Chapter 46: Nightmares

"Most people wouldn't call that a nightmare at all,"

Mornings at the rectory were blissfully quiet compared to those at the circus. Before Brin, Kurt had been the circus' sole early morning riser. Now he shared his mornings with her and though he didn't mind it, he liked the rectory even better. His window faced east and so he woke with the sun most mornings, the room filled with orange light. Father Dietrich was a deep sleeper and on all days but Sunday, usually came down a few hours after Kurt had been up. He was something of a night owl and though Kurt himself was fairly nocturnal, he usually fell asleep to the sound of Father Dietrich in his study, the room across from his on the third floor.

The rectory had an old deep claw footed tub. It was the classic European tub; with a handheld sprayer that hung on a hook like a telephone. It was deep enough that Kurt could put his whole body including his head underwater if he wanted. Kurt was used to fairly limited bathing facilities so that even the plain cement shower building in Brighton had seemed like an incomparable luxury. He could only imagine the kind of jealousy he was engendering from Brin, getting a whole summer in a place with a bathtub.

It was a typical morning. Father Dietrich wasn't up yet; the house was utterly silent. Kurt filled the bath and got in. He'd only been soaking for a minute or two when he noticed that the water was turning blue. At first Kurt thought it was his reflection, but a second glance made it obvious that it wasn't, that the water was turning opaque. He wasn't sure what was doing it actually, but it was the same shade of blue he was. To test his theory Kurt used a washcloth and rubbed the skin on his arm, more blue came off making a stain on the once white cloth. It was rubbing off of him. Somehow, he was shedding. It was morbid curiosity that made Kurt try rubbing even harder and with soap this time. To his amazement, he could see what looked like pink flesh under the blue fur that had covered his body since he was born.

He turned his attention to his hand and started working on it. It was the hand with a cast on it and Kurt had forgotten to protect it with a plastic bag. Even though the doctor had said this new kind of cast could get wet, he had suggested covering it anyway. Unexpectedly, the cast peeled away though the minute Kurt put water on it, practically dissolving the moment the water touched it. He now had his entire right hand exposed for the first time in weeks. With the same curious drive as before, he set to work on it with the soap and the washcloth. As he expected, bits of blueness started to fade away. Then he felt something break loose and he was able to peel away a bit of blue furred skin from one of his fingers. Kurt's mouth opened in amazement. The bit that had fallen off revealed perfect normal pink skin underneath.

There was a loose edge now and he grabbed it, peeling off larger and larger bits. They fell into the water, floating on top of it like tiny icebergs. When Kurt had pulled enough bits off he held out his hand in astonishment. One of his fingers was its usual thick blue self but he had revealed the other to be two slender pink digits that had been hidden beneath his fur. All this time and he was perfectly normal.

Kurt could feel himself starting to shake. How could this be? Why hadn't anything like this happened before? Had he honestly spent his entire life hiding when he could have been normal? That all he had to do was take a bath and he could have avoided a lifetime of ridicule and prejudice.

He looked at his hand again, at the strange pink digits peeking out from what he knew to be him. This was wrong. This wasn't him inside and there was also the horrific realization that the bits of blue skin and fur floating around the tub were off for good. He could finish what he started, but he could never be himself ever again.

Kurt tried to scream but he couldn't, he couldn't seem to inhale enough air to get any volume; he cries came out strangled and nearly silent. After several minutes of struggling he took a deep breath and cried out at the top of his lungs.

Father Dietrich was still half asleep but he was able to follow the cries that had woken him to Kurt's room on the floor above. He staggered up the stairs and turned on the light.

"Kurt! What's wrong?" He asked.

Kurt silenced himself mid-scream and looked around in confusion. He held his hands out and stared at them. "It was just a dream." He said.

"What?" Father Dietrich asked. "What was a dream?"

"I had a nightmare." Kurt said breathlessly. "I had a dream that I… That I wasn't me inside."

Father Dietrich sat on the edge of Kurt's bed. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"It was like I could peel myself away and see who I really was underneath." Kurt said, the details of the nightmare already fading from his mind.

"And who were you that it made you start screaming?" Father Dietrich asked.

Kurt shook his head in confusion. "I wasn't anyone," he said. "I was normal. I looked just like everyone else."

Father Dietrich looked quizzical. "Most people wouldn't call that a nightmare at all," he said.

"I guess. But it scared me anyway." Kurt rubbed his eyes. "But I'm okay now" he said.

"Are you sure?" Father Dietrich asked, resting his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt nodded his head. "Yeah. I'll be fine," he said.

Father Dietrich gave his shoulder a last squeeze and stood up. He went to the door. "Come get me if you need anything" he said.

"I will," Kurt said.

Father Dietrich shut out the light and Kurt listened to his footsteps as they retreated downstairs. He lay back in bed staring at the ceiling. There were only a few feelings and images remaining from the dream that had been so vivid in his mind only moments ago. What a strange dream it had been. And like Father Dietrich, he too wondered why it had been frightening to look like everyone else.

Author's note: When I started this project, I wanted to have a story about the kind of dreams Kurt had. At first I wanted him to have dreams that looked like 1940's horror movies with people coming after him with torches and pitchforks in grainy black and white. It was originally supposed to be funny. However, that changed when one of my Nightcrawler costume makeup experiments failed. I put too much sealant in and the blue makeup formed a kind of wrinkled skin that I could peel off. I looked in the mirror as it was happening and thought to myself if this isn't Nightcrawler's biggest nightmare, I don't know what is.