All Twilight characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer.
DreamCatcher
Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together
- Eugene Ionesco
"Shouldn't you have a couch in here?"
Bella concealed a grin by faking a cough as she sat across from the fidgeting young man. "No. Modern psychology doesn't take place in couches or with the client in the supine position." She smiled warmly at the student, who continued to look baffled as well as uncomfortable. "Is this your first time participating in a psychology experiment at the university?"
"Supine?" he asked, wrinkling his nose.
Bella jotted down "possible attention issues" in her notebook before replying, "I'm sorry. Technical jargon. It means lying down."
He shrugged.
"I'd like to start by thanking you for your willingness to be interviewed about your dreams. As you know from reading the consent form, you will be anonymous. Though our sessions will be voice recorded, a number has been assigned to this session and you will be represented in all documentation as…" Bella glanced down at her notebook, "as Client 023. At no time will any information be shared that could reveal your true identity."
Although she had giving him the number 23, he was, in fact, her very first client; best not to let him know that. She was already fighting her nerves and her fingers clutched her leather-bound notebook, a recent gift from her father. It didn't help that the freshman psychology student sitting across from her was distractingly good-looking.
For him, participating in a graduate research study was a mandatory part of receiving a passing grade, but for Bella, this session marked the beginning of her long planned-out thesis on dreams and their underlying purpose. Many scholars in modern psychology proposed that dreams served no purpose, simply the brain's regurgitation of random thoughts and images it had taken in during the waking hours. Bella, however, planned to support another theory. Her hypothesis stated that dreams served to open our minds to ideas or behaviors our waking minds dismissed as too radical or too socially or culturally unacceptable. In dreams, she believed, humans were free to experiment and try behaviors they may-or may not-transfer to real life. In other words, dreams were our testing ground.
So many years of dedication, discipline and sacrifice had led up to this moment. And now it was here. The big push to the finish of her graduate degree.
"I don't think I've properly introduced myself." She extended her hand across to her client. "I'm Isabella Swan. I'm here to listen to you without judgment."
The handsome man smiled in return and took her hand, giving it two polite pumps. "I'm Rich, er, client 0-2-3. And, I've never been to a shrink before."
"Then good news … you still haven't. And your head will not be reduced in size, I promise." Rich was kind enough to laugh at her shaky attempt at psychology humor. "I'm not a psychologist yet, but I do have the qualifications and background to counsel clients. Besides, think of this more as a safe sharing place than a place of analysis." And to break the ice, she added, "And since your needs are most important, you are welcome to lie on my floor if you have any desire to be supine."
Rich nodded, but as the silence lengthened, he looked down and began to fiddle with the drawstrings on his oversized green and gold University of Alaska hoodie. Bella sensed he wanted to share something, but was considering if what he had to say would be accepted. Was he was weighing the risks versus the benefits?
"It's okay. You can begin whenever you are ready, Rich," Bella added reassuringly, noting his coyness only added to attractiveness.
"I have had this reoccurring dream," he began confidently, though the vasodilatation in his face suggested embarrassment was lurking just under the surface.
"Perfect," Bella said excitedly, then regretted her obvious enthusiasm. She reminded herself to put the needs of the client first. She relaxed her posture.
Rich mimicked her action, but continued to look downward. "It starts out with me going on a date with a hot girl, you know. Perfectly normal, right?"
He glanced up at Bella, no doubt seeking approval, she thought. She kept her expression neutral, but nodded her head to encourage him to continue.
"But somehow it always ends with me, um, unclothed, tied to a piece of furniture while my former English teacher, um, how shall I say … disciplines me, um, with a ruler."
Composure blown, Bella dropped her notebook.
Later that day, Bella curled up exhausted on her bed holding her cell phone tight to her ear.
"Well, how did it go?" her father, Charlie, asked. "Did you cure any of the crazies? It sure would make my job a lot easier."
Bella's mind briefly replayed the wide variety of dreams recanted by her subjects. She pushed away the inappropriate images brought on by Rich's disclosure. She thought it best, and more ethical, to not discuss any of that with Charlie. Her father had a tendency to overreact, anyway, and would probably insist Rich was using her to get "his jollies" through sharing his explicit fantasies. Besides, Bella had in part already suspected it. Rich had become increasing detailed about his dreams involving older women in dominate positions the more she seemed to listen without passing judgment. She felt like he was scrutinizing her reactions as much as she was scrutinizing his.
"You know I'm only conducting research for my thesis. And, I sure hope you know 'crazy' is so politically incorrect."
"Bells, we booked a guy today for trying to put a horse saddle on a wild moose. The beast damn near killed him. Tell me he wasn't crazy."
"Well… There are ten times more mentally ill Americans in prisons and jails than in state psychiatric hospitals," Bella conceded. "I'm not surprised Anchorage PD has to deal with its share."
"Exactly. You know, we could make a great team. Make a difference in the treatment of the crazies, er, the mental health challenged. As chief, I can probably make a strong case for hiring a psychologist to work with the department…."
Bella grinned broadly. Charlie had always referred to her as "his buddy" and since she had moved away from home into a small campus-area apartment six months ago, she could tell he'd been missing her companionship. "Maybe. Let me get the special letters behind my name and we'll go from there."
"Sounds like a deal. Listen, I'm gonna let you go. It's late."
"Yeah." Bella yawned. "More sessions tomorrow. Night, Dad."
"Oh, one more thing…," he added quickly.
"What?"
"Keep some pepper spray near by. I don't want any sex-crazed underclassmen taking advantage of … your listening skills. If you know what mean."
How did he always know? "Got it, dad. Good night."
Already in her pajamas, Bella pulled back the covers of her twin bed. Just before switching off her bedside lamp, she readied her dream log which contained four years of carefully documented dream details and insights. Her journal had actually made sleep something Bella cherished. Not only did she find it easy to quickly fall into REM sleep, after years of recalling the minutiae of her dreams, she had actually become quite skilled at it. Each night she entered sleep filled with anticipation of what her dreams might reveal about her inner psyche.
As her clocked flashed midnight, Bella's eyes began sweeping back and forth under her fair lids…
"Tell me what you want?" she commanded as a cracking sound echoed in the dimly lit counseling room.
"I want you to punish me," Rich responded, his naked body trembling with illicit pleasure.
"That's right. You've been very bad. Never leave a participle dangling," she barked and delivered another whack of a ruler across his reddening behind.
"Thank you, Mistress," he quaked.
A subtle hint of movement caught the attention of her peripheral vision. Something – or someone—was lingering in the shadows in the corner of the room observing their behavior.
No longer interested in the young man cowering on his hands and knees before her, Bella called out, "Who's there?"
The figure seated in a chair leaned forward. Faint lighting from behind outlined him, but the details of his features remained concealed. His legs were crossed and he appeared to be holding a notebook. "I see you are taking client-centered counseling to a whole different level."
Everything around her blended shapelessly into the dimness. Bella stood alone, across the room from her faceless accuser. Embarrassment replacing pleasure.
"At the very least," he continued in his low, neutral tone, "I observe a very serious infraction of boundaries. At the most, a violation of ethics."
Bella crossed her arms. "Thank you, Jiminy Cricket, for pointing out the error of my ways. You do realize this is a dream, non-reality. Your admonishments have no place here."
The stranger chuckled low and deep. For some reason, it reminded her of a fathomless abyss. Her spine tingled.
"I get it. You think I am your conscience?" the stranger mocked.
"Of course you are. What other explanation can there be to your presence?" Bella reasoned, though her anger was growing. Even as a student of psychology, she didn't like head games.
He sat back. Unperturbed, he resumed scribbling in his large notebook. This tipped Bella's anger into stunned outrage.
He raised his head and examined her as if appraising a piece of artwork. "Judging from your behavior and attitude toward my presence, I surmise you are in need of a sexual outlet, even if the act involved some degree of deviant behavior. You just can't admit it to yourself."
"You're deluded!" Bella shot back.
"Am I?" he challenged. "Or are you? Remember, you just accused me of being a part of you," he tsked. "You are a veritable fountain of defense mechanisms. Are you familiar with denial? The lady doth protest too much."
Before Bella could object, he rose suddenly from the chair. His abrupt, fluid advance surprised her and she recoiled in fear. That is, until she saw him fully illuminated. He was pale and tall with an athletic build – an Adonis of chiseled marble. His disheveled bronze hair was in stark contrast to his impeccable professional attire. He was beautiful in an ethereal way; the stuff of dreams and nightmares alike.
Though he moved toward her, he stopped short of reaching her and tossed his notebook at her feet. Caught between alarm and curiosity, Bella glanced at the notebook. She quickly realized it was a sketchbook. He had been drawing, not taking notes.
Relief was quickly replaced with a flood of emotions. The open pages were filled with detailed pencil sketching two people. They were both naked and contorted in a variety of sexual positions; the woman's face was twisted in various expressions of pleasure and pain.
In a sudden clarity that only happens in dreams, she saw the woman was her. Her lover and the artist were one in the same person.
Her eyes rose slowly to meet his and she was certain her face was flushed.
"Have you anything to deny now?" He smiled crookedly as if knowing her deepest desires. "I thought not."
Bella bolted upright. Alone in her room, arousal prickled throughout her body as if her skin was charged by an electrical current.
Grabbing her pad and pen, she began to write furiously. It was a dream unlike any other. The vividness of the dream and the accompanying burst of endorphins triggered by the bold, sexy stranger had her mind and body charged with energy. So much so, sleep eluded her for the rest of the night, and by the time her alarm went off, Bella had barely caught a wink.
Although the day was busy with a round of new student clients and debriefing with her professor, her dream haunted the quiet pauses between her thoughts. When she returned to her apartment that afternoon, Bella reread her dream journal to search for clues to her dream's underlying meaning. She felt tortured by the forbidden behaviors she had engaged in and the pleasurable, liberating feelings they elicited. Bella shook her head. The conflict in her mind lingered even as the finer details faded.
However, by bedtime, she had dismissed the outlandish nocturnal images as a result of increased cortisol brought on by the stress of having her own client load for the first time. And, a depressing lack of sexual contact with a living human being in way, way too long.
After some deep breathing exercises, Bella eased herself under the covers and switched off the light. Tonight, she would visualize pleasant things…like the plane ride she took over Denali National Park last summer.
The images gently guided her into sleep…
As she looked out at the vista, the jagged peaks reflected in the shimmering waters, the droning pilot's voice became familiar. She looked over to see a now familiar handsome face.
"You again?" she asked.
"Did you miss me?"
"An expert in psychology, an artist, and a pilot? Are there no bounds to your abilities?"
He shrugged. "Your dream, not mine. I'm just following the script."
Being seated so close to him in the two-seater plane, Bella could see his eyes were a brilliant green, his hair an explosion of color – different shades of browns, reds, and golds. He wore blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt. He looked to be about her age. His fingers were long and his grip firm on the stick.
His head turned quickly toward Bella and she looked away, embarrassed she had been caught staring.
"Have you ever seen the aurora borealis from Mt. McKinley?"
"No," she admitted.
"Picture it," he instructed.
She closed her eyes.
He laughed, not unkindly, at her dream naïveté. "Open your eyes, silly girl. This is your dream. You are the one in control."
Bella gasped as the scene around her had changed. The plane was gone. The blue water transformed into rock and snow beneath her feet. The sky shifted with color. She stood next to the man in her dreams, the only constant thus far, and amid green swirls against a velvet black backdrop.
"How did you do that?" Bella asked, amazed by the colors dancing so close above them.
"I didn't. Your mind extrapolated this scene from your previous experiences, what you know to be true about the Northern Lights and the mountains, and created this." He gazed up at the sky and smiled, a smile as dazzling as the ionized particles twinkling above them. "It is a very accurate representation of the real thing. By the way, my name is Edward."
With a jerk, Bella awoke.
Nearly knocking over her light, she fumbled for the switch and snatched her notebook. Blinking her eyes to adjust to the light, she quickly scribbled down every detail including the conversation she had with…Edward.
"My conscience has a name?" she spoke aloud, hoping the sound of her own voice would calm her racing heart.
She reread her notes, straining her memory for more detail. And then a chill ran down her back. "I've never seen the Lights from the mountain. But he has."
With a shaky hand, Bella wrote in her journal: He is not me.
Bella's day felt disjointed, frayed at the ends. She kept replaying the conversation with the man in her dreams. His presence so consuming it dwelled constantly in the fringes of her frazzled mind.
Fortunately, she did not have counseling sessions; it was her day to review the recorded sessions and work on follow up plans. But no matter how much she tried to focus on the recorded voices from her sessions, they eventually became his voice. Edward.
She didn't mention the previous night's dream to anyone. It was too off-the-chart weird. No, this was something she'd have to investigate herself, get to the root of before sharing. What were her dreams trying to communicate to her? What was the underlying meaning behind the image of Edward?
The need to know, to riddle it out, consumed her. Alone in her apartment, she took an over-the-counter sedative (or two) and tucked into bed early. But this time, she attempted to pre-program her mind. She practiced questions and decided she would truly control the situation.
It wasn't long before the darkness took her down…
She found herself walking up the steps of the Police Department. However, Charlie wasn't there. No one was. She understood the essence of her setting. This was a safe place for her. Knowing where she needed to go, Bella followed the empty halls to the holding cells.
Edward was sitting on a bench, his head lowered. Shadows of the bars lined his body.
Without looking up, he spoke, "Have I done something to cause you to fear me? I'm not used to being caged."
Bella approached silently. The lighting was low, but he seemed to glow with a light of his own. He seemed to be a figure of contradictions. Light and dark. Overbearing substance and slight shadow. She stood before the bars, remaining more than an arm's length away. "I know you say I'm in control. I don't feel I am. This time, I want answers."
"Control. I see. It's important to you. You are so regimented, so precise in your studies. Even to the point of placing prestige over personal pleasure. So much work for what reward?"
When Bella didn't respond, it appeared he acquiesced to her request. "You shall have your answers." He looked up. "Will you join me in here?"
"No."
"So this is an interrogation?"
"An investigation," Bella replied, though guilt arose like bile in the back of her throat. Grinning sardonically to cover her doubt, she added, "Still, would you like me to conjure up an attorney for you?"
"No. I only want you."
Her grin quickly faded as his tone cut through to her bones. "Are you real?"
"Touch me and find out." Edward rose and approached the bars. Something about the way he moved reminded Bella of a jungle cat on the hunt - beautiful to behold, yet deadly. When he stood before her, he extended his arm toward her through the bars. "Go ahead. I know you want to. Your scientific mind needs this affirmation."
"You think you know my mind?" She stared at his outstretched arm, tempted, yet survival instinct told her to stay put.
"I'm here, aren't I? I'm in your mind."
"And during the day?" Bella stammered. "Are you in my mind as well?"
Edward frowned. "No. I can only enter your dreams. But I watch you by day. Walking on campus…"
Bella stepped back. Her back pressed against the wall.
Still, Edward kept his arm – his hand –reaching for her. "Don't be afraid. Your dreams cannot harm you."
Bella scoffed. "I've seen Nightmare on Elm Street."
Edward laughed; his smile disarming. "I've seen it, too. Gross misrepresentation." He wiggled his fingers. "I know you. Trust me, Isabella."
She wasn't sure about trust yet, but damn it, this was her dream and she was going to take control!
Bella moved forward rapidly and grabbed his hand. Hoping to catch him off guard, she yanked him toward the bars – maybe she could teach him some humility. However, his reaction was just as unexpected. Edward used the sudden close proximity to wrap his arms around her waist. He stood a good six inches taller than her. She looked up at him as his arms kept her firmly secured against the bars and so close to him. She could swear she felt her heart pounding in her chest.
"I thought I was in control," she hissed.
"You are. This is what you want."
His words hit her like a slap across the face. Was this what she wanted? A man to take control? He was right about her - she was always the logical one, clear headed and aloof at times…most times. Dedicated to her studies and her goal, she had little time for navigating dating and the trivialities of relationships. But that meant she also denied herself the closeness that came with a relationship. Sex was a basic human need. Damn him for being in her mind!
The scene changed. The bars vanished. They stood in a classroom.
Edward smiled crookedly. "Ah, this is your natural environment. A place where you are in control. Home away from home."
He strolled leisurely between the desks, his long fingers trailing seductively over the smooth tops.
"What are you? What are you meant to tell me?" Bella demanded, knowing her raised voice was revealing she was anything but in control. "That I need to ease up? All work and no play makes Bella a dull girl?"
Edward looked at her with what appeared to be … sympathy. "Honestly, I live in the spaces in between. I am physically real, though not human any longer. Beings walk among you that your logical minds dismiss even though you see them and know on some level they are different. Your brains make sense of it because the reality is incomprehensible. So many subcultures keep to themselves because we know what humans cannot understand is destroyed." He took a seat at a desk in the back of the room. "But, to answer your question, within my kind, I have a special talent. I am what is called a Dreamcatcher. I can enter dreams of those with special minds. Like yours."
"My mind is special? How?"
"It's open. Curious. Expandable and willing."
Edward stood and closed the distance between them, standing only inches from her. Coldness radiated off of his body. Bella was no longer interested in his words; she reached out to touch him. He was warm, solid, and she could smell him. Was that possible in a dream? Though she couldn't place the scent, it was arousing.
Her hand smoothed over his chest and down his abdomen.
"Create a more suitable setting for your mood, Isabella. Use your testing ground."
The scene changed. They were transported to a forest at twilight.
Edward looked around, intrigued. "Pacific Northwest. I've been here before. Shall we walk?"
He took her hand.
She let him, determined to prove to him she could let go. She was in control.
They walked hand in hand in the tranquil woods, the sun never setting. Edward spoke about the fauna that inhabited the area. He named the trees, picked a wildflower bouquet for her, and guided them to a river. The water ran fast and cold.
He told her she was beautiful.
It seemed like she had listened to his hypnotic voice for hours. In the back of her mind, Bella began to wonder if it was time to wake up…
"No! Don't! Stay!" Edward called out, alarmed.
But it was too late.
Bella awoke gasping. The sun had just begun to creep into her room.
She felt panicked at his sudden loss. And deeply alone.
"No, no," she lamented. Fluffing her pillow, she tried to fall back asleep only to be thwarted by her alarm. Angered, Bella yanked the cord from the wall. Still, sleep would not return. Frustrated, she finally got ready for classes, though she was already too late to catch her first one.
Strange, Bella thought as she walked to campus in a daze, how quickly life could change. Since meeting Edward, it seemed like daytime had become a dream and in sleep, life had become real. She went through the motions of the day, let her father's calls go to voicemail, avoided conversations, and constantly looked over shoulder hoping to glimpse her green-eyed shadow. She returned to her apartment as soon as possible, craving the rush and vivid imagery Edward provided in her dreams.
Though it was only 5:30pm and her work for tomorrow's sessions was not complete, Bella readied herself for bed. Swallowing a glass of wine and another sleep-aid pill, she nested in bed. She had again practiced her approach to the evening, and it took some time to calm her anticipation enough for sleep to come.
Ahead of her was a gazebo. Strings of white lights hanging from its ceiling and reflecting in the nearby pond provided light in the dark, starless night. She approached, smoothing her satin dress of deep emerald … like Edward's eyes.
Inside, she took a seat on the bench that was just big enough for two. Within seconds, she heard his approach. Her heart leapt with anticipation.
"Beautiful," he said.
"I believe this is from my high school prom."
"I meant you." He didn't hesitate in his approach, walking directly up to her. He took her hand and pulled her to a stand. "Music would be nice."
An instrumental began to play. Bella couldn't exactly place a title to the sultry tune.
Edward raised her arm to spin her around before assuming a dance position. Bella complied, placing her other hand on his shoulder. He led. They swayed.
"You look quite dashing this evening."
"I do approve of your selection," he responded. "I haven't worn a tuxedo in a very long time."
"Why is that?"
"I'm very alone, Isabella."
They stopped moving. Her heart went out to him. "You've got me now."
"For the brief time when you dream, yes." He smiled sadly, and she was again captured by his heartbreaking flawlessness.
"Can there be more? You told me you are real in the waking world."
He shook his head. "It would be too dangerous for you. I told you, I'm different." He turned away from her.
Fear struck her heart. "You asked me to trust you and I do."
"In your dreams you can trust me. Here, you are safe."
"But all I want to do is sleep! I need to be with you, to learn about you, to visit places and feel… special," her confession poured from her. "But I can't spend my life asleep. I need more."
Edward turned back to face her. His strong hand cupped her cheek. "You have become my life as well." His other hand traveled up her spine to the back of her head, threading his fingers in her thick hair and guiding her towards him. With a gentleness Bella had never experienced before, he kissed her lips.
She felt a jolt of electricity course through her, but fought with all her might, actually clinging to him with both arms, so she would not wake. A desperation so overpowering enveloped her that she began to weep.
"Shh," he whispered in her ear. "I'm here." He held her close and waited patiently for her to ease in his arms. "Let go of the fear. In dreams, you are free. You've always believed that."
"Free… and safe," she repeated hypnotically, knowing he was listening to her deepest thoughts, accepting them without judgment. She decided to let go.
"Yes," he responded. "Take us there, Bella."
The scene changed. They were in a large bedroom circa 1800s. The four-poster bed loomed large in the center of the room.
Edward smiled, but raised her chin so she could gaze into his clear eyes. "Remember, we can go anywhere."
The scene changed again. They were in a clearing in a spring meadow dotted with small purple, yellow, and white flowers. A hazy sun hung in the blue sky.
"Nothing to fear," he stated reassuringly.
Slowly, one strap at a time, Edward removed her dress. He laid her down on the grass, kissing her face, neck, and shoulders at a languid pace while his hands caressed the rest of her body. The sun warmed her bare skin.
When she could resist no longer, Bella reached for his bowtie, pulling it free before undoing the buttons on his shirt. Almost as quickly as she could dream it, he was naked next to her.
For hours, it seemed, they made love. But it wasn't about physically what went where; no, that awkward burden was removed. It was about sensation. Emotion. The slow steady climb upwards had her mesmerized. The smell and feel of his skin, his taut muscles – more real than anything she had experienced in the waking world.
When she reached climax, everything blinked away and she floated on clouds, yet was surrounded by strength and well-being. Edward was there with her, easing her to the ground before they resumed another climb.
This time when she awoke it wasn't a shock. It was an effortless drifting glide back to her bed. Her room. A gentle gift from her lover.
However, it did nothing to ease the increasing pang of loneliness and loss.
Bella called the University Health Center to cancel her appointments and curled up in bed. Her head pounded from the effects of the sleep-aid and wine and the residual depression from a deprivation of serotonin and norepinephrine. She had dreamed with Edward for over sixteen hours, burning through her much needed neurotransmitters.
The silence of her breathing was abruptly broken by the ringing of her cell phone. Reluctantly, she answered.
"Bells? Are you alright?" Charlie's voice was strained.
"Yeah, Dad. Just been feeling under the weather. Sorry I haven't returned your calls."
"You've been missing classes."
Bella blinked rapidly. "You've been checking up on me?"
"I'm a cop and a dad who hasn't heard from his daughter. What do you think?"
The seriousness of his voice rocked her from her self-pitying stupor.
"You're right. I haven't been myself lately, and I haven't been responsible. I promise to correct that. I'm sorry if I worried you."
"Do you need me to bring over some chicken soup?" His voice softened.
"No. I'm feeling better. I'm thinking I'll make afternoon classes. Thanks, Dad."
"I've got your back, buddy. Remember that." Achieving his goal, he ended the call.
Bella scrubbed her face with both hands. She had made a mess of things. Life was going on around her while she had sunken into a dream addiction!
With the movements of someone suffering from a hangover, Bella trudged through the routine of getting ready and headed off to afternoon classes. In the evening, she brushed off homework, but ordered pizza and ate with the woman she had befriended in the apartment next door. Still, a thrill bubbled up in her gut as the night sky peered into the apartment windows.
As she bid her friend good night, Bella eagerly pictured the places she would make love to Edward: a tropical ocean beach, on a train hurtling toward some foreign land, maybe even a rebellious tryst on her desk. But most of all, she would make him understand they were meant to be together in the physical world. She had to make him believe it was worth the risk.
With these determined thoughts bouncing around her brain, Bella sat in a tank top and boy-shorts on the edge of her bed. She glanced around her dark room wondering what would happen to her – her life – if Edward refused to meet her. For a moment, she briefly felt like she was coming apart at the seams.
With her box of sleep-aid empty (when had she taken the last one?), Bella opened her underwear drawer and pulled out what remained of a bottle of wine. She drank the rest straight from the bottle.
She told herself her alarm had already been set.
This time, Edward was waiting for her…
The waves crashed, leaving a foamy froth on the white sand of the sunny beach. Edward was running toward her. The hem of his white cotton button-down shirt flapped in the breeze around his khaki pants that were rolled up to his muscular calves. His bare feet left no imprints in the sand.
He collided into her, scooping her up and spinning her around. His joy was palpable. "I've missed you. And again, you have picked a perfect setting for our reunion," he raved.
"The real world pales in comparison to the emotion and richness of my dreams. I've missed you with a terrible ache."
Edward frowned. "I know." He set her down and pulled her close. "This is torture for us both. The best and worst of both worlds. But we are here now. Let's not waste precious time. Besides, I've always wanted to make love on a train."
Quickly setting aside her serious agenda for the vibrant, emotion-fueled sex she knew they would have, Bella created the scene. In the lavishly decorated sleeper car, the clickety-clack of the wheels on the track kept pace with the motions of their bodies…
When again they were walking hand in hand on the beach, Bella braved the topic of meeting again.
"Edward, I have to choose. I don't want to, but I see no other way." If he was truly in her mind, he knew what she meant.
"You are concerned for the people in your life. They burden you with their worries."
She was stunned by his response. "They are not a burden. They care about me."
"If they cared they would let you seek happiness, not be selfish."
"I guess the awake me has not appeared very happy. With you, I feel alive. Reality doesn't feel as good anymore," she admitted sadly.
"I cannot lose you, Bella."
His hand gripped hers tighter, and, for a moment, he seemed to be the one who was losing control. She had never seen him appear flustered before.
She jumped at the opportunity at his perceived moment of weakness. "Then agree to meet me."
He pulled her to a stop and kissed her passionately. She melted into him. Visions of his tightly-muscled body undulating over her, filling her with unearthly bliss…
He kissed his way across her jaw line and up to her ear before whispering breathlessly, "Time to wake up, Bella."
The sound of her alarm filled the blackness before she opened her eyes.
As was her custom, she snagged her dream journal. But, instead of a blank page ready to be filled with details, scrawled in elegant handwriting, she found the words: "Meet me at the real gazebo tonight on this All Hallows Eve before the last stroke of midnight." On her bedside table lay a fresh-picked wildflower from the rainforest they had walked just a few days ago. His distinct scent still hung in the air.
His effort to convince her didn't go unnoticed. "He is real."
Bella faced the day with enthusiasm. Could she really have the man in her dreams? It was too perfect and logically unexplainable at the same time. But once they met, he would make it all clear. She would accept him without fear just as he had taught her to dream without fear. Neither of them would be lonely any longer.
Dutifully, she attended classes, worked on her cases, called her father and even ate in the cafeteria with her colleagues. Yet, she still kept her dream lover a secret. Edward was right; they wouldn't understand.
As the sun set, she filled the car with gas, showered, and chose her clothes carefully. Checking her Smartphone, she Googled the address to the party hall where her prom had been held and entered it into her navigation app. Too excited to attempt sleep, Bella sat at her desk and watched the hours slowly tick away.
The headlights of her car lit up the dark façade of the building located at a secluded end of a long driveway. In the empty parking lot, Bella chose a spot closest the walk that led along the back of the building to the gazebo.
She smiled widely as she rounded the corner finding the gazebo lit with many strands of sparkling white lights. He was already there.
"Edward?" Bella whispered into the night. Her eyes scanned the area, including the murky edges of the forest that surrounded the hall.
"I'm here."
The sound of his voice – that familiar, entrancing velvet voice – drew her eyes in the direction of the gazebo. There he stood in its center, materializing out of the blackness.
She moved toward him, her excitement urging her to run.
"Remember," he spoke firmly as he watched her approach, "this is not a dream."
It wasn't, she thought impatiently. It was finally time for her dreams to come true.
Edward hadn't moved an inch as she approached and climbed the stairs. He stood unnaturally still and Bella hesitated.
"I cannot be without you," he said. His voice echoed with sorrowful confession.
"I know you are different. I can accept you. I'm just afraid you'll disappear," Bella pleaded.
"Is this truly what you want? You are willing to be with me forever?"
"Yes. To never be alone. Isn't that what you want as well?"
"It is." He smiled and opened his arms.
Bella rushed to him, into his embrace.
His body was hard. Ice cold.
She stumbled back, startled. Hadn't he been so warm in her dreams?
Her wide eyes met his –
They were as shockingly red as fresh blood.
She fought her instinct to scream, to run away. She couldn't – she had promised to accept him! "You are different than in my dreams." Her voice shook with trepidation.
"I know. In your dreams, your brain created what it understood. What made sense. Do you wish to flee?"
"No." She felt embarrassed, ashamed she had feared him. "Kiss me."
He embraced her, moving quicker than any human could. His strong, wintry arms squeezing her tighter and tighter, while his lips urgently pressed against hers. She swam in his scent, ignoring the coldness of his kiss. When his lips parted hers, she tasted the sweetness on his tongue and let the world fly away. Reality became the dream.
He kissed her with the passion she had known in her dreams. And when the pain came, she accepted it as willingly as she had the pleasure.
"It's done. You are a brave girl." His arms gathered her in. "We are together for all of eternity. You have joined me in immorality. No more pain or sorrow, Bella. We will only bring each other pleasure."
Bella sucked in a breath…but didn't feel the accompanying expansion of her lungs. Edward's red eyes glowed triumphantly as if he were a spider gazing at a fly in its web. Alarm gripped her. Something was terribly wrong –
Bella closed her eyes. Her worlds had been flipped for days; lines had blurred between what was real and what wasn't. She didn't know what to think or what to do to find herself in control of her innate fear.
She pictured the sunny beach.
But the scene did not change. The woods were engulfing them, dark and foreboding.
Bella panicked. "Tell me to wake up! Tell me, Edward!"
"I can't, Bella. You see, you are no longer in control. This is my dream."
Bella's eyes widened. She saw him differently, heard his words in a different light. There was logic to her thoughts, a moment of clarity where her mind understood and actually realized the double meaning behind his warnings. Yes, the clues had been there, she had just refused to understand.
"You said I was only safe in my dreams. You radiated cold yet in dreams had felt warm to my touch. On the beach – you didn't leave foot prints in the sand. And when you whispered in my ear, I never felt your breath." All the contradictions he presented, her brain had rationalized, dismissed, or accepted because it saw what it understood. What made sense.
"You have a brilliant mind, Bella. Tell me, where are we now? I know you have figured it out. Say it. Out loud."
Bella's hands flew to her neck, remembering the exquisite pain. The terror of understanding wrenched in her gut. With trembling lips, she answered him, "I'm in your dream now."
He didn't need to confirm her statement. Despite his honesty, his warnings and the clues her mind had given her to keep her from this fate, she hadn't see the truth. It was beyond what her educated, scientific brain could conceive. And beyond what her lonely heart didn't want to believe. He was a predator, stalking her in her own dreams. He was just as he had claimed: a Dreamcatcher. First, he had captured her mind. Then her heart.
Did he own her soul as well?
Bella collapsed in a heap on the hard, dark ground and then recoiled – her hands had come into contact with something wet and slick. Before her, shrouded in shadows, was a woman lying on the forest floor. Her arms and legs cast in odd positions, her hair covering her face. Blood oozed from a gash in her neck. Bella knew at once the woman was dead. If her heart was beating, the blood would be rushing from the wound.
Bella raised her hands to her face. They were covered in blood.
Edward knelt before her, his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you understand? We are free in dreams, just as you hypothesized. With my gift, I can take you anywhere. I can fulfill all your wishes and fantasies. You wanted to be together. Now, you and I exist always together in my mind. Day and night. No more will you be alone and neither will I. Only your mortal body hindered our final union."
That was her bloody body!
Madness and grief swallowed her whole as she fully awoke within a nightmare she had willingly invited into her life, and now into her father's. He would obsess over the last image of his daughter, a police file photo of her brutally murdered body in the woods, joining her in assured insanity as he undoubtedly would obsessively hunt a killer she knew he'd never find in the spaces in-between.
Happy Halloween –
Forever.
A/N: Cue Vincent Price's manic laughter! So excited to write something chilling – or at least I hope it was. Edward is such a tempting predator, no matter what, it's hard not to fall for him!
Thank you for reading and thank you to pre-readers Gasaway Alley and Sherry Dean Cullen, and beta, RowanMoon (she's also one rockin' storyteller! Check out her stuff on ffn and Twilighted.)
Comments welcome -