The Dreaming - Entire Story

The Dreaming - Prologue


Kate fiddled around with her hair tie for quite some time before pulling it free and letting her long brown hair fall past her shoulders. She casually pulled the sheets over her body and rested her head onto her warm woollen pillow. Without opening her eyes she reached for the light switch that controlled the lamp that shot brightly beside her bed. Knowing the exact position of the switch she did not falter as her thumb ran across it, and the room turned black.
“Night hunny,” her father called from the next room.
“Night Dad,” she said.
She opened her eyes slightly and looked at the clock on the wall opposite her bed, 11:45pm.
She felt a searing cramp in her legs as she stretched them to their full extent, but the cramp felt relieving.
It had been a long day.
Memories of the day ran past her head in infrequent intervals as she rested, soon she would be asleep and when she woke the next morning, these memories would be less clear. She always took time to think about what she had done that day while it was still fresh in her mind.
As she slowly drifted into a greater state of relaxation the cramp in her leg began to fade.
You never remember the few moments before you fall asleep. How long did you take to go to sleep? It is an unanswerable question. You cannot look at the clock the precise moment before you drift off and remember it the next morning.
The only way to do this was to be in Kate’s situation.
Just as she was about to fall asleep, she heard a large bang.
She shot up, her eyes widened.
Immediately, “Dad.”
Her Dad leaned his head in her doorway, placing his index finger over his lip and his hand signalling to stay there.
As he swung out of site Kate saw that he had a large bat in his hand, ready to attack.
She looked at the clock, 12:02am.
Kate heard her father’s footsteps creep down the stairs.
What was going on?
She disobeyed her father’s orders and got out of bed, and began towards the doorway to her room.
Another Bang.
A scream.
Her father’s voice.
She bolted out of her room, and just as scared as she was every night, she headed towards the stairs.
As she ran, she thought, so confused.
“How could this happen?”
“I didn’t even dream.”




Chapter 1

“A dream must never be mistaken for reality but an obscure representation of the mind”

Laws of the Dream, Official Handbook


A Dream.
What is a dream?
How can something so complex, something we cannot truly grasp be defined in just a single sentence?
Some argue that dreaming gives a more inner access to one’s spirit and therefore one is more capable of getting questions answered from their inner consciousness and given proper awareness.
Does a dream hold meaning, significance?
During a typical lifespan a human spends about six years dreaming, which is about 2 hours each night.
Do we dream because we choose to?
Lucid dreaming occurs during REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep when the person becomes conscious and aware they are dreaming within the dream. This sometimes enables one to have direct control over the content of their dream.
Some believe that practising reality testing in waking life may lead to one being able to apply it during a dream. Reflections of yourself are usually blurred in dreams. In a dream time often does not flow like real time.
Do we dream to wash away our thoughts and start afresh each day?
Is a dream a representation of personal conception?
It is easier to recall dreams when we wake up directly from them.
If one were to dream of being attacked by friends would this be an expression of fear of friendship?
How much control do we have over our dreams?
This restlessly unsettling dialogue swirled through Kate’s mind with more questions than answers and she only awoke from her dream when she heard her father’s voice.
“Kate.”
She lifted her head out of her text books and gazed at her father impatiently. He had his right hand deep in the fridge, searching for the coldest beer.
“Do you ever sleep?” he inquired sarcastically.
“I’m reading,” she replied, turning back to her books.
Kate was a young girl of about 17 years of age. She had long brown hair and deep eyes that told a story whenever you looked into them. She was quite slim and wore an old brown jacket that covered her knees as she studied her textbooks. Her father was a short man with an outward curved stomach. He was ageing quickly and his presence felt humble and warming. He was a caring man, and one with many simple motives in life.
Her father turned his attention to his drink for a moment, opened it and walked over to the round wooden table Kate had her books stretched over before casually taking a seat opposite his daughter.
“What are you studying for?”
“Nothing,” Kate said, still focused on the books. “Just out of interest.”
Her father took a sip of his beer and placed it on the table, whilst picking up one of the textbooks. He stared at the cover, flicked through as if to be speed reading every section before throwing it on the table.
“Your mother was always the smart one,” he said. “But why are you interested in dreams?”
Kate looked up at him and stared for quite sometime.
“Ah,” her father said. “Come on, I always know when your hiding something.”
“It’s….it’s…nothing,” Kate stuttered. “It’s just a fascinating topic.”
Her father was far from convinced.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve just been having weird dreams lately,” she said.
“About?” her father insisted.
“Mum,” she replied.
Her father nodded, understandingly.
“I’m sure it’s all perfectly normal,” her father said. “I dream about her sometimes to.”
Kate closed the textbook she was reading and stared into space.
“Do you ever dream about mum’s death?” she asked.
Her father delayed a sip of beer and sat up straighter in his chair.
“Kate,” he said, in his classic reassuring voice. “We don’t know how she died and we’ll never know.”
“I know,” Kate said, rasing her voice. “But I see her dying ever night Dad.”
Stephen rested his head in his hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this when it first happened?” he asked.
“I hoped they’d go away,” Kate said. “But it’s happening every night.”
Her father rose and headed towards the phone.
“Maybe you should go back to the psychologist you had a few months ago dear,” he said, trickling his fingers through the notebook.
“No,” Kate cried. “I’ll be alright Dad.”
“I can’t have my daughter enduring terrible dreams like this every night,” he said.
“Can I just talk to you about it instead?” she insisted.
Her father understood and, as if following direct orders, went back to his seat.
“Your mother was a beautiful woman,” Stephen said. “I loved her and so did you.”
“I know Dad,” Kate replied. “But in my dreams I don’t love her.”
Her father looked rather puzzled.
“Dreams are just an absurd play out of events in our mind,” he said. “There not to be taken seriously dear.”
Kate nodded, staring at the wooden table.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Stephen inquired, concerned for his daughters sanity.
She had been very unstable since her mother’s death and hadn’t been to school for months. He wished they could find a decent psychologist to help her, but their town was far to isolated from the rest of civilization. It was almost as if their small town was stripped from humanity and well behind in technology. The only reason that kept him living in this way was that he grew up in this town and he loved the ambience of the people and the environment. Although, ever since the death of his wife, the town had become nothing more than a darkening presence. If they had an adequate police service than perhaps he could find out what happened to his wife. She had been missing for three months and the empirical evidence suggested that she was dead. What was worse than the death of his wife was that he knew every single person living in Opusberg and could not imagine one of them committing such a terrible crime. The obvious answer, and the only answer, was that one of them did it and he has never looked upon this town as he used to in the last three months. Everyone was a suspect, excluding him and his daughter and a few close friends. He spent the nights lying in bed, unable to sleep. He could almost hear her voice calling him in the blackness of his room. At times she would appear by his bed, her hair, long and brown. She would smile at him and when he called her she would disappear. Sometimes he would roll over and place his arm around her and kiss her gently on the cheek but the night air would bring a cold taste to his lips. Julie’s disappearance was haunting him and his daughter so much he felt that it was time to leave their home and move to the city. Kate would never approve of a decision like that. The only friends she had in the entire world lived here. Whatever was to happen had to happen soon. The truth could not be hidden, they would never be happy living this way.
Stephen had done all the considering he felt he could handle for one night. Another question was floating through his mind.
Whilst Stephen was thinking Kate could almost feel a presence behind her.
She turned her stare from the wooden table to the door where a man stood. He wore a black coat. His face was old and wrinkled. Kate wasn’t scared for it seemed this man was meant to be here. He looked so familiar. He was smiling, an evil smile. His eyes were glowing as red as a flame.
“Don’t do it Kate,” he said, softly, almost whispering his words.
Kate turned and faced her father, but her father did not appear to care for the unusual man standing in their doorway and continued with the conversation.
“In your dreams,” Stephen started. “How does Mum die?”
Kate was silent for a long time.
She stared at the cool night breeze swiftly moving through the open window of their cottage.
She sat there for what seemed like minutes before she answered, working up the courage to look her father in the eye.
“I try to stop her in every dream but she somehow just dies every time.”




Chapter 2

“The two worlds of the dream and the reality cannot connect. If a portal was opened in reality for a dream to enter, time would have to reset itself.”

Laws of the Dream, Official Handbook


Kate smiled as her mother ran her soft fingers through her hair. She cherished the short moments they had together. She was lying on the couch with her head resting on her mothers lap. The warm fire burned beside them with the soft clicking of its flames as they disintegrated into smoke. She was about to drift off when the phone rung. Her mother sprung up immediately, letting Kate’s head land on the couch. As her mother swung out of Kate’s view and headed into the kitchen Kate focused on her ears in an attempt to listen to who it was on the phone.
When you had lived with someone long enough you can easily tell who it is on the phone by only hearing one end of the conversation. You recognise the tones your family member uses with certain people. But to Kate, the tone her mother had was quite unusual. She could not immediately recognise who it may be. Her mother spoke so cheerfully. She would never speak in that way to her husband, that was for sure.
Once her mother had hung the phone up she returned to the room, but this time taking the other couch.
“Who was it?” Kate asked, staring into the fire.
“It was your father,” Julie said.
Kate was quite surprised and she turned to face her mother with wide eyes.
“He got the tickets to the theatre,” Julie cried cheerfully.
Kate quickly moved into an upright sitting position, “Really?”
“Yes,” Julie said. “All that hard work finally paid off.”
“That’s great,” Kate said lying back onto the couch and closing her eyes.
“Are you awake?” her mother said.



“Are you awake?” Stephen said, louder this time.
Kate opened her eyes and saw her father looking at her with bright eyes.
“You must have been dreaming again,” he said.
“I was,” Kate managed through a series of yuans.
“Come on get up,” Stephen said. “School for you today.”
Kate signed and lifted her feet onto the cold floor.
Satisfied, her father turned and left.
“I’m going to visit Mum’s grave today,” he yelled outside her room. “You going to come or not?”
Although this was a perfect opportunity to get a day off school because they had buried her mother in the old farm far west from their house and it was at least a two hour drive Kate would rather be at school. Last time she went with her father she cried the whole way home and insisted that he brought Mum back and she wouldn’t go on without her. Despite her desire to spend the day at school rather than the day in pain and misery she knew how much it would hurt Dad if he did not have company while he visited Mum.
“I’ll come, Dad,” Kate said.
Her Dad smiled and continued with his duties.


The long drive was spent mostly in silence, with Kate staring out the foggy car windows, staring at the rain falling from the sky. They arrived at 2:00pm.
When they pulled up at the burial site and hopped out of the car Kate had to pull up her hood over her head. It was freezing and the rain was wetting her hair. Stephen walked towards the small stone wedged into the ground beside the road in a dream like manner. The roses lying beside the stone were dead. As he went to the car to fetch some water and new flowers Kate let out a quiet gasp.
There he was. The man she had seen last night. Standing on her mother’s grave. His eyes, redder than ever, his smile, haunting.
He stared at her, with an almost fixed glare, paralysing her ability to move.
“Stop him,” said the man in a voice that resounded off the landscape and echoed in every angle. “You must listen to me.”
“Dad!” Kate screamed.
Her Dad spun round with a puzzled look on his face. He saw Kate pointing into the air.
“Kate, what is going on with you?” he said, walking towards the grave with a bundle of flowers and a bottle of water in his hand.
His was heading straight for the ghostly man.
“Dad, stop!” Kate screamed, without the courage to pace forward and confront the scene.
Her Dad continued to walk closer towards the man, not being able to recognise his existence. He ignored her and planned to address the matter later, as he knew she was not mentally stable at the moment.
One last time Kate cried, “Dad!”
Her Dad walked straight into the man and with a loud echoing boom Kate’s world went black.


When Kate awoke she was back home, sitting at the old wooden table, facing her father. She looked outside. It was still raining heavily.
“And your opinion is?” Stephen inquired.
“What?” Kate said, confused.
“Do I have to explain it again?”
Kate shot out of her seat and spun around as if to be looking for something.
She looked at the clock, 5:00pm.
She spun and faced her father.
“What did we do today?” she asked.
Her father laughed, “You went to school dear.”
“What about Mum’s grave?” she asked, frantically.
“We visited her yesterday,” her father said. “What game are you playing now?”
“I’m in a game,” Kate cried. “But I don’t know the rules, and I don’t want to be in it.”
She ran upstairs.
Her father gasped as he heard his cupboard being open and, a box being opened.
He rose, and called her name.
Kate reappeared with her father’s shotgun in her hands.
“What on earth are you doing?” her father cried.
Kate ignored him as she ran out into the rain, and her father did not see her for many nights to come.




Chapter 3

“One must never forget the difference between a dream and reality.”

Laws of the Dream, Official Handbook


When Kate returned home it was late and she headed straight up to her room. Stephen followed, and once they were together in Kate’s room he threw his arms around her.
“Don’t you ever leave again,” Stephen cried, wiping a tear from his eye. “What is going on?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Kate said letting go of Stephen and falling back onto her bed.
Stephen studied her.
“You have been gone for five nights,” he shouted. “I’ve looked everywhere for you. Your going to tell me what is going on right now.”
Kate stared at the floor in silence.
“Kate,” Stephen screamed, waving his arms about furiously.
After a short while Kate responded.
“I think I’m going insane,” she said.
Stephen sat down beside her and Kate explained everything.


Kate heard her father’s footsteps creep down the stairs.
What was going on?
She disobeyed her father’s orders and got out of bed, and began towards the doorway to her room.
Another Bang.
A scream.
Her father’s voice.
She bolted out of her room, and just as scared as she was every night, she headed towards the stairs.
As she ran, she thought, so confused.
“How could this happen?”
“I didn’t even dream.”
As she descended the stairs she saw her father standing by the door with his bat, waiting for it to open.
Kate caught up to him and whispered, “What’s going on?”
He was breathing heavily, staring at the door.
“I think,” he whispered. “Whoever killed your mother is back, to kill one of us.”
He gave Kate the bat, “Guard this door. I’m going to quickly go into the kitchen and call the police.”
He bolted out of side leaving Kate confused and scared beside the front door.
Before long she heard the jingling of keys from someone on the other side.
She heard the keys enter to lock and frantically being twisted in a desperate attempt to get it open.
She was breathing so heavily.
Her heart, pounding.
Her father faint voice could be heard from the kitchen.
Hurry Dad, she thought.
The door was unlocked.
The person on the other side began to twist the knob.
Kate tried to scream, but nothing came out.
In the kitchen her father hung up the phone.
Kate closed her eyes and brought the bat back.
The door shot open and half consciously Kate swung the bat as hard as she could.
Bang.
When she opened her eyes she saw Stephen standing beside her, staring at the ground, his eyes as wide as ever.
There was a woman lying on the ground dead.
Blood covered most of her body.
A large mark on her head evidently showed where she had been hit.
Kate couldn’t believe her eyes.
It was Julie.

The End