I’ve always been interested in my dreams. I saw them as a gateway to another world or… maybe foreseeing the future. I got intrigued by them when I was little and discovered that I sleep walked. It was as if I was puppet and my dreams were controlling me. My parents saw me as just a thing to laugh at in the middle of the night and I thought so as well. I made jokes about it well into my late twenties. Until I met it. A Dream Walker is was it called itself. A being that was pure make-belief. I knew this. It was all fake, a twisted part of my dreams. It appeared in my sleep one night. Actually, it was pretty recent. It was very reassuring to me, like any other person. Like someone I could trust — someone always there for me. I started to encounter him shortly after a rough day at work. My buddy Bryce and I were discussing the upcoming reports we had to turn in. Everything was going right on schedule until another co-worker stole our thunder. We refer to him as MG. He was this rich hot shot who always had a cocky attitude. We were close to finishing our reports when he stole all our research and claimed it as his own. Thus him stealing my promotion and me staying where I am now. I was furious but there was nothing I could to do. I had no proof, no evidence, nothing. I wish he’d just disappear, get fired, anything like that. Anyways, to say the least this is when the dreams started coming. The Dream Walker started coming.
I wake up with darkness outside my window and a cold sweat running down my face. My heart is slamming against my chest as it heaves up and down. I glance around. I stare out my stained window beside my bed and realize I’ve woken from another encounter with the… the ‘Dream Walker.’ I hate that thing. It wanted me to… to steal something. I can’t even remember what.
I take my hands and rub them across my forehead and cheeks, shaking away that strange feeling of being with it. I look out my window once more and my eyes widen. No. No. I can’t be dreaming again. Where did the window go? Where did my bed
go? I find myself lying atop a mound of grass in an open field. It smells the same as my room (which isn’t exactly a great thing). Everything has changed. I roll off of the earth mound and onto the ground which is made up of broken white tiles (my floor is made of wood). I begin to take small, staggering steps forward. I look down and find my feet covered in mud — I see footprints. No… animal prints. Some hoofed animal made these. Not again… I walk to where my hallway would be, which is now a five-foot high wall of bushes. It opens up into the kitchen and I examine the area cautiously. My furniture is replaced with strange, creepy sculptures and I see most of it is replaced by a tree or shrub. Strange — stranger than usual.
I want to move. I want to look away but if I did more would change and I don’t want that. I want to wake up and leave this nightmare. I start to breathe heavy with fear. I felt hot until a breeze hit me. It suddenly felt cool and reassuring, my clothes gently swinging from side to side. I then hear it – the clicking of hooves slowly comes from behind me. The Dream Walker was near, I felt it on the back my neck, the feeling of something watching… something evil. I feel its hand slowly crawl and rise up my back and onto my shoulders. It’s long knife-like nails come over and graze my shirt. “Miss me?” Its voice sneered, so mysterious but familiar. “ I missed you. We have so much to do.” What does it mean, so much to do? We’re in my dream – a land of change. Why would I want to let it give me orders?
“Come with me. We need to do something.” He pauses. “A little… test.” “No,” I murmur, “everything you do is wrong.” I tried to sound indignant. I tried to sound brave, like I know what I’m talking about. Instead my throat stands dry and hoarse, like I’m sick and in pain. “It’s not right. Why would I follow you?” “Because all you do is go in circles,” the Dream Walker replies. “I’m the only thing you have in this place. Come here.” Its voice, evil yet persuasive… it has an insidious way of making me listen to it. It signals me to follow, so I do. As I walk with it for what feels like an hour, we stop. My feet are aching at this point but I didn’t dare complain. Where we stop is very different compared to the rest of my dream. It’s like a galaxy almost… stares, brights lights floating above my head… “Pick up that rock to your side,” it gestures at the ground where a rock grew like an oak sapling. I stare at it but don’t do anything, my hands itching like spiders are crawling underneath the skin of my fingertips. “Once you do that, walk towards the void,” it finishes, pointing into the abyss. Darkness. So much darkness. I’m slightly curious to see what’s beyond this. Maybe the way to the real world… the way to waking up. But why would the Dream Walker do that? Why would it do that to me? I pause, and bend down to pluck the rock out of the ground and slowly walk forward. The hair on my skin is standing straight up in the air. Is it the cold or something else? I look down and see nothing but emptiness. I lift my foot to walk forward but stop. I reach my hand out and realize I physically can’t move any further. It’s as if the void is walled off. “How interesting you can’t go that far… hmm,” it breathes. “Why is that so interesting?” I glance back but can’t see it in the shadows.
“Nevermind…” it says this with a grin. “Let’s stop here and continue this tomorrow. We made progress today, Dylan.” It takes the rock out of my hand. It begins to walk away. “Turn around,” it says, raising a hand to tell me to turn towards the void. I follow its request and turn, looking into the abyss. Then I feel a hard thud on the back of my head. I wake up with the bright light shining into my room. My blue eyes squeeze shut at the sunrise and I quickly rub my face. “What the hell kind of dream was that?”
I feel a sting in my spine from the way I slept. I look around the wasteland (my room). Clothes everywhere, drawers open, and the window open? I don’t remember opening that. But maybe I woke up last night and did. Maybe it got too cold. I look at the clock. 7:43. I better get up for work, or else I’ll have hell rain down on me from my boss. So I get up, slip on my shoes and head to the kitchen. As I enter, I noticed something weird. Hoofprints on the carpet. Stained. Muddy. “Maybe it was the Dream Walker,” I say to myself, laughing, grabbing a handful of the brown strands of hair on my head and straightening it.
I make some coffee, get dressed, brush my teeth, and head to the front door where I see something. My lamp is smashed. Maybe I got hammered with Bryce last night. Next time we should party at hisplace and break his stuff instead.
I’ve been telling Bryce about my recent dreams lately. I ask him if we were partying or had at least hung out last night. That would explain the furniture being broken, arranged in weird orders, or even the mud markings on my carpet. Did we steal a goat last night? Maybe a chicken at one point? He always says no, that he was doing more work to get up on MG and get himself a promotion. I’m never very interested in that part since I’m still trying to recover from my situation.
Although, every time I bring up the Dream Walker he stops whatever he was saying and asks about it. He always asks questions like what is it? What does it do? Do you agree with it? Mostly I use this as a point to grab his attention and focus our conversation on me. Yet I keep thinking to myself… what if the Dream Walker is real?
The next few days I’ve been experiencing very odd dreams. Each crazier than the last but each one including the Dream Walker. He would have me do more crazy tasks, like climb up a tree, jump down from it, make a meal (I made some strange-smelling macaroni and cheese). Then in the morning new things would be out of place. One day my refrigerator was open and food sprawled all over the kitchen table. Another I woke up with grass tucked between my toes. Am I sleepwalking? There’s no other explanation. I just want these dreams… no, nightmares, to end. I’m tired of them. Of it.
Today was an exhausting day. I had so many papers to do and my butt aches from sitting in the same old squeaky rolly chair every day. I asked what Bryce was doing for tonight. Maybe he wanted to get a drink. His response, of course, was no. He said, “I found the best thing to put MG in his place, man!” I swear, Bryce is obsessed with MG. He acts like he’s now his new best friend or enemy or something. I’m tired and upset. I think as I’m driving home, maybe I’ll just watch some Big Bang Theory and go to bed… “Maybe the Dream Watcher will keep me company,” I say aloud with a smirk, laughing mindlessly at the thought.
I rest into my pillow, having the sheets engulf me in warmth and comfort. I then close my eyes and try to ignore work’s daily issues. A flash of chill hits me. I open my eyes to see myself on a snowy plateau. Mountains surrounding me with a beautiful blue sky and clouds like marshmallows.
I get up and walk for a while in a random direction before stopping to realize…. Nothing is changing. No grassy fields, tiles of wood, no dense forests. It’s just me. I am suddenly very aware the Dream Watcher is nowhere to be seen, until I hear a repetitive thudding sound come from somewhere in the plateau. I follow the noise, hoping to find the cause of the noise that surrounds the mountains and me.
On my walk I still feel a chill and nothing but frozen jitters. As I walk on, the thumping seems to get closer. I squint my eyes and see it in the distance. The void. The black mysterious emptiness where I could not venture forward. I peer into it, seeing a silhouette in the distance right before the void starts. Something is coming towards me at walking pace. I wait as the figure becomes more visible. It was the Dream Watcher after all. It has one arm cradling a large animal or some sort of bundle of fur. I can’t tell yet, from the heavily distorted spikes sticking from it and the thin rope dangling from beneath. The Dream Walker’s other arm, however, is behind its back, concealing something. It steps farther away from the void and it looks at me with a crazy smile. I see something in its eyes that frightens me. A perverse, excited shrill reaching from its dark pupils. “This will be our last dream together Dylan,” it says when it reaches me from the hilly sides of the mountain, breathing hard. “I have one last thing for you to do.” It goes on to reveal a hammer in its hidden hand. A steel hammer with a rusted blunt end. He then lifts it to me and says, “Kill this animal. I’m starving for a meal.” “What?” I suck in a tight breath, the cold air freezing the insides of my throat. “Kill it? What’s the point? That’s insane!” “If you kill, it I will leave your mind and you will never see me again. I will take the animal and feast on it.”
The blood in my body rushes to my ears and fingertips. I stop breathing for a full minute as the dream stops moving and I stare directly into the creature’s fiery eyes. “Just kill the animal with this hammer,” it repeats, somewhat softer this time, as if a whisper. It silently places the hammer in my hands and I deftly seem to accept. My hand is outstretched. I feel with biting wood. My fingers close. “But… but why, what has it done?” I say, looking at the hammer in fear. It answers, “This animal is no good to the world. It’s a vermin to the land. A parasite slowly sucking the life out of you and everyone else. It has no purpose in life. Kill it, and I will leave you forever.” Once more I pause and shiver. I’m not cold anymore — I’ve never felt such heat in a cold place. It wants me to do it. Killing the animal would make it… happy. Yes, it was joyful. Excited. Anxious. “I-I can’t,” I murmur. “I mean, h-how do I know it’s a vermin? Why can’t we just—”
“YOU WILL KILL IT OR I WILL TORMENT YOU SO THAT YOU MAY NEVER AWAKEN AND SEE DAYLIGHT AGAIN!!!”
My arms immediately raise to cover my face and I fly back as if the creature had hit me. I look up for a painful moment and see it’s eyes glowing red with hatred. It doesn’t move or say anything — it stares at me with slivered eyes of evil. “I’m… I’m sorry,” I stammer, my hands shaking. “I can’t take this anymore!” The Dream Walker sets the animal down on the ground. The animal has the body of a deer but a distorted face… as if someone took their thumb and smudged it. I feel like… like I know what it is. It reminds me of something. I refuse to think about it though. I just want to end this eternal hell in my mind. I slowly lift the hammer, holding the animal’s head still. I pause mid air and stare into it.
With a swift swing I hit the center of its temple. Crack. It drops dead. I watch the blood spray from the wound, the face more distorted from the blow.
The skin begins to turn bruised and ugly, a squishy egg that was cracked and red yolk leaking from the wound. Blood, like a sporous rainfall, starts to pour from its head. I feel my heart drop like a weight, my hands shaking even harder than before. I cannot breathe. I may vomit… “Good, Dylan, Good…” it purrs like a toxic gas leak. “Now hide it.” I drag my heavy head and sunken eyes to look over my left and see a shovel wedged in the snow. I let go of the hammer, listening to it clank against the snowy grass. I slowly pick myself off the ground like I am dead. I pick it up, like a twisted Arthur and sword, before looking back to the animal. God, I can’t even look at it. The hot blood seeps into the ground and melts the snow into a slushy, muddy mess. Long blades of grass pop out of the slush, stained red. So many red stains. I am about to drive my shovel into the ground when I am suddenly stopped. “No,” the creature jerks me away from the ground, “hide the body in this… chest.” As if summoned by his words, a chest appears beside the Dream Walker’s leg.
“Why?” I croak. “does it not deserve a proper burial?”
“DO WHAT I SAY!!”
My face feels like it’s shriveled up, but I hurry over to the creature. I shut my eyes, take a deep, anxious breath and pick up the body. My eyes shoot open when I realize how heavy it really is. Despite myself I refuse to look it. I hastily put the body into the chest, letting it fall in with a clambering noise, and begin to reluctantly squish the limbs inside so it would fit. I start to dig.
As I stick the flat yet faintly curved piece of wood and metal into the cold ground, I feel my eyes become irritated. They sting. They sting so bad as my insides heave and I feel wet tears slide out of my eyes. I silently sob as I could not get the feeling that I killed an innocent creature. An innocent… something. I have killed an innocent something, since I don’t believe it was just an animal. When the hole is deep enough, I push the chest into the hole and immediately cover it up. “Fantastic, Dylan. You did it.” The Dream Walker starts to laugh. At first I think it’s just insane. It’s all insane. But I’ve never heard anything laugh this hard. Nothing has ever laughed out of so much happiness and amusement. “Did what?” I cough, my throat swollen and sticky from the tears, wiping them away. “You killed him for me!!” It cackles, walking towards me. Him.
Him. Why did it say him?
“KILLED WHO!?” I screech, stumbling forward and tugging on its leg like a beggar.
“You killed MG for me!!” The Dream Walker giggles, looking down at me like a spoiled child. “What?”
My mouth draws open, my heart dropping at the sound of the words. You killed MG for me. You killed MG for me. You killed MG for me. “Now you can go,” it finally says, snatching it’s foot from my grasp and whirling it straight between my eyes.
I wake up screaming. My heart is beating too fast.
I rake my head back and forth from my room to the window all the way to the bedroom door. A dream. Oh my God, it was a dream. I think I can relax until I notice something. The window is open and snow is melting on my wooden floors. It doesn’t snow in March. Then I see my feet: brown and covered in mud. I start to sweat, beads falling from my temples and forehead. Then I see footprints leading from my bed to the hallway. I followed the trail. “This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening,” I repeat over and over again, my voice catching in my throat as I fear of more tears. I reach the bottom of the stairs, I stumble into the kitchen and out the back door. I get into the back yard where the trail abruptly stops. I fall on my knees and start to cry as I see a pile of fresh dirt with a shovel and hammer lying crooked beside it. Drying blood is everywhere. I take my twitching fingers and scratch them across my face, unbelieving yet still seeing. I take my hands away and can’t yet compute the blood picked up from my cheeks and chin and eyebrows. The blood is everywhere. Everywhere. I rush inside and turn on the television, my hands almost too shaky to hit the buttons on the remote. The first channel that appears is the news. A missing person report. God, they already know. “Today, on Channel 3 News, police have discovered the apartment of Mitchelle GM. “The appartment was found broken open and the resident missing. Witnesses say a tall Caucasian Male in his early thirties or late twenties was seen around the area and driving around at an early time in the morning.
“Police believe the victim was kidnapped by this man. Authorities are led to believe his co-worker Dylan Heinstein is responsible. “Police gained this information from a fellow co-worker claiming to have talked to Dylan where he said ‘I found the best thing to put MG in his place.’ “We have information that police are on route to the suspect’s home.” I can’t. I can’t— Was this really true? Could this still be a dream? I start to pinch and slap myself. I slam my foot against the wall and punch the door until splinters are imbedded into my hands. It’s supposed to hurt but I don’t feel it. I’m not dreaming, though. I feel nothing. I feel nothing yet I’m still awake and this is still happening. I’m not waking up. I’m already awake and this nightmare is so real. I sprint to the backyard, to the mound of dirt, where I quickly begin to dig. I dig and dig until I feel a thud with the shovel. I bend down and brush the dirt off of the object lying beneath. It is the chest. I heave it out of the hole with all the energy I have left and stare with horror. I can’t stop weeping. What have I done? Through my tears I find a note stapled into the wooden chest. It’s neatly folded, despite the dirt stains, and with the initials DW. I unfold it and read it, my heart gone. The note says,
Dear Dylan,
Has anyone told you how cute you look asleep? Let alone sleep walking. It’s like you’re in a Trance. I knew you would follow my orders blindly in your state of deep-sleep. Well, you better hurry before the cops arrive! Or else this time you might be the one to die. You are such a loud sleep-talker, be a little quieter next time. I leave you with a finally goodbye. And, always remember:
Never Trust a Dream Walker
Sincerely, D W
The note drops from my hand but I don’t even notice. No. He’s not in the chest. He’s not in the chest. He was never in the chest. I take two hands and pry the soiled top away from the bottom. My eyes rest on the sullen shape inside…
