1. Any dream won't do!
The night sky was covered with heavy clouds, full of the promise of rain. The wind blew across the land, singing the song of winter around the small town of Rotan.
It was just after ten o'clock and Jason Smith is walking on his way home from work. At first glance his face looked older than thirty six. His higher than average height conceals his now rounded mid section. His blue-grey eyes are framed by his bushy wild eyebrows as always. And the years have not diminished his strong and handsome face. His ash-blond hair is cut short, but still retains a hint of a curl. He always hated his curly hair. His mother used to say, "You can't do anything with it but cut it short," and after the one time he tried to grow it, just to try to prove her wrong, he gave up on the idea.
He felt the exhaustion screaming in his legs, he did not look forward to the walk home.
Tonight my apartment feels five miles away, not just five blocks, he sighed and looked up.
Looks like rain. He shook his head and sighed again.
This day was too long. Maybe I should just go down Thief's Alley.
The shortcut home was well known for its problems, drug dealers, prostitutes, and hobos that frequented the alley. It started raining. He zipped his jacket up.
This is all I need. For Pete's sake, was my day not bad enough?! He moaned to himself. He stepped up his pace until he reached the entrance to the alley.
He stopped and looked down the gloomy alley. The concrete was cracked in places. To his left he could see the drainpipe from Joe's Diner overflowing and water running down the alley. Some light spilled in to the darkness though a small, dirty window halfway down the alley from another shop. Further down to the left of the dark and dreary alley stood an old rusty dumpster filled to capacity as usual. The wind carried the stench hanging over the dumpster out to him. He quickly placed a hand over his nose for a moment to try to repel the unwanted aroma of rotten leftovers. On the opposite side of the alley where the wall still had its color stood Dan Gilmore's barbershop. He always kept his part of the alley clean and tidy. The outside light was still on. The colorful poster next to the door was clearly visible in the light:
'YOU CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!
HELP TO IMPROVE YOUR
SURROUNDINGS.
USE SOME COLOR'.
A smile wanted to creep back onto his face 'this is so just like Dan' but it only lasted an inkling of a moment. Not too far away were some old trashcans that had already been knocked over and turned out by the creatures of the nighttime. It looked quiet and empty. A shiver ran down Jason's whole body.
Taking a deep breath, he started down the dark and desolate alley. Unconsciously he quickened his pace. 'First thing when I get home is a shot of whisky and then a hot bath.' James could taste the whisky in his mouth warming him up.
'It would make up for this crappy day.' But he knew it would not, could not make up for the bad day he had.
He thought back to his day. 'Nancy was a real bitch today; she always knows how to fuck up a good day.' Just thinking about his boss's girlfriend made him upset. 'She was soft on the eyes. She had brown eyes, long blond hair, and a nice smileeven if her mouth seemed too big for her faceher long slender legs and model body made up for that flaw, she was well…' he smiled to himself 'what many a man's dreams are made of… But… when she opened her mouth' he felt himself grinding his teeth 'and that screeching voice starts penetrating your ears…' A shiver ran down his spine. He shook his head as if to shake the memory of that women's voice out of his mind. The sound seemed to get louder.
Pain filled his ears and he stopped, shaking his head 'No….!' the thought ran through his head and then he realized that the noise was not in his head, it was something else. He looked around.
The sound seemed to becoming from around the dumpster. Not sure what to do or what to expect, he thought, 'Why did I come this way? Lord, I know better. I don't feel like running or fighting today. I just want to get home.' He was angry and upset with himself for coming down this alley.
The memory of two years ago when the three druggies caught him off guard and beat the crap out of him jumped into his mind. They left him for dead. He spent two days in a coma and a week in hospital. He was lucky to have survived the ordeal. He had suffered only a blue eye, broken left arm, three broken ribs, and a mild concussion. Unconsciously his hand touched his right side where the three ribs were broken.
A big black rat ran across the over-filled dumpster and caused a tin can to fall to the ground with a loud clang. His heart jumped to his throat, and adrenalin started kicking the energy back into his legs
"What the fuck am I doing here…?"
He stood still for another second listening for any sound that would indicate another person and then he saw it. Or thought he saw a movement in the shadows. He tried to swallow but his throat was too dry. Then again he saw the movement, slowly at first. A shadow seemed to be moving out, from the darkness. It seemed to be moving towards him. He tried to see in to the darkness but could not find the owner of the shadow now moving faster in his direction. He felt every hair on his body stand up.
He gave a couple of steps backwards, and then quickly turned around and headed back the way he came. Jason had no desire to meet the owner of the mysterious shadow. But the noise did not stop. It seemed to be growing louder. He hastened his footsteps; he did not dare to look around. He just wanted to get out of the alley. His heart was racing so fast it left him gasping for air.
It felt as if he was getting nowhere. He could not explain the uneasy feeling that was building in the pit of his stomach. He felt eyes burning into his back, closing in on to him. He was almost running now.
'Where is the bloody corner? Everything looks so dark.'
He felt the uneasy feeling in him grow and his heart pounded in his chest. He thought he heard a voice calling a name, but it was not his name, and yet it sounded so familiar.
"But that is impossible." He turned his head slightly as if he wanted to look behind him all the hair on the back of his neck stood up and then decided against it.
He heard the noise follow him, and the anxieties build up inside. He did not even notice the rain pouring down around him now. His heart was pounding so hard now it felt like it would jump out his mouth at any second. As he reached the corner he felt the touch on his shoulder, he turned around ready for anything.
A gust of wind blew against his face and forced him to close his eyes for a second. He opened his eyes and looked around. What he saw is not what he had expected.
The alley was empty. The shadow was gone. No noise, no sound. Not even the wind could be heard. He stopped.
Jason sighed, and made a soft nervous giggle. He did not notice that he had put up his hands ready to fight. Was it all just his imagination, or was he going crazy?
'No I'm just overworked,' nodded his head trying to convince himself.
'Yeah, yeah that's it, just overworked.' But he knew it was not so, he knew it was coming for him, he just did not know how or why. He laughed nervously to himself again; he just could not stop shaking. He looked at his hands. They were still trembling.
He felt the rain falling on his hands, and then he felt a strange sensation like needles running up his feet. His feet were stuck to the spot, he could not move. He looked down but saw nothing. The needles were running up his back now into his guts and up, up, up. The sensation of fear was overwhelming.
"O my god, no, no… not now. It's not time yet!" He shouted in his head for his mouth was silenced by the paralyzing fear that was creeping up his whole body.
"I have more time…. I need more time! Please… not yet!" He started shaking. His whole body became numb, the night became even darker. He felt the fear now running up his chest. He could not control it, he could not breath. His eyes were the only moving part he could move now.
Then he saw it. The shadow was back, dark and glooming moving towards him. The shadow was coming closer still; it was almost by his feet. He tried to resist but instinctively knew it was too late. His whole body was shaking again, every bone in his body felt like jelly shaking. Then it reached him. He heard the voice again calling him.
"Jason. Jason… its time." the voice was empty and hollow as if in a dream, it seemed to be so far and yet, so close.
"NO! … NO! ... It's not time yet, I need more time! ..." he was shouting in his head so loud he could hardly bear it. Everything seemed to be shaking. An unbearable pain started running down his left hand and up to his shoulder. Shaking, everything was shaking. He tried to move. The shadow was climbing up his legs.
The voice was louder now and the shaking more intense. He closed his eyes.
"Jason. Jason, its time…!"
"Stop, stop no not yet, no not yet, NOoooooo!"
"Jason, wake up!" the voice was a mere murmur and strangely familiar. Sudden he was sitting up in his bed, panting very hard it felt as if his throat was on fire. He opened his eyes but everything was hazy.
He looked around and blinked a couple of times before the room became identifiable. Still shaking and soaking wet, he looked around he was in his room. The room was empty.
"It's just a dream," he sighed with relieve. "Just a dream." He said to himself as he fell back onto his bed.
He rolled over and reached for his bedside table and grabbed his cigarettes, lit a smoke with a shaking hand, trying to calm his nerves. He felt the smoke filling his lungs and after a couple of quick drags from it, he started to shake less.
"How many times can you have the same dream?" –he shouted to the roof, and he felt the nausea creeping up inside – 'I haven't had a good night's sleep in over a week now…' he closed his eyes and waited for the nausea to subside.
Before he could finish his cigarette the nauseating feeling became too much. .
He got up and ran in the bathroom smoldering cigarette still in hand. He reached the toilet just in time to be sick.
Later when he trusted himself not to be sick again he stood up. He discarded the burnt out cigarette but that was still clenched between his fingers. He dragged himself to the yellow stained bathroom basin and washed his face and brushed his teeth trying to brush away the bad memory of the nightmare he had just had. He looked up into the mirror; the face staring back at him was much younger than the thirty something year old man in his dream. He had the same blue-grey eyes and bushy eyebrows. His hair was somewhat longer and not as curly. His twenty two year old body showed no sign of the round middle but boasted a well formed six-pack. The dark sleep deprived circles under his eyes, was the only thing that made him look older.
He dragged himself back into the room and sat down on his bed and just pushed the tangled bed sheets to one side. He looked at the tiny clock radio on his bedside table and saw that it was only three am Saturday morning. The room was fairly small and semi lit, thanks to the neon light from the twenty four hour coffee shop across the street. The half faded, dark blue curtains that had been hanging there for the last three years, did not help much to keep the light out.
In the far corner next to the window, stood a small dark wooden bookshelf, half full of books about dreams, the meaning of dreams and ghost and the paranormal. Besides the bookshelf was a tiny blue painted single draw desk filled with even more books on translating dreams. On the right hand corner of the table, was an old white and black tin ashtray overloaded with cigarette butts, and next to it four empty beer bottles from the previous night.
Jason walked over to the small blue desk and picked up one of the beer bottles and drank the remaining flat beer. He opened the draw and grabbed a fresh packet of cigarettes, opened it and lit one. He went over to the widow, pushed the curtain to one side and stood there smoking his cigarette, looking out through the opened window into the darkness of a sleeping town, knowing that he would not sleep again tonight.
