

  I wince as another piercing wail echoes out of the castle walls and bounces off the white stone like a half-shattered jewel. I stare up at the imposing wooden door before me. The door is completely white, just like everything else in this dream, and is at least twenty feet tall. There's no way we can get this thing open on our own.

  Especially because there's a moat filled with crystal clear water surrounding the entire castle. And the only way across it is to lower the door and use it as a bridge. Gabe leans over the edge of the snow-covered embankment and peers down into the moat.

  "Whoa, cool," he mutters, and Evan and I hurry over to see for ourselves.

  Pure white fish glide silently by in the transparent shallows; and over by the foundation of the castle, where the water gets deeper, I see ivory fins slicing back and forth. Sharks, I think to myself and gulp. There are a ton of white sharks swirling around in the moat, all with milky, death-colored eyes and rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth.

  Evan tugs at his collar. "I guess we won't be swimming then." He gulps.

  I shoot him a look. "You think?" I quip sarcastically and scoot back from the edge of the moat. "The question is…" I continue, trying to swallow my impatience as another mournful cry rips through the air." "How do we get this big, dumb door to open?" My eyes rake up and down the sides of the castle, trying to find some kind of lever, something to drop the door and allow us safe passage across the water. I love Mom, but I don't want to know what it feels like to be eaten by sharks…even ones that aren't real.

  Gabe squats down and runs his hand through the snow, scattering it around him in little wintery puffs. "You'd think there'd be a trigger of some kind," he theorizes under his breath.

  Snowflakes c
ling to his dark hair and eyelashes like a dusting of white sugar on top of a fresh batch of brownies. His jeans are still damp in patches, and his leather jacket looks as if it's seen better days. Although that might have been what his jacket was like in the first place. I can't remember.

  Evan scans the ground too, and then I join in, all three of us searching for some way to bring down the door. "Look for something out of place," he suggests.

  "Why?"

  "It's what would make sense," Evan answers sensibly. Doesn't he understand dreams are usually the complete opposite of sense? "Lily's shut herself up in this castle, yet she's projecting her cries loud enough that if someone did want to find her, they could. She wants to be found, I think. So there's got to be a way in, some trigger out here to open the door."

  I'm about to tell Evan he's totally wrong, but instead my eye catches on the corner of something sticking out of a mound of snow. The edges of the thing are hard and straight, as though whatever is buried underneath is man-made. I walk over and brush away the warm snow, revealing the object.

  "A camera," Gabe's deep voice resonates behind my back, and I jump in surprise.

  "Ugh, stop scaring me," I exclaim and then focus my attention back on the camera. Because it is a camera, despite how odd the thing appears. "It was Mom's," I murmur softly and uncover the rest of the device. The camera is pure white, not the deep black I remember. But still, I would recognize it anywhere. She used to carry it around with her everywhere we went. I would complain because the thing was so old and it embarrassed me.

  "It's not old. It's vintage, Emily," she'd answer dismissively and click away. "I like how the pictures print with the old ones."

  My hands run lightly over the boxy shape of the camera, and I notice a long crack snakes through the crystal lens. I remember Mom explaining how much she hated the new three-D rendering models that had just come out. No, what she wanted was a big, fat lens and regular, flat pictures.

  I reach out to take the camera into my hands, but when I tug on it, it doesn't budge. I brush more of the snow away and pull again, but the thing is stuck fast to the ground.

  "It won't come loose," I sputter, frustrated.

  "Here let me try," Gabe pipes up, and he quickly squats down beside me. He grabs the edges of the camera and yanks hard. Nothing moves. Not even a centimeter. He shuffles out of the way for Evan to give it a go, but neither guy can seem to pry the thing loose.

  "There's no use," I complain. "This piece of junk is totally stuck. Now what?" I ask, throwing up my hands. Yet another eerie wail echoes out of the castle walls, and I can feel it wrench my stomach into knots. I have no idea what to do.

  "You're sure this was Lily's?" Evan asks, and I nod yes. Satisfied, he squats down and rubs his fingers on his chin. He tilts his head to the right and then to the left, taking in every angle of this strange, whitewashed relic of my mother's past. "Maybe…" he mutters, and stretches out his thin fingers to twist the lens of the camera. It's the part that makes the picture zoom in and out. Mom showed me how to do it once.

  Evan tightens his grip and twists lens further to the right. A sharp crack suddenly splits the air. I jump in surprise and gaze upward as the giant wooden door slowly starts to creak open. Ancient gears whine and moan from somewhere inside the castle walls.

  And slowly, ever so slowly, the massive white door lowers to the ground at our feet. It hits the snowy bank with a loud bang, and the three of us are momentary blinded by a puff of snowflakes. When the air clears, I stare across the wooden planks and see a large arched entranceway leading into the castle.

  "Well, what are we waiting for?" I ask, and I step out onto the snow-dusted planks. Below me, the alabaster sharks twist and writhe in the clear water, angry at being cheated out of their next meal.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Inside the castle, everything is snowy white. Big surprise there. Even the dusty chandeliers hanging overhead are devoid of color. A piercing wail slinks along the ivory walls and whispers across the stone floor. It sounds like a hundred voices all blending together in misery, but I know only one ghost haunts this castle.

  I spin around in a circle in the front hall, trying to figure out where Mom's cries are coming from. It's impossible. She sounds as if she's everywhere.

  "I think we need to split up," Evan suggests.

  "Good idea," Gabe agrees. He locks his fingers into mine. "Em and I will go this way." He points to what seems like the main hallway on the first floor. Part of the hallway bends to the left, lined with rows of white, wooden doors on either side.

  I tug Gabe toward the left hallway. "I want to see behind those doors," I tell him. "Evan, can you check upstairs? If either of us find something, we'll give a shout."

  Evan peers up the bleached staircase that's currently taking up at least half of the entranceway we're standing in. It's covered in pale dust, with not a footprint in sight. Cobwebs crisscross the banisters, and little white spiders dangle precariously on their spindly threads.

  "The staircase…" Evan nervously peers up at the eerie passageway. He rubs the back of his neck.

  "Seriously, dude? Could you just cough up some courage already?" I snap. The creepy, ghostly keening is starting to get under my skin. I feel itchy and nervous. All I want to do is find Mom and get out of here.

  Evan scowls at me. "That's not a very respectful comment, Emily. But since these are dire circumstances, I'll let it go. This is all new for me and quite alarming. However, in order to help your mother, I can, as you so eloquently put it, 'cough up some courage.' She deserves it." He straightens his spine and sets his shoulders back.

  "You like her, don't you?" I ask suspiciously, and when Evan doesn't answer, I grab hold of his shirt and tug it so that my face is right up in front of his. My eyes narrow into slits, and Evan's cheeks flush bright pink in response. "You do! You like her," I accuse him. I know I'm being unreasonable, and the skinny coward is just trying to help, but having a crush on Mom is just too much. I can't seem to stop the haze of red swimming before my eyes. Mom always said my temper was like a guitar string wound too tight; I'm always ready to snap.

  Evan can't seem to meet my eyes. "No…I don't… It's not what you think," he stammers.

  "It's exactly like I think." I throw my hands up in the air. "How can you think about her in that way at a time like this? She's going crazy, for Pete's sakes!"

  "Em, calm down," Gabe says, jumping into the fray. He grabs my fingers and pries apart the death grip I have on Evan's shirt. My heart rages as he puts a hand on Evan's chest, separating the two of us. "Both of you, just breathe for a second, okay?"

  I don't want to breathe; I want to hit somebody. My heart is beating fast, and blood rushes in my ears. I want to punch this four-eyed besotted editor right in his sniveling, snooping nose.

  "Just try to find her," I grumble at Evan, and I move my body out of his way so I can get ahold of myself. "If you see anything, call out. She doesn't need a hero right now. She needs me, her daughter."

  "Emily of course, I truly didn't mean anything. Of course she needs you," Evan apologizes.

  "Okay, Em?" Gabe pulls my arm, tugging me towards left hallway. "Evan's cool. He'll look around, and so will we. We're gonna find your mom."

  "Fine," I mutter, and I stalk down the hallway. I know I'm acting like a baby, but I don't care.

  Gabe hurries after me, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Evan start up the staircase. He waves his hands frantically around in the air as all the spider webs catch on his clothes. I smirk.

  "Hey, wait up," Gabe calls out and jogs to catch up to me.

  "Hey, walk faster," I shoot back.

  "Em, give it a rest. We're just trying to help."

  I sigh. "I know. I'm just stressed out. This is all starting to get to me. And you have to admit; it's so gross thinking about Evan crushing on Mom. I mean, yuk, they're old."

  "They're not that old," Gabe reasons, and then he sneezes with a loud, echoing, "Achoo!"

 
; There's dust everywhere, and it's making my nose itchy. Another wail blasts through the castle, and I shiver. I hate it. I hate it. It needs to stop.

  We walk through the ivory corridor, opening and closing each white door we pass, searching for Mom. Every inch of the castle seems to be coated in the thick white dust, and soon it's not just Gabe who's sneezing. My eyes begin to water, and I can't get rid of the annoying tickle at the back of my throat.

  Most of the rooms we check are completely empty. Bright white light slants in through tall windows despite the fact that outside I never once saw anything resembling a sun. It's a dream, I remind myself. And dreams don't have to make sense. Once in a while, there's a room piled high with junk — all of it white, of course. I feel as if I recognize some of the things, but I don't have time to sit around and sift through them. If I don't see Mom, I slam the door shut and move on to the next.