Liandra and the Dream Reader

by Belart Wright

  Since she couldn’t explore her mind as deeply as she wanted, she instead chose to explore more of the city’s nightlife. Gamla stan was beautiful during the day, but she liked it more when it was late like it was now. There was something about the nighttime energy that invigorated her and made her feel at peace. The people, the sights, even the air, all of it was better at night.

  She decided that now would be the perfect time to get a cool view of the canal. She’d liked spending time by the bridge, seeing so many people off to do their tasks of the day, but now she counted on it being much more beautiful at night. She walked briskly with her hands in her jacket pockets and quickly found herself by the bridge. She walked down its side to the waterfront and gazed down at the dark water below. She was right, the river was much more beautiful at night. The city’s multitude of lights reflecting off the night-darkened water looked like a hazy galaxy of multicolored planets and stars. The rest of the city on the other side of the bridge looked just as spectacular.

  It looked like she wasn’t the only one who’d decided to come out by the waterfront tonight. Someone was across the water doing some type of fitness routine. It looked very deliberate, like some sort of martial art. It was interesting, strange, beautiful, and strong. She doubled back to the bridge and slowly made her way across it. Cars passed and flashed her with their lights. Every few seconds she seemed to flicker, ghostly in the dark.

  Once on the other side, she glanced down at the martial artist and was shocked to see that it was Robert. He briefly glanced up at her but continued his deliberate and powerful-looking single blows and low stances. She couldn’t help but notice that he was shirtless and sweating despite the coolness of the night air.

  “You’ll catch a cold like that.”

  She was only partially serious. With his knees bent and left arm cocked, he burst forward and launched a lightning-quick straight-palm strike with his right hand.

  “Why are you here exactly, Liandra?”

  He asked his question with more curiosity than annoyance.

  “Well, I decided to check out what the canal looks like at night and then I found some crazy man doing martial arts by the waterfront with no clothes on. If you didn’t see me earlier, I was across the canal. What exactly are you doing?”

  He continued his practice with a repetitive soft striking motion with his right palm, extending his hip and straightening his back each time.

  “This? It’s Bajiquan, a strong and explosive art passed through generations of Chinese practitioners, mainly the bodyguards of the emperor. I practice it because it’s a strong and balanced style that keeps me in shape and helps keep my mind razor sharp. The focus it brings me is invaluable.”

  “You’re keeping your mind off your dreams?” she asked.

  “No, I’m practicing for the next one. This focus brings extra mental strength and fortitude. Eventually I’ll be able to beat the Minotaur with the strength of my will alone. I’ll crush him and then finally move forward in my life.”

  He stood up straight and then changed his stance to one totally different looking. His now outstretched arms, splayed hands, and hunched back reminded her of wrestling.

  “Is that really possible? That Minotaur’s been with you for a long time now.”

  “I plan to find out, but it seems so. I get closer to beating the beast every night that I dream.”

  Now his blows looked more familiar to her, more western. His strikes reminded her of MMA.

  “This style can’t be the same. What is it? It looks sort of familiar.”

  Now he stopped and looked at her while wiping his brow with his hand. He somehow looked like a bigger man with his shirt off. His physique was like a fighter’s. He picked his dark gray t-shirt up from the spot he’d folded it on the ground and rolled both of his arms in it while it laid against his bare chest.

  “It’s not a very popular style of fighting,” he explained. “Unless you’ve lived in Greece, your chances of hearing about it are slim.”

  He hastily rolled the shirt over his head and the rest of it fell down his body to his waist. He straightened it out once he had it on fully.

  “Half my mother’s side of the family is Greek. What’s the style called?”

  He seemed amused now as he looked at her with a slight smirk.

  “What you just saw me using was Ano Pankration, the standing version of the ancient Greek martial art Pankration.”

  “It looks strong. Is it effective against the Minotaur?”

  He looked right into her eyes and smiled at her. His expression was filled with pride.

  “So far it’s my best weapon against him. Would you care to learn it?”

  “Mmm, I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter 9:

  Go for the Gold

  Roocean scratched his head for the fifth time while he sat and read through today’s journal entry. Liandra patiently waited for him to say something, anything really. He stopped reading and focused on her.

  “This is fascinating on many fronts. I suppose I’d like to start by knowing what’s on your mind—besides the dreams I mean.”

  She allowed herself to think about it for a bit.

  “Well, I’m happy with our progress, excluding last night. I’m glad that I can finally control myself in my dreams even if it’s only a little. I’m thinking about a few of the holds and strikes that Robert taught me and how I can improve my form in Ano Pankration. I’m also wondering what I’ll be having for dinner tonight.”

  “Broiled fish for that last one, if you fancy it. But I notice that you stuck to positive feelings. What about the bad ones? No one only has positive thoughts and curiosities all the time.”

  She thought about it and found all her bad feelings and thoughts to be embarrassing. First, she couldn’t help but wish that she was older so that Robert would notice her more. He always seemed to notice other older women. One night she’d even overheard him at a payphone talking to what seemed like a girlfriend. He’d never mentioned her before, so maybe it was a family member. She felt dumb for even caring about any of that since there was a ten-year gap between them.

  Besides that, she also worried about him and his dreams of that dreadful Minotaur that he had to fight alone every night. She felt that his suffering was somehow her fault. Like she’d led it there, so she could enjoy peace in her dreams while Robert was tortured. Robert even admitted that his dreams had become worse since the night they’d shared the dream of the Minotaur.

  And, finally, it was now her fourth week in Stockholm. She’d have to go home at the end of the week because of the deal she’d struck with her parents before she came. She tried to talk them into letting her stay by telling them about her amazing progress, but they denied her anyway. They claimed that a month was enough time considering the progress she’d already made.

  She told him about her parents and the disappointment she felt about having to go back home as that was the least embarrassing thing on her mind. He quietly listened to her, staring with kind, understanding eyes, and nodded at her almost every word.

  “This tension between you and your parents ... their desire to break you from this place that you now consider safe and free, that may just be the central cause of this shift in your dreams. This lack of details in last night’s entry harks back to a few weeks ago. The imagery you’ve listed harks back even further than that to when I first met you.”

  Liandra hated that she was regressing, and it was even worse since she’d be leaving soon.

  “This isn’t a cause for panic. It may be a good turn of events. You just need to keep your mind’s eye open to further explore your dreamscape and its meanings. Even if you don’t like what you see, you must observe. Remember all the tools now at your disposal in your dreams. You have enough to record, examine, and make conclusions on the state of your dreams. If we’re to understand what this new image is, you’ll need to explore and observe every inch of it.”

  The only thing new in last night’s
dream was what she noted as “bright light” that was “under.” She now remembered the words better than the image itself.

  “We’ll finish this week by getting some good details on these dreams. By the time you’re home next week you’ll have everything you need to begin rigorous self-assessment. I’ll also mark out time for us to talk over the phone. It’ll be like you never left—honestly.”

  Except Robert won’t be there, she thought. And I won’t be able to help him.

  She only nodded and thought about how she’d miss all the freedom of this amazing city and this environment of self-discovery Roocean provided. The dream reader had grown his beard out and was dressed casually in deep crimson slacks and a black turtleneck. He eyed her over his glasses, a pose that honestly made him look like someone’s dad. He looked at her suspiciously as she rose up out of her seat and approached him. She could tell he was surprised when she bent down and hugged him. He simply sat still and awkwardly accepted it.

  “Thank you, Richard! For everything!”

  She beamed at him and then left his apartment for hers. She felt so tired now and it wasn’t even evening yet. She plopped down on her bed facedown and fell asleep almost instantly.

  She found herself in the void of her dreamscape again. It was dark all around her except for an annoying glow that came from under her. She managed to orient herself to look at it—a new ability—and saw that the light below was gold and insanely bright. The light seemed to pulse outwardly in intervals, causing her to blink every time it did.

  She wanted a closer look, so she mustered the will to move herself down towards the light, but she moved so very slowly. It took her forever and still she made it nowhere.

  “It’s below me, why am I not falling? Where’s my gravity? I need gravity.”

  She focused on what she remembered gravity felt like and suddenly found herself falling fast. She felt that dreadful feeling in the pit of her stomach, the air being sucked out of her. She knew if she continued on like this that she’d end up waking up, so she willed herself to slow her falling with a simple chant.

  “I am in control.”

  “I am in control.”

  “I am in control.”

  Now she was descending like a single falling feather, the bright golden light all around her. It felt warm and protecting. She was close to the center of it, to whatever was brightening this dark space. She just needed to glimpse it and tell Roocean what it was. Maybe it was the source of all her troubles. Maybe her seeing it could cure everything and return her to normal. There was a chance that it could at least help her understand why she was so troubled. Once she figured that out, maybe she could help Robert.

  It was hot now. She felt like she was in the pit of the sun, but it was worth it because she saw the source of all this heat and light. Looking at it confused her even more.

  It was a long golden spear with a razor thin point.

  “Why is this here?”

  She took it all in, every detail of its ornate etchings. She would remember it all when she confided in Roocean later. She’d hop to her journal as soon as she woke up to note the golden owl heads on either side of the spearhead, how they had huge eyes made of silver that seemed to stare at her angrily. She’d remember the golden vines that wrapped from around the butt of the spear’s shaft on up to the base of the spearhead.

  She knew she couldn’t forget a sight so magnificent, but now she wanted to know how heavy it was. This was fueled by her curiosity and her newfound desire to test the limits of her control. A hand appeared in front of her face—her hand. She reached out for the spear ... and grabbed it. A rush of sensation coursed through her. Suddenly she felt invincible, but she was still scared, very scared. She wrapped both her hands completely around the spear and the world spun out of control, but the glow still encompassed everything.

  She felt hot all over, burning. And when the burning intensified more than she could handle, she screamed out and found herself somewhere else entirely. Gone was the vacuous world of her dreams, and even the golden glow that had surrounded her. Now she was back in her room, in Stockholm. She was awake, delirious, and sweating heavily. There was a banging at the door and two yelling voices that she couldn’t quite comprehend. She instead focused on the weight she felt in her hands. She looked down and gasped at what she saw there, and that old familiar feeling of despair returned to the pit of her stomach.

  There was a loud crash by the front door and she heard loud footsteps running straight for her room. She had nowhere to hide herself or this thing. They burst into her room yelling her name. She finally recognized them as Roocean and Robert when one of them flipped on the light. Her senses then began to quickly return and she saw how horrified they looked. She glanced down at the golden spear she was tightly gripping in her hands and recalled where it was from. Robert pointed at the spear.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s ... it’s from my dream.”

  Roocean could not have looked more horrified.

  Chapter 10:

  Craftes

  Roocean stared at her with an astonished look on his face.

  “It’s from where?” Roocean asked transfixed by both the girl and the spear.

  Liandra knew he wanted her to say something other than what she’d just said, but she couldn’t.

  “It’s from my dream.”

  He backed away from her and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “I’m going to let everyone know that you’re okay,” he explained.

  When he saw her blank expression, he explained.

  “You were screaming, probably woke the whole building, then we broke through your door. I’ll have to explain to them. I want you to get to your journal quickly and note everything from your dream down.”

  He turned his attention to Robert.

  “Can you clean up near the front while she writes?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Okay, and don’t interrupt her,” Roocean said. “I need her accounts to be as clear as possible.”

  Roocean looked at her and the spear and cautiously approached. He hesitated, and then reached out for it. He winced as he accepted it with both hands, gently taking it from Liandra. She suddenly felt empty and cold, like a vital piece of her had just been ripped away. Roocean took it and carefully placed it in the closet. He then silently walked out of her bedroom with Robert, who gave her one last concerned look. She reached out for her journal and pen on her nightstand and began furiously writing down the details of her dream—every single one of them.

  ******

  After all the ruckus in the hallway had died down, Roocean came back into her apartment to check her journal. Like before, he’d allowed Robert to stay. She wondered why Robert was here so late with Roocean anyway. It was just a little before midnight. She was beginning to feel drowsy again and the quiet of the room wasn’t helping any. Robert stood in the doorway taking turns staring at Roocean reading at her nightstand, her fidgeting with her blanket as she waited for Roocean, and whatever it was outside the window that interested him so much. Once he tired of that, he walked around her bed and opened the closet door. Roocean took a break from reading and eyed him warily. When Robert’s curiosity persisted, he gave a warning.

  “I suggest you don’t touch that.”

  Robert glanced at him, then stared back at the golden spear in the closet.

  “Why? Is this thing really from her dream?”

  “I’m certain it is. It radiates with some strange energy inside of it. I felt it as soon as I picked it up. I don’t think it’s wise for you to touch it. It’s just a hunch, but there’s no telling what it might do to you.”

  “So, you don’t know for certain. Maybe it can help me in my own dreams.”

  “Don’t touch it!”

  “Relax, old man. I’m just thinking out loud. If I could take something like this to my dream, I could win.”

  Even Liandra could see the massive curiosity in Robert’s pale bl
ue eyes, but he looked sort of angry too.

  “So, Liandra, are you a mystic?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do you or anyone in your family practice craftes?”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” she said. “You mean witchcraft?”

  “Sure. Do you?”

  “No. No one I know does witchcraft and none of us believe in it either.”

  “Then what is this in the closet?”

  She could definitely hear the anger in his voice now.

  “I don’t know,” she stammered. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Roocean, is this the work of a crafte?” he asked, fixated on the spear.

  “It may be,” he said cautiously. “But I must know, how long have you known about craftes?”

  “Since I was a young boy,” Robert said, looking from Roocean to Liandra and back.

  “And you can use them?” Roocean asked.

  “I’m an amateur. I only know the basics.”

  “And you’re self-taught?”

  “Mostly.”

  “This whole situation is too fantastic for words .... What have I stumbled into with the two of you?”

  “We need answers from you, Roocean, not more questions!” Robert said. “Tell us something, man! You know something!”

  “Okay, come sit. You’re right. We’ll figure this out right now. First, Liandra, I need you to get rid of that weapon. The longer it stays outside of you, the more of your Life Force it’ll drain.”

  “Life Force? What do you mean?”

  Roocean walked around the bed to the closet.

  “I’ll show you,” he said.

  He picked up the spear and carefully handed it to her as she sat on her bed. She took it up with both of her hands and could now feel it humming beneath her fingertips. Suddenly a warm sensation came over here. She looked at Roocean uncertainly.