by Mark Lukens
Only you know what you can do in your dreams.
Why did Saul’s words sound so ominous to her? Was there something, even after all of this time, that he was keeping from her? Obviously, even though he hadn’t come out and admitted it, he’d been deceptive about the wakeup ball. But she thought of that like a child learning to ride a bicycle and the parent claiming that they still had their hand underneath the seat of the bicycle so the child could build up the confidence to pedal without training wheels. Yeah, that’s what her wakeup ball had been—training wheels.
Saul had told her that she had a strong mind. He said everybody did, but he felt that hers was stronger than most. She agreed with him in a way; she’d always been strong-willed and disciplined, focused when it came to tasks. She remembered how focused she’d been through college, how determined she’d been to work for a Fortune 500 company. It seemed like she used to be able to will her wishes into existence. Where had that drive gone? Where had that confident, strong woman gone? Had this stalker broken her spirit that easily? No, the truth was that the stalker had been the last straw to break the back of her will and determination. The truth was that she’d been slowly deteriorating over the years, letting her confidence and her drive waste away, letting happiness slip away.
But not anymore. She was going to change. She was going to fight this. She was going to become the master of her own dreams, of her own ambition, her own life, her own reality. She wanted her old self back, that strong and brave person she used to be. She decided right then and there that she wasn’t going to let this psychic bully, or anyone else, intimidate her anymore. She was going to fight back . . . just like she used to.
Cassie lay down in bed, the room nearly dark. She didn’t strap the wakeup ball to her wrist—she didn’t need it anymore. She closed her eyes and began to dream . . .
*
In the dream, Cassie started out in the same abandoned factory that she’d been in so many times before. But she could tell right away that her stalker had abandoned this creation of his.
But she was sure that he had created other dark playgrounds by now, probably an infinite number of them.
She would find him.
The factory dissolved around her as she concentrated on him now. But it was hard to focus on him. She didn’t know what he looked like except for the mask and black suit that he wore. She didn’t even know his name. She didn’t know much about him except where he lived and the woman he lived with, Nora Bennett. Maybe Nora was his mother, his sister, his grandmother, his girlfriend, his wife.
“Bennett!” she screamed into the darkness swirling around her, taking a chance that Bennett was his last name. Lights faded in and out of existence, like suns, star systems, entire galaxies forming and then dying, swirling around her like she was God. “Bennett, I’m calling you!”
No answer for a moment and then: “Over here.” Just a whisper.
The world around her went completely dark; the only light a bluish-white illumination in the distance. The light seemed to shimmer, almost like it was under water or in a shifting fog.
Cassie willed herself closer and a moment later she was close to the light which was beyond a wall with a massive iron gate in the middle of it, spikes on top of it. She could see the outlines of ancient oaks around her with knotty, gnarled branches. And there were things among those trees.
But the true horrors were waiting beyond that gate, beyond that wall, in that cemetery.
The gates swung open with a screech.
Her stalker had prepared something for her inside this cemetery . . . something just for her. She could feel her heartbeat quickening, fear wanting to creep up and take over. She glanced down at her left wrist, but the wakeup ball wasn’t there. For a panicked second she thought she might be trapped here, that she was this madman’s prisoner now.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m stronger than that. I am the master of my body and mind, the master of my dreams, of my universe.”
Cassie stepped through the opened iron gates and into the hilly and overgrown cemetery with old marble and stone tombstones and monuments. There were more of the ancient, gnarled trees inside the cemetery, looming in the darkness. That bluish-white light lit up the graveyard enough to see, but most everything was still in shadows.
“Come on out, Bennett,” she yelled. “I know who you are now. I know where you live.”
Tentacles sprouted up from the graves, pushing their way up through the dirt and weeds, rising up into the air like gigantic cobras ready to strike. Some of the tentacles had suckers, others had thorny looking things, some had reptilian mouths full of teeth at the ends of them, others opened up like a flower. They looked like something from a Lovecraftian nightmare.
Cassie stood her ground as the tentacles rose to their full height, hovering there. She raised her hands like a wizard casting a spell. She had to think of something fast. She looked at the stone tombstones and thought about the tentacles turning to stone, and then the tentacles froze, turning gray and cracking, then crumbling to the ground in pieces.
A rustle in the grass off to her right.
It was him—he was running.
She chased him, and the cemetery morphed into his neighborhood street now. He was already at his house, already up the porch steps to the front door, and then inside. He slammed the door shut.
Cassie ran up onto the front porch and was at the door. She twisted the door handle.
Locked.
She concentrated, trying to turn the handle, willing it to turn—but it wouldn’t budge.
“Damn,” she said. She needed to find a way inside, but his home was a fortress to her right now. “I’ll be back,” she promised him and walked away.
*
Cassie woke up from the dream. She still had another hour before she needed to get ready for work, but she got up and took a quick shower. She fed her cats, packed a lunch, wolfed down a quick breakfast, and then she was out the door.
She called in sick to work on the way, using another one of the personal days that she had accumulated throughout the year. Then she called Zoe and let her know that she had something to do today; Zoe offered to cover for her without hesitation. “You go take care of things,” Zoe said almost like she knew exactly what Cassie was going to do. Who knew? Maybe she did.
Cassie drove to the next town and parked down the street from her stalker’s home. She waited for fifteen minutes, watching the house. She saw her stalker for the first time as he left the home and hurried out to his car. It was difficult to make out details from this distance, but she could see that he was average height and a little overweight, but it was hard to tell because his clothes looked baggy. He wore a black shirt and dark pants. He had shoulder-length hair that looked messy. He got into his car, and a moment later he drove away.
This was her chance.
She put her car into drive and drove down the street, parking in front of Nora Bennett’s home. She got out and walked up the steps of the front porch. It felt so strange being there on the front porch in real life—it felt just like it had in her dreams, everything exactly the same, the feel of the sagging porch boards under her shoes, the chipped paint on the front door, the hanging address number on the faded vinyl siding.
Cassie knocked on the door, waiting a moment, counting down forty seconds, then she rang the doorbell and knocked again. She saw the slight movement of the curtains in the window to the left of the door.
For a moment Cassie didn’t think the woman was going to answer the door, but then she heard the clinking of a security chain, the fumbling of locks and deadbolts. Then the door opened.
Nora was older than Cassie had expected. She assumed that the woman who owned this house was her stalker’s mother . . . and maybe she was, but now she thought maybe the woman was his grandmother. She looked to be in her late sixties or early seventies. She was tiny, at least four or five inches shorter than Cassie, and very thin. But she had kind eyes and a radiant smile, even though she se
emed a little cautious about opening up her door to a stranger.
“Hi, Miss Bennett,” Cassie said, beaming.
The woman seemed to melt a little with relief now that Cassie had mentioned her name.
But Cassie needed to think of something quickly. She remembered seeing the community college sticker on the rear window of her stalker’s car. “I go to school with . . .” she hesitated like she was trying to recall his name.
“Henry,” the old woman helped.
“Yes, Henry. We just started a class together. I’m his study partner. But I left some work for another class with him. I just called him, and he told me that he left it at home. He said he couldn’t come back because he needed to get to his early class, and he told me I could come by and get it.”
God, this was sounding lame. No way was Ms. Bennett going to buy this story.
The woman’s brows scrunched a little in suspicion. “He asked you to pick it up for him?”
“Yes. He said it’s in his bedroom. Somewhere on his desk, he said.”
“He doesn’t like anyone going in his bedroom,” Nora said, suddenly a little nervous. “He doesn’t even let me go in there.”
“I know,” she said, giggling a little like the idea of it was silly. “But this is kind of an emergency. I need that assignment for a different class. In fact, I’m kind of late right now.”
“I guess I could call Henry,” Nora said.
Cassie nodded immediately. “Yeah. Sure. You can use my phone if you want to. I’ve got Henry’s number right here.” She was lying, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle this if the woman called her on the bluff. But she tried to sound convincing.
“I better not bother him,” Nora said as if on second thought. “I guess it would be okay if you came in for a few minutes. As long as he said it was okay.”
Cassie could see the fear in the old woman’s eyes, and she suddenly realized that this woman was scared of Henry. He must’ve bullied her, too. Maybe he terrorized her—only the terror wasn’t in her dreams but in real life. She felt a surge of anger, but she controlled it, keeping up her act.
“Thank you soooo much,” Cassie told Nora. “You’re a lifesaver. I’ll probably fail this class if I don’t turn this assignment in.”
“Oh dear,” Nora said, opening the door even wider. “Come on in. You’d better hurry.”
“Thank you. I’m so sorry to be disturbing you like this. I don’t usually leave things behind, but I’ve just been so stressed out lately.”
“College can be stressful,” Nora said. “Do you want something to drink? I just made some tea.”
“Oh no, but thank you,” Cassie said. “You’re so sweet. I’ll just be a minute.” She hesitated, waiting for directions.
Nora suddenly realized why she was waiting. “Oh dear, I’m sorry. Just up the stairs there. Henry’s room is the first one on the right.”
“Thank you,” Cassie said and dashed up the steps.
The upstairs was dingy and gloomy—the whole house was. It needed cleaning, and it needed some sunlight. She found the first door on the right, and it was closed. She wondered if Henry kept his door locked, and she didn’t know what she was going to do if it was locked. But the door had a regular doorknob, and she didn’t see a place to insert a key. Besides, she was sure that Henry had Nora scared enough not to go into his room, and he didn’t need to lock it.
Cassie opened the door and stepped inside, her heart pounding; she felt both thrilled and scared at the same time.
The smell of Henry’s room hit her immediately; it smelled like dirty clothes, old food, and . . . other smells she’d rather not ponder. She wanted to open a window, but she didn’t think she would be here that long. She was just going to have to tough it out for a few minutes. The place was a mess: bed unmade, clothes all over the floor and heaped up on a threadbare recliner in the corner, the closet door open, and the interior stuffed with boxes and other junk. The bed was against the far wall, and right beside the bed, opposite the closet, was a student’s desk and an office chair. On the desk was a newer desktop computer. The walls were covered with posters and magazine cutouts of heavy metal bands and horror movies. A bookcase was crammed with horror novels and an assortment of bobble head dolls and monster movie figures.
Henry loved horror, Cassie realized; he loved to re-create these scenes in the dreams he entered. She saw some of the influences she’d seen in her own dreams on these walls: A Nightmare on Elm Street, Hellraiser, Alien. She also saw a movie poster with a shadowy killer on it who wore a leather hood—obviously an inspiration for the persona he portrayed in his dreams. Now she knew what she was working with, what she might be up against in the next dream. She knew Henry’s name now, she knew what fascinated him, and now she knew how to fight back.
She’d been inside Henry’s home now, inside his private space, invading it like he had invaded her dreams. And she wanted him to be aware that she had violated his privacy like he had violated hers—she wanted to leave him a message.
She looked through his desk and found a stack of photos, just some photos of Henry and other family members. There were photos of a wedding, a cookout, a concert. She selected the best photo of Henry, a clear photo of his face. He had boyish features even though he was a man. His hair was red, and he had a splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. She pocketed the photo. She also took an item of his, a plastic monster figure, shoving that down in her pocket too.
After finding a piece of paper and a marker, she scribbled out a quick note, leaving it right on the desk among Styrofoam plates with dried food stuck to them. The smell of sour milk was coming from a line of plastic cups on the top shelf of the desk above the computer monitor.
She looked at her note, reading the words silently: See you in your dreams.
As she turned to leave, Nora was standing in the doorway.
“Wow,” Cassie breathed out. “You scared me.”
“Did you find your assignments?” she asked.
“Yes,” Cassie said automatically, but then realized that she didn’t have anything in her hand.
Nora looked wary, and a little afraid, like she’d been duped, and now she was going to pay for it when Henry got home. Cassie felt sorry for the old woman.
“I’m sorry Henry’s room is such a mess,” Nora said. “I’ve tried to get him to clean it but . . . he just refuses.”
“It’s okay. I really should get going.”
Nora looked around at the room again, staring at the posters on the walls. “I don’t know why he’s so fascinated with all of that . . . that stuff.” It was like she couldn’t find the right words to express the horror on the walls.
“I know,” Cassie said. “I’m more of a romantic comedy fan myself.”
Nora seemed scared to enter the room, and she backed away as Cassie came towards the door. They stepped out into the hall together, and Cassie shut the door. “Thank you again for letting me get my assignment.”
The old woman didn’t say anything, but Cassie could see in her eyes that she knew that there was another reason she’d come up to this room.
“Is Henry your grandson?” she asked Nora.
The old woman shook her head slightly. “He’s my nephew. I let him live here because he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay.”
Cassie nodded, wondering if Henry had no family left, or no family who would let him live with them.
They walked down the stairs towards the front door.
“Are you going to be okay?” Cassie asked Nora as she stepped out the front door and onto the porch.
Nora smiled, nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
“Do you ever have bad dreams?” Cassie asked on impulse.
The question seemed to catch Nora off-guard, and she answered immediately. “Sometimes.” Then she thought about it for another few seconds, her face dropping more. “Quite often, actually.” She seemed so tired, on the verge of helpless tears.
Cassie took Nora’s ha
nd in hers and held it for a moment. The old woman seemed a little surprised by the gesture, but then she brightened, smiling again.
“I have a feeling those nightmares are going to be ending soon,” Cassie said.
Nora smiled sweetly like she wished she could believe that.
*
Cassie drove to the library and rented a handful of horror movies: Hellraiser, A Nightmare on Elm Street, and a few slasher films. She didn’t like horror movies, but she wanted to immerse herself in Henry’s world, to be able to fight back with whatever he might throw at her. She watched the movies, fast-forwarding through some of them as she waited for night to fall, waiting to go to sleep. After the sun had set, she took a hot bath, and then she meditated for an hour with candles burning and soft music playing. She was getting ready for battle tonight. When she went to sleep, she was going to find Henry and end this.
An hour later she was lying in bed, her eyes closed, the bathroom light on and the door open just a bit. She had the photo of Henry and his monster movie figure in each of her hands. Her cats hadn’t come to bed tonight; it was like they knew tonight might be a night of restless sleep for them and her.
Cassie concentrated on slipping into her dreams . . . into that abandoned factory where she usually started.
*
Cassie stood in the abandoned factory with its rusty, leaky pipes and the strange lights that illuminated the darkness. But Henry wasn’t here; and she kind of knew he wouldn’t be. She parted the walls of the factory and stepped out into the next world of swirling shadows, a landscape morphing into existence as she entered it.
She concentrated on Henry. She had the photo of him in her hand, and she glanced down at it. She also had the monster figure she’d taken from his bedroom—these were links to him from the waking world to the dream world.
“Henry Bennett!” she called out. “Where are you?”
She closed her eyes in the dream, holding the photo and the monster figure, concentrating on Henry . . . “seeing” him in her mind.