Dreaming

dreaming
by stacy carolan

He wished he were dreaming. Everything would be all right if he were dreaming.
         Drips and splotches of blood shown a startling red against the pale green of the locker room floor, and redder still on the white towel he clutched tight around his waist. Somehow, through all the punches, through all the kicks, James had managed to hold on to the towel. Perhaps that was why all of this was happening, but who could really say.
         A fist connected with the side of his jaw, and the world jerked out of focus. He felt one of his teeth with his tongue. It was loose.
          “Whatcha got to hide, Jimmy?” sneered Nathan. “Not much down below? Is that it? Is wittle Jimmy shy?” He gave a strange shrill laugh.
         Robbie was moving in front of him to get a better angle. An avid karate student, he was apparently eager to test his craft on something other than a hanging bag. Robbie was where most of the blows were coming from.
         When had this all begun? Five minutes ago? Ten? A month? A year? It was impossible to tell.
         If only he were dreaming…
         Robbie’s kick slammed squarely into James’s sternum, knocking him backward and breathless. He spared one hand from the towel to break his fall, and contact with the unyielding tile floor sent a shock up his entire arm. Blood flowed steadily from both nostrils. His kidneys felt like burning rocks beneath his skin. He didn’t know what broken ribs might feel like, but pain spiked his chest with every breath.
          “Just rip the damn thing off him, Robbie,” said Kevin. “I gotta be home soon.”
          “Nope,” answered Robbie slowly. “He’s gonna do it himself. Ain’tcha, Jimmy boy?”
         James stayed on the floor. His grip on the towel tightened involuntarily. He hoped Robbie hadn’t seen it.
         Robbie had seen it.
         ”Get up,” he said, his voice soft and menacing, a bare inch above a growl.
         James stayed on the floor. His tongue played over his newly loosened tooth, and while he and Robbie stared at each other, it slid out of its socket with a wet crackling sound, very loud in his head but surprisingly painless. He tucked it away between his cheek and gum, knowing full well he would probably end up swallowing it, but unable to bring himself to spit it out.
         Robbie leaned forward. “Get your ass up off that floor, or we will just rip that thing off you.” Kevin and Nathan chuckled.
         James stayed on the floor.
         “Fine,” mumbled Robbie. “Stay down then.” He swung his foot in a fast, powerful arc, and James fell the remaining arm’s length to the linoleum, his elbow bent slightly in the wrong direction.
         And as he lay on the cold tile, blood from his face channeling in squares through the grout, pain radiating out in alternately burning and numbing waves from his hyperextended tendons, his breath combusting within his lungs – as he lay there, he finally saw it.
         One of the steel combination locks on the far bank of lockers flipped against its door. Once.
         Nathan and Kevin were still laughing, so the sound of the lock was lost. But Robbie was watching James very closely, not laughing at all. He watched as the pain seemed to leave the boy’s eyes. He watched as a strange emotion spread itself across the freshman’s battered face.
         And with something close to amazement, Robbie realized what it was.
         Relief.
         It was at that precise moment that Robbie ceased to care about James’s towel. He ceased to care about certain suspension, probable expulsion, and possible criminal investigation for himself and his cohorts. He ceased to care about anything but his own blind and senseless rage.
         He simply wanted to make the boy bleed.
         He took a step towards him, fists balled and ready –
         – and stopped.
         James was looking at him.
         Nathan and Kevin had stopped laughing, their eyes bouncing from Robbie to James and back to Robbie again. The locker room was silent, and James’s soft words were clear.
          “…ooooo boy… here it comes…”
         He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

he opened his eyes immediately, but only in his dream. and even though the scene was exactly the same, he knew without a doubt that he was finally dreaming.
         objects had lost all stability; they were flimsy and easily moved. the mere weight of his eyes upon them was enough to slide them this way or that. he had to keep his eyes moving, not let them rest on any one thing for too long, or that thing would begin to move and shift. best to concentrate on objects attached to something else.
         like the combination lock that had moved just before he fell asleep. as he focused, the lock began to rise and fall, rise and fall, slowly at first, now picking up speed. after the lock had gained sufficient momentum, he looked at another. the second lock was easier to move than the first, and a third one easier still, until simply passing his eyes over a lock was enough to send it spinning on its hasps.

“Shit, did we kill him?” said Nathan.
          “He’s still breathin,” said Robbie. “And his eyes are movin around.” Almost to himself, he added, “I think that means he’s dreamin.”
         Kevin was wringing his hands together, his eyes fixed on the boy on the floor. “Freaky, man. I never seen no one just drop off like that. You sure we didn’t, like, you know, knock him out? Do people dream when they get knocked out? My Uncle Danny was in a coma for a couple days and when he woke up he said –”
         “Shhh,” hissed Robbie. “Someone’s comin.”
         Now they could hear the small, metallic sounds. But they weren’t coming from the hallway.

he let his eyes roam freely over the opposite bank of lockers. an ever-growing circle of locks raced along the wall, rippling from one end to the other and back like a penned animal. soon the wall was one solid mass of bouncing, clanking steel.
         he flicked his eyes towards the ceiling. the hanging lights jerked and swayed. the bulbs shattered.
         he glanced at the mirror above the sink. it shook itself to pieces.
         he looked at the garbage can in the corner, connected to the floor by two chains. one chain snapped immediately. the other held fast as the can whipped back and forth, trying to free itself even as it crumpled within the fist of an invisible giant.
         pleased, he looked around for something that wasn't fixed to anything.
         something challenging.
         something heavy.

The world was shaking itself apart around them.
         “What the –” began Kevin.
         “Jesus –” breathed Robbie.
         Nathan was pointing behind them.
         They turned to the bank of lockers across from the boy. And there, in that unreal moment – one of the few remaining to them – they all saw something different.
         Nathan saw the pond behind his house, and the tiny insects zigzagging across its surface, trailing their widening v-shapes behind them.
         Kevin saw the lawn below his bedroom window, rippling and wavering in the unseen wind, wind which his kindergarten teacher had once told him was invisible, but which he could nonetheless see in the grass.
         Robbie, his fury replaced by the sudden and futile clamor of self-preservation, saw trouble.
         And as the long, metal benches all around them lifted smoothly and silently into the air, he saw one last thing.
         The boy on the floor – eyes still closed, hand still clasped loosely on the towel, blood still trickling from his nose and mouth – was smiling.