Dream Master Nightmare!

by Theresa Breslin

  Cy nodded weakly.

  ‘Good,’ said Harald. ‘Then I will spare your life – for now.’

  CHAPTER •15•

  CY KEPT A tight hold of the piece of dreamsilk as he was hauled along the river path with Hilde and her grandfather.

  ‘Why do you keep looking back?’ Hilde asked him. ‘Do you have friends who might follow and rescue us?’

  ‘I thought I had a friend,’ said Cy bitterly. Why was it that when things got really bad the Dream Master was nowhere to be seen? At scary moments he always managed to duck under his dreamcloak and vanish completely. ‘But he seems to have mysteriously disappeared.’

  ‘Then we must try ourselves to escape.’

  ‘How?’ asked Cy.

  There were armed men to the front and rear. Hilde and himself might have been able to dodge away and escape among the grass and bushes, but Hilde’s grandfather would never keep up. And Cy knew that neither of them would leave him behind.

  ‘They will stop to eat and rest for part of the night,’ said Hilde. ‘Then we must take our chance.’

  ‘Thank you for helping me out earlier,’ said Cy. ‘Telling them I was a storyteller was a good idea.’

  ‘A debt honoured,’ said Hilde, ‘for your help to us. And it was not all untruth,’ she added. ‘At times your speech is fanciful and . . .’ she glanced at him and smiled, ‘. . . entertaining.’

  Hilde’s grandfather nudged Cy. ‘She likes you,’ he whispered.

  Hilde’s prediction was right. At the next hamlet Harald called a halt. The people had run away at their approach, and the men foraged in the huts for food and firewood.

  Harald took Hilde roughly by the arm. ‘You, girl, and your grandfather can stay and eat with me by the fire.’ He laughed. ‘Give the pig boy some pig food and put him in one of the huts for now.’

  It was almost completely dark in the hut and it took Cy a moment or two to realize that he was not alone. A small figure sat cross-legged on the floor.

  ‘Oh, so now you decide to reappear,’ Cy said sarcastically.

  ‘Don’t criticize what you don’t understand,’ said the Dream Master.

  Cy picked up a piece of the stale bread which had been thrown at him.

  ‘Yecch,’ said the dwarf. ‘How can you eat that?’

  ‘Believe me, it tastes better than the stuff they were getting in Eadred’s army.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ said the dwarf. ‘Eadred and his army . . . They are not many miles distant from here. I will show you the way there and you can finish this dream with them at the battle of Stainmore.’

  ‘Stainmore?’ said Cy. ‘You want me to go to Stainmore and be with King Eadred and his army?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the dwarf testily. ‘That’s where you began, isn’t it? Marching with Eadred’s army?’

  ‘I can’t leave Hilde and her grandfather,’ said Cy. ‘She needs my help for them both to escape.’

  The dwarf raised his eyebrows. ‘Is this the same Hilde who scratched Harald’s face and almost gouged his eyes out?’

  ‘He is going to force her to be his wife so that he can claim the throne of England.’

  ‘There are more polite ways of turning down an offer of marriage,’ said the dwarf.

  ‘He threatened to kill her grandfather!’ cried Cy.

  The dwarf leaned close to Cy. ‘That is none of your business,’ he hissed in a low voice. ‘You started this dream off with Eadred’s army. Switching viewpoints in a story is a bad idea. So now you must go and rejoin the army, and end the dream there.’ He walked to the door. ‘Come, I will show you the way.’

  ‘No,’ said Cy. ‘I can’t just walk away from this.’

  ‘Then run,’ suggested the dwarf. He opened the door a crack and peered out. ‘You may have to.’

  Cy shook his head. ‘No.’

  The Dream Master turned to face Cy, then he frowned and reached forward. ‘This dream is getting thin.’ He touched the hut door again. His hand almost passed through it. ‘Your focus is beginning to slip. Has something stressful happened to you recently?’

  ‘Stressful!’ said Cy. ‘I’ve been captured by a band of Vikings whose leader is a lunatic and who has threatened to kill me at a moment’s notice. I would call that stressful – yes!’

  ‘All of that,’ said the Dream Master, ‘is entirely your own fault. But that kind of excitement shouldn’t affect your dreamweaving. If anything it should make it more vivid . . . No, has anything traumatic happened in your ordinary, dull, humdrum, everyday, rather boring existence, which by the way, I try to liven up now and then by giving you a really interesting dream? Think twenty-first century Real Time. Did you have a bad experience lately?’

  ‘Well, sort of,’ said Cy. ‘I had a run in with the Mean Machines.’

  ‘Fifteen Fiddlesticks!’ said the dwarf. ‘Them again! I should have known that there was a reason you were having so many problems with this dream. Your concentration has been faulty from the start, and now the whole thing is beginning to drift away again.’

  Cy looked around him. Through the walls of the hut he could very faintly see the walls of the hostel. They were moving, gently swaying . . . No, it was his dream that was moving. He tried to concentrate. The air shimmered slightly. Cy pulled the piece of dreamsilk from his sleeve. It was washed-out grey, and the dream itself was now floating gently, tugging like a tethered balloon. His dream had moved in space. There was now a distance between it and his reality.

  ‘Some of your dreamtime has to be used to sort out daytime events,’ said the Dream Master. ‘Part of your mind must still be taken up by whatever happened with those two bullies.’

  ‘But that happened during the day,’ said Cy. ‘It’s over. It doesn’t affect me now.’

  ‘Of course it does! It all meshes together. Do you understand nothing?’ The dwarf peered at Cy. ‘Oh, I keep forgetting, you’re stuck in that dreadful twenty-first century where most people are still locked into thinking that everything exists in linear dimensions. It’s not like that. Don’t you see? It all relates. Einstein managed to grasp the concept. But it isn’t just time that’s relative. Everything is relative.’

  ‘Relatives,’ repeated Cy. He thought of Grampa and his sister, Lauren. They were relatives. The dwarf’s image was fading. He could hardly hear his voice.

  ‘Your dream energy is running low, like sand in a glass. You’re going to have to leave this dream and come back again. Get out, Cy. Get out. Now!’

  ‘Relatives,’ said Cy again. They said you could choose your friends, but not your relations. But that wasn’t completely true. Friends chose you, or didn’t in some cases. He realized that he was now getting really mixed up. ‘OK,’ he said to the dwarf. He took the piece of dreamsilk and looked at it. It was pearly translucent. Cy staggered to his feet. He had better go while he still could. If the dream moved further, then he could be trapped here for ever. Gripping the dreamsilk firmly in his fingers Cy stumbled to the door and pulled it open.

  CHAPTER •16•

  CY WALKED OUT of the hostel dining hall and bumped into Mr Gillespie.

  ‘Cy!’ exclaimed his teacher. ‘What are you doing down here at this time of night?’

  Cy rubbed his face in a daze.

  Mr Gillespie looked at him closely. ‘I think you’re sleepwalking. Let me get you a drink and then I’ll take you back to the dormitory.’ He took the scrap of dreamsilk from Cy’s fingers. ‘You won’t need that,’ he said, and he dropped it into the open wicker hamper by the door.

  When Cy woke the next morning he only had the vaguest recollection of his Viking dream. And he found that he couldn’t think about it much anyway because there was something else nagging at his mind. All through breakfast, as they collected their packed lunch bags and then waited for the bus to take them on their day trip, there was something he should know, or had to remember, but what? He knew that it was important, but that didn’t help at all. In fact, it often made things harder to recall. The more urgently he needed
to do something the greater was the chance of it slipping down one of the cracks in his brain. It was a familiar feeling for him. Often when he was sent on errands, or to collect something, he completely forgot what he was sent for. Quite frequently the original message got mysteriously replaced with another completely different one. So that once, when he was sent to the shops for a loaf, he came back with a packet of soap powder. He’d never forgotten the expression on his mum’s face when he’d handed it to her.

  ‘Wakey, wakey, Cy!’ Mr Gillespie waved his closed fist in front of Cy’s face. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’

  ‘Oh, ha, ha, sir,’ said Cy.

  ‘Ha, ha, yourself on to the bus,’ said Mr Gillespie. He turned to Mrs Chalmers. ‘This lot are half asleep today.’

  ‘They’ve been up half the night, learning and relearning their lines for the play tonight,’ said Ms Tyler.

  ‘They never take anything we do at school as seriously,’ said Mr Gillespie.

  ‘It’s because Matt is bringing his professional actors along tonight to mingle in their crowd scenes,’ laughed Mrs Chalmers. ‘They think that they’ll be talent-spotted and end up at the Cannes Film Festival or winning an Oscar.’

  ‘Ah, that explains a lot,’ said Ms Tyler. ‘The amount of make-up passed around the girls’ dormitory last night would have done the cast of Gone With the Wind three times over.’

  ‘Poor Cy must be so nervous about his part as the skald. I found him sleepwalking last night,’ said Mr Gillespie.

  Cy’s ears opened up at the mention of his name. Sleepwalking? Him? Last night? ‘Oh, no!’ he whispered, as the events of the previous night came rushing back in a flood, and with it a tide of rising panic. One memory stood out clearer than the rest. He turned and began pushing his way back down the bus.

  ‘I have to get off,’ he said desperately. ‘There’s something I need to collect.’

  ‘Sorry, Cy,’ said Mr Gillespie. ‘We’re booked in at the Railway Museum, and we’re late already.’ He closed the door and signalled the driver to pull away. ‘Sit down. Now!’ he ordered as Cy dithered in the passageway of the bus.

  Cy slumped down in his seat. ‘Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic,’ he muttered under his breath. He almost wished that he hadn’t remembered what he had. But the terrible fact was in his head and would now not go away. Instead of having his piece of dreamsilk tucked away safely inside his sweatshirt and crammed at the bottom of his holdall, it was now lying in Matt’s wicker stage props hamper.

  The visit to the Railway Museum went in slow motion for Cy. The huge engines, the massive works of engineering, the interactive displays hardly made any impression on him. When they sat to watch the film and video presentations he found that he couldn’t concentrate at all. His overriding anxiety was completely centred on the piece of dreamsilk. He was first back on the bus, and grabbed a seat right at the front. It was only as Mrs Chalmers led the rest of the class on to the bus that Cy realized that meant he would be sitting right next to her.

  ‘Well, Cy-bear-pet’s a real teacher-toady today,’ whispered Chloe as she came on the bus.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Cy. ‘Princess Chloe Clappermouth!’

  ‘Cyrus Peters!’ exclaimed Mrs Chalmers. ‘It does surprise me to hear you talk like that.’

  ‘She started it,’ said Cy, as Chloe went smirking up the bus.

  ‘Well, that does NOT surprise me,’ said Mrs Chalmers quietly.

  Cy looked at his teacher in astonishment. She winked back as she settled herself beside him. ‘I’ve got my eye on her,’ she said as she picked up the P.A. mike.

  When the bus stopped outside the hostel Cy jumped to his feet to be first off, and then realized that the driver had opened the middle doors at the same time. As he got caught in the surge towards the hostel Chloe elbowed her way close beside him.

  ‘You watch out,’ she said. ‘Nobody calls me names and gets away with it.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Eddie was now on his other side. ‘You need putting down.’ He nodded across at Chloe.

  ‘I don’t have time to talk to you,’ said Cy, and he pushed past them and raced towards the dining hall. He shoved the door open and ran inside. Matt was standing by the hamper. The lid was flung back and he was just about to reach down and pick up the Viking helmet. He glanced up in surprise as Cy appeared at his side.

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ Cy’s voice was taut with stress. He put his hand into the hamper and lifted the helmet. Curled inside it was the dark fluttering piece of dreamsilk. With a quick movement Cy took it and thrust it into his packed lunch bag.

  ‘Rehearsals in half an hour,’ Matt called after Cy as he hurried away.

  Outside the door Cy stopped and took in a deep breath. Now he had to avoid the Mean Machines, but first he should put the dreamsilk in his pocket. He began to open up his lunch bag.

  ‘Cy!’

  Cy jumped as he heard his name called. Mrs Chalmers was standing in front of him. She had a serious look on her face.

  ‘Can you come into the hostel office please?’

  Chloe and Eddie were standing beside the desk. They had on their most innocent expressions.

  ‘Cy,’ said Mrs Chalmers. ‘Chloe has lost a silver pendant which she bought at the Jorvik Centre although,’ Mrs Chalmers paused and gave Chloe a firm look, ‘you were told not to shop at that time. At any rate, Chloe says she dropped it as she left the bus, and Eddie thinks he saw you pick it up and put it in your packed lunch bag.’

  Cy gasped. The Mean Machines must have cooked this up between them on the bus. That was why they had jostled him so closely on the way inside. One of them had slipped the pendant into his lunch bag. Cy glanced down into his paper carrier. Nestling among the orange peel and half eaten crisps he could see the gleam of silver. ‘Oh, no!’ he whispered, and he felt his face go red.

  ‘That’s exactly what I said.’ Mrs Chalmers had taken Cy’s strangled whisper for a denial. She reached over and plucked the paper carrier from Cy’s fingers. ‘Let’s just settle this right away,’ she said briskly, and she upended the bag.

  Cy closed his eyes. And so he missed the looks of triumph on Eddie and Chloe’s faces changing to ones of puzzlement as Mrs Chalmers searched among Cy’s lunch leavings and failed to find the pendant.

  ‘Just an old piece of black cloth and some rubbish. I think you two owe Cy an apology.’

  Cy opened his eyes slowly as his teacher spoke. What had happened? He was sure he had seen the pendant in his bag. It couldn’t have just disappeared. Could it? And then Cy noticed the piece of dreamsilk lying on the desk, and realized that it could have – not disappeared exactly, but slipped from one TimeSpace to another. When Mrs Chalmers emptied his bag the pendant must have fallen into, and through, the dreamsilk. The piece of black silk lay unnoticed on the desk, and to Cy it seemed to quiver, vibrating, charged with energy.

  ‘Cy ran away into the dining room as soon as he came inside the hostel,’ said Chloe quickly. ‘He could have hidden it there.’

  Mrs Chalmers clicked her tongue in annoyance. ‘Cy,’ she began, ‘did you—?’

  ‘No,’ Cy spoke up at once. ‘I swear I didn’t. I’d left something there last night and I went to pick it up. You can check with Matt if you like. He was in the room with me.’

  ‘But the pendant was definitely in his bag,’ Eddie burst out. ‘We know because—’ He stopped as Chloe kicked his leg.

  ‘Because . . . why?’ Mrs Chalmers asked in an icy voice.

  ‘Because I saw him put it in,’ said Chloe.

  Mrs Chalmers’ eyes narrowed. ‘But that’s not what you told me at first, Chloe. You said that you had lost your pendant, and it was Eddie who saw Cy pick it up.’

  ‘I . . . I . . . yes that’s right,’ said Chloe.

  ‘We’re just mixed up about how it happened,’ added Eddie.

  ‘Getting “mixed up” about something as serious as this is extremely unwise,’ said Mrs Chalmers in a dangerous voice. ‘Perhaps I shoul
d telephone Cy’s parents. They might want to sue you for defamation of character. I will think about that and let you know what I decide. In the meantime,’ she raised her voice and spoke loudly and distinctly, ‘I want to hear no bad reports about either of you for the rest of this trip. If you two look sideways at anyone I will deal with you myself.’ She waved her hand and dismissed them. ‘Now go.’

  ‘And you can go too, Cy,’ she added kindly after Eddie and Chloe had slunk out of the room. ‘If those two start any more mischief, come and tell me quietly and I’ll sort them out.’ She made to gather up the debris on the desk. ‘I’ll throw this stuff away for you.’

  Cy leaped forward and grabbed the piece of dreamsilk. ‘Need this,’ he garbled. ‘Prop for the play, sort of.’ And as he left the room he stuffed his little bit of precious dreamsilk deep into his trouser pocket.

  CHAPTER •17•

  AND IT WAS still in Cy’s pocket later in the evening when Matt fastened the long flowing storyteller’s cloak around him, and pinned it at his neck with an ancient whorled Viking brooch.

  Matt stood back and adjusted the folds until he was happy. ‘OK?’ he asked Cy.

  Cy nodded. Even though they’d spent two hours rehearsing, his throat was closing over with nerves and he didn’t trust himself to speak. ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Matt punched him on the arm.‘You’ll be great.’ He pointed to the make-up table in the boys’ dressing room. ‘Do you want any make-up on?’

  Cy shook his head.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ grinned Matt, ‘’cos I don’t think there’s any left. Now go for a walk outside and mingle with the audience. The kids from the primary school along the road are sitting on groundsheets in the big field down by the river. Try to wind them up a bit about the story. Got your note card?’