To Dream Again

To Dream Again

By Matthew D. Hay

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Matthew D. Hay

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, pleasure purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thanks you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For all who imagined stories in their minds and were brave enough to pen those emotions, those crazy ideas—those fantastical tales.

Preface

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In this world, there are few who can dream.

When people rest their eyes and fall into slumber, sleep is all they experience. This is the reality we find ourselves in. It wasn’t always like this, but there is very little any of us can about that now. Instead, a remnant of us remains who can dream—Dreamers we call ourselves.

We are special, more than human.

A lost, dwindling race of beings that have the evolving ability to go places and experience memories when we fall asleep.

We are Dreamers.

It is time, I believe, that we let the rest of the world know this.

-Munroe Adams, 1937

Prologue

______________

I could feel the cold water rushing around me, enveloping me in its icy maw. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and took in a deep breath. Instead of life-giving air rushing down my throat, I was inundated by frigid water. I could feel it spreading everywhere, locking up my body as if I’d swallowed cement.

This was my purpose.

I would fulfill it gladly, for it was what I deserved.

Though I would no longer exist in a world I’d once called home, someone else now could. A brief smile came over me as I thought of who I’d freed.

Still, the bitter, wicked part of me felt deep fear of the fate I was now destined for. As the dark, relentless waters poured into my body, I thought of the sins that had nailed me to this particular cross.

I ran out of the burning room as flames and smoke took over the house. I pressed a damp, cool cloth to my mouth, took in a breath and then used it to wipe my sweat covered forehead. Underfoot, the floorboards were catching fire as I tried to run out of the ensuing inferno.

Ahead of me, the front door was hanging by one hinge and slightly ajar.

I kicked it down, raised my pistol and stepped outside.

Words could not explain how incredible the cool night air soothed my aching, burning lungs.

I tossed the damp cloth behind me and it caught fire.

Thomas Newman! I stumbled down three concrete steps before I started running down his front lawn. Behind me, a portion of his roof collapsed, sending flame and smoke upwards. Sparks and embers fell on the grass around me—one of them bit my shoulder before I slapped it away.

Thomas Newman, you cannot run from me forever. By squinting my eyes, I could see the man jogging down the road, one kid in each arm. One of them was crying loudly, while my old friend tucked the child closer to his chest.

He won’t have to.

By the time her voice had registered, a plastic truck, about the length of my arm, rammed into the side of my head. She was standing behind me, holding the toy truck in her hand, bashing it against my skull.

Admittedly, it hurt like hell.

Unfortunately for her, she’d have to do a lot more than hurt me.

Damn it! I rubbed my head with my free hand, groaning in pain. I frowned when I saw her terrified expression. She stood outside of her house, holding the toy truck in her grip. Without batting an eye, she came at me again, swinging.

I stepped easily out of the way, raised my gun and slammed it against her face. I heard bones snap and crunch as I hit her again, wishing that I had bullets in my gun for a quicker kill.

I’m sorry Melissa.

Thomas’ wife, her face now covered in blood, dropped the toy truck.

The sirens I’d heard a minute ago were growing louder. Neighbors were rushing out of their houses, most of them gathering on the street, watching in horror. I found it funny that these same people, thinking of me as a cruel murderer, were the people I was inadvertently saving.

Saving by killing.

Before any of them could gather up enough courage to be a hero, I picked up the unconscious woman by her neck and dragged her to the burning house. Stuffing the gun in my belt, I picked up Melissa with both hands and threw her back into her burning home.

I hesitated, saw her body catch fire and ran down the stairs. Several people, who’d been watching, were now running towards the burning house, most likely shouting at me.

I didn’t stick around to see what they wanted.

I needed to find Thomas Newman and his two kids, and then I would do to them, what I did to Melissa.

I didn’t like it, but they would all burn.

Chapter One

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I can dream, Steven.

Julia lay on the soft grass, her face illuminated by the nearby flames. Propped up on her elbows, she moved closer to where her friend sat. Her eyes drifted to where the stars sat in the sky, staring down at her with white, shimmering light.

Steven, who sat beside her on his knees, raised an eyebrow. Oh?

You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you? She stared at the warm flames, spewing sparks into the night sky. Others sat around the fire, talking in hushed voices or staring ahead sullenly. For most of them, this was the last time they’d ever be able to do this.

Steven inched closer to her, bumping her playfully with his shoulder. No, tell me about your dream. I’m curious about this word you’ve made up.

I didn’t make it up—it’s just something you’ve never been told about.

Steven shrugged. Guess you can’t say that anymore. A smile spread over his handsome, dark face. So what is a dream?

Julia had been waiting to tell Steven this ever since she laid eyes on him. Though in her heart, she knew nothing but trouble would come of it, something else was drawing her to spill her darkest of secrets. It was as if the narrator of her life had suddenly erased her routine, sharpened their pencil and wrote a new chapter of her life. She was helpless—like a character in a novel—her attraction to Steven was something that transcended infatuation.

It was only fair, if she was to give herself completely to him, that he knew everything.

Well, most of everything.

Since this was her final night at camp, time was running out.

A dream Steven, she put her lips up to his ear, whispering to him, is a new world. When you close your eyes and sleep, you simply sleep. There is nothing. When I sleep, I go into new worlds, or old memories.

Steven’s eyes widened, and then narrowed almost simultaneously. You should let me dream with you then. I’m having a hard time believing you. His tone was teasing, yet curious.

Could he ever believe her?

Julia didn’t think so.

Maybe. Some night, I’ll have to show you my dreams.

Steven grinned. "I would like that very much. He poked her in the side, chuckling. Wiping a strand of dark brown hair out of his sharp blue eyes, he stared back out into the stars. Perhaps, if you’re not too busy dreaming, would you like to join me later tonight?" He pointed to the island on the other side of the lake their camp was situated on.

Julia held her breath, while her stomach filled with butterflies. The corner of her lips raised into a smile. I promised I would. She leaned in to him again, resting her head against his comfortable, broad shoulders.

Good. He put his arm around her, I want this night to be memorable.

Julia had no doubt that it would be.

However, she feared it was for different reasons than Steven suspected.

There are certain times in life that causes one to wish the moment would never end. Flashes of happiness so earth-shaking and euphoric that no second is too negligible.

Steven Walker sat at his kitchen table, staring straight ahead. His mouth dipped into a frown. His eyes drooped, and then clamped shut before more tears could stream down his face. He coughed violently enough for his face to go a crimson red and the tears to flow more steadily.

A mug of coffee sat dejectedly in front of him, steam rising out of its open maw.

He reached for it with hesitant fingers, wrapping them gingerly around the mug’s handle.

For Steven, his moment had already passed.

That night, he’d arrived at his home in Winnipeg.

He’d spent the better part of two days driving back home from Alberta with his father. In Alberta, he’d been at camp for a week and a half. Hope Springs Bible Camp was its name—and he’d been attending the camp annually for nearly a decade.

Each summer, before his father got sick, the two of them would drive across the country to spend all of August at the camp. Steven would go as a camper, his father was the speaker. In his younger years, his father’s job was to speak about his Christian beliefs to the hundred or so kids that came up to the camp every week of summer. He would tell them of their need for a savior and that they needed to become Christians.

Back then, Steven had wholeheartedly agreed with his father. He’d grown up a Christian, was taught the Bible, and told to pray each morning and night. Whenever they went to camp, he would sit with the rest of the kids, listening to his father’s words. While most of the kids goofed off, he would sit attentively, soaking in what his father had to say.

Oh my God, when is this going to be over? One of his best friends had exclaimed once during chapel when his father was speaking. Turning to Steven, he laughed, Ugh, your father is so boring!

Steven only stared back at him, unsure of whether to laugh along or be offended.

It was the first time he’d wondered about his Christian beliefs.

The summer that came after that one, was the first summer where Steven began to act out in chapel. He’d talk with his friends, have his mind wander or he’d sleep. His father, who still spoke with such fiery conviction and passion, would occasionally glance at his son, a shadow darkening on his face.

One night, three summers ago, Steven had been walking out of the chapel with his friends. The cool night air wrapped around him, bringing with it hordes of mosquitoes. Before he could run off to the cabins to flee the ravaging insects, his father called out to him. Standing at the doors to the chapel, a Bible in his arms, he waited for his son with a frown. Steven, he swallowed nervously, his eyes drifting to the ground, is… is everything alright?

It had been the first words he’d spoken to his son in months.

His lips stubbornly lifted into a smile at the sound of his father’s voice. He kicked at the gravel path with his sandal-adorned foot. Yeah, I’m alright. Chuckling nervously, he searched his father’s eyes, but found they couldn’t meet his own. Why wouldn’t I be?

You seem, um, distracted in chapel. I—never mind. His clear blue eyes finally met Steven’s. He awkwardly raised his hand, putting it on his son’s shoulders before squeezing them limply. It’s nothing. You can run along, I’m sorry. Turing back, he ducked into the chapel.

Oh. Steven didn’t remember what he did next, but he could recall with certainty the pain and anger that had rippled through his heart. He could imagine himself clenching his fists and turning around swiftly, going after his friends. His father, who rarely spoke to him, couldn’t even say more than two things to him. It was a reminder of how much his father hated him.

Though for a second, he’d wondered if his father did actually care.

Now, three years later, his father sat on the opposite side of their kitchen table. With his own mug of steaming, hot coffee, he stared out the window. Wrinkles lined his face like scribbled notes on a piece of paper. Red, swollen eyes held at their centre crisp, blue irises. A bulky sweater overcompensated for his frail, weakening form. A toque covered his bald head.

The two of them sat in awkward silence, surrounded by the luggage they’d just finished dragging out of their car. A spinning fan watched them from above, circulating the warm, muggy air. At the centre of the table, a fishbowl held an upside down fish, floating in green, rank water.

Both of their eyes landed on the fishbowl.

Steven smiled faintly, wiping his face of a few stray tears. I guess we know what we forgot to do before we left. Poor Sushi. ‘Sushi’ was the name of the fish that had been one of numerous ‘cancer gifts’. Not that it was a very thoughtful gift—who would give a pet that died easily to an already dying man?

They didn’t need a reminder that life was short.

He took a sip of his coffee.

His father broke out into a coughing fit.

The fish continued to lie on its back, staring at Steven with dark, lifeless eyes.

This summer he’d only gone to Hope Springs Bible Camp for a week and a half. For the rest of summer, his father had been too sick to go out and speak at the camp. His doctor had ordered that he get as much rest as possible. It’s funny, his father had remarked to Steven one afternoon after an appointment, they want to keep me alive, by taking away my life. I know they said it was a bad idea, but we’re going to camp for at least a week this summer. I might not be able to speak there, but I can’t waste what little life I have left lying in a hospital bed.

Steven wasn’t sure if he agreed with his father. Yes, the treatments and procedures had done very little to stop his father’s spreading cancer, but there was always hope. Steven hadn’t given up hope that a miracle could happen. And if lying in a hospital bed could prolong his life, than why not give it a chance?

All one could do was prolong their life.

There was a brief vibration in his pocket. Steven dug into his pocket, retrieved his phone and saw that someone had texted him. With a smile, he saw that it was Julia.

He still remembered talking with her on their last night. Her beautiful face, warmed by the firelight, was forever imprinted in his memory. It was the kind of beauty that a man saw once or twice in his life—the gorgeousness that transcended mere physical attractiveness.

Only, at the moment, he found it more of a tragedy—for she was now thousands of kilometers away. Most likely, she was lying in her bed, phone in hand. Perhaps even drinking her own mug of coffee.

Without camp, their lives would never have intersected.

Julia’s text message read, I’m going to miss you. There were no abbreviations or numbers replacing words in her text. She’d told him at camp with a sly smile, ‘I don’t understand how people can be so poor in their spelling. To me, nothing is more attractive than a grammatically correct sentence.’ Steven had laughed aloud at that.

Miss you more, read his reply. Closing down his phone, he took a gulp of his cooling coffee. Despite the pain tugging at his heart, his mouth couldn’t resist but turn into a large smile. Even her words on a screen could cause chemistry to swirl up like crazy inside his chest.

Who was that? His father spoke for the first time that evening, his eyebrows raised.

A friend, he stared at his father, unsure if he should say anything more. Just a friend. Slipping the phone into his pocket, he sighed loudly. His eyes began to close again, this time not to stop the tears, but because he’d spent the previous night texting Julia all night. Weariness spread over him like a blanket, holding him tightly in its warm, comforting grip.

Although he still had a lot of unpacking to do, he’d save it for the morning.

I’m going to bed, he slid off his chair and gulped down the remainder of his java. I’ll help with unpacking tomorrow, alright?

His father grunted a reply, and then sipped his coffee. Placing the mug back on the counter, he resumed staring out the window, where all that could be seen was a street lined with houses. A car’s headlights briefly shone into the window as their neighbor eased his way into his driveway.

Steven put his mug in the sink before sauntering down the hall and up the stairs. Once he reached his room, he closed the door and plopped on his bed. Though only a few sheets were what was left to dress up his bed, he didn’t have the energy to unpack his blankets and pillows. Instead, he slid under the sheets, took off his clothes and used his sweater and shirt as a pillow.

His phone fell out of his jeans pocket and onto the floor.

He remembered what Julia had told him about these things she called ‘dreams’. Ridiculous. How could anyone do anything more than sleep when their eyes closed and consciousness fell away? He’d never heard of anything like that before.

Still, he had to admit it would be pretty cool.

As his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep, he wondered what it would be like to dream.

Steven!

His eyes opened, and then snapped shut as relentless rays of light pierced his blue eyes.

He could hear whoever had called his name running towards him.

As the veil of sleep slipped away, Steven opened his eyes once more. Wincing from the sunlight, he rubbed the gunk from his eyelashes.

Where there should’ve been a ceiling, was instead a blue, cloud-dotted sky. A glimmering, yellow sun began to dip behind a bank of clouds. In the distance, he could see a flock of birds soaring towards the horizon.

Steven!

This time he knew whose voice it was calling him.

Julia? He paused for a long moment to stare with wide eyes at his strange surroundings. Lifting his head off the soft, green grass, he saw Julia’s pace slow as she approached him. No... This isn’t happening. He mumbled, trying to get to his feet.

Her turquoise eyes filled with fear for a split-second before a smile took over. She brushed a strand of brown hair from her eyes, kneeling beside Steven. You’re here.

Steven laughed, and then shook his head in disbelief. "Here? Where is here? I was just in my warm bed a few seconds ago—I don’t understand what’s going on. He reached out to touch her pale skin, and lightly held her gorgeous face with his fingertips. Tracing her cheek, he laughed aloud again. I can’t believe I’m seeing you again."

Smiling, she slowly got to her feet and offered him a hand. You’re in my dreams, Steven. I don’t know how it happened, but you’re here.

Your dreams? Steven took her hand, relishing how warm and delicate it was in his firm grip. Letting go, he stared deep into her eyes, too amazed to say much more than that. He looked at the valley that flourished around them. How?

I don’t know Steven. She met his gaze, blushed and dropped her stare. Drawing closer to him, she smiled in her intoxicating way.

Are you sure? That last night we were together, you told me about your dreams. Are you sure you have no idea how I got here? I mean before you, I hadn’t even heard about these things called ‘dreams’. Steven raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest.

It’s a gift Steven—but that means it was given to me, so I don’t have your answers. No one else in my family can dream, I’m the only one. Her eyes drifted to the right, then went back to meet his. Smiling warmly, she came even closer. I don’t know why I’m different, or how you got the gift as well. All I know is that I would’ve had to wait more than a year to see you again, and now, here you are.

Julia pressed her body against his, her turquoise eyes locked onto his. Her purple nightgown clung to her thin, short form. With a smile, she leaned her face close to his. We can be together, she whispered, her hands wrapping over his neck. We can see each other every time we fall asleep.

Saying nothing, Steven took her in his arms, his heart racing. Despite the hundreds of questions racing through his mind, all he wanted to do was hold her tight and never let go. To kiss her with all the passion he could muster. What if this was the last time?

Closing his eyes, their lips met and he kissed her gently.

She kissed him back, adding passion before he stepped back. A surprised, dopey smile hung on his lips, while she also stepped back. He remembered the last time they kissed, when they were in the canoe together, watched only by a distant, bright moon.

That’s when he promised, no matter what happened, they would always love one another. He’d known that since they lived nearly a thousand kilometers apart, keeping that promise would be difficult. When she was in her home in Camrose, and he was in his house in Winnipeg, he’d feared that he would never hear from her again.

Distance was a hard issue to deal with—he’d never considered having a long distance relationship. She’d been worth it though—that week and a half had been the happiest of his life. Despite his own many insecurities and failings, Julia had accepted his love.

So what is this place then? Steven glanced around him, soaking in the beautiful, magnificent nature that surrounded them. Mountains soared to a crystal, blue sky on either side of the valley, coated in a drizzle of white, frigid ice. The cold, quiet mountains were a striking contrast to the warm, alive valley which lay at the peaks toes.

For endless kilometers the landscape flowed in opposite directions down the valley, covered in green, softly waving grass. Only, on one end of the valley, there was a slight dip into the purple, dark waters of an expansive lake.

However wondrous the vistas were, Steven admitted that they were all strange to him. He’d never been in a place similar to this one. If dreams, like Julia said, were based on past experiences and sights, why was this place so alien?

This place? Well, I think I used to come here when I was younger. Not this place exactly of course. This is more a variation of the park I used to visit with my family in the Rockies. Julia looked around, smiling sadly. I’ve been here before.

She took her hand in his, grinning. Here, let me show you around.

Together they walked through the lush valley, marveling at the trees that branched up into the clouds, their leaves an array of colors. Other trees curved downwards, their branches going back into the ground, before sprouting up again, boasting of deep, emerald green leaves. Small, furry creatures ran throughout the trees, some of them hesitantly approaching Steven and Julia, before scampering off.

So what else do you dream of? He bent down, picking a bright, luminescent flower from the ground. Small thorns covered its base, one of which pricked his thumb. Instead of pain, he felt a cool, eerie sensation spreading throughout his hand. Dropping the flower, he gaped at his hand, which was shaking ever-so-slightly.

Julia let go of his unwounded hand, and took the other. Massaging it tenderly, she smiled in the way a mother does to a child who has made a silly mistake. There is no pain in my dreams—not the physical kind anyways. You’re not physically here, remember?

The shaking stopped, but Steven left the flower to wilt on the grass.

How come it feels so real?

Julia went back to the flower, scooped it up and broke off the stem where the thorns were. Smelling the flower, she offered it to Steven. "It is real. When you wake up tomorrow, you will remember every moment of this dream. Dreams, to me, are just as real as anything else. It’s a paradise, an escape."

Steven smelled the flower, taking in its lovely, fruity fragrance. It smelled like no other flower he’d smelled before. You didn’t answer my question before: what else do you dream of?

Julia grabbed his hand again, curling her fingers around his. I dream of different places, sometimes memories. Other times, the dreams don’t make any sense. She paused, swallowing nervously. Sometimes they frighten me.

Frighten you?

I don’t know what they are—but there are others in my dream. They aren’t like you and me—we belong here. She held his hand tighter. I’d rather not talk about them.

Okay, Steven gestured at the purple, shimmering lake. Race you there.

Letting go of her hand, he jogged towards the water. Laughing, Julia ran past him and he picked up the pace. The grass underfoot turned into sand as they held hands and ran into the cool waters. He dove under the surface, opened his eyes and saw it was just as incredible under the water as it was in the valley.

Julia followed him, diving down with him towards the purple, glowing sand. There was no pain in his lungs as they ran out of air, nor was there a growing pressure as he swam deeper. Turning to Julia, he saw that she was opening her mouth, and breathing in the water.

Her words came as clear to him as if she’d spoken them in the valley. Breathe Steven! She laughed as he shook his head, clamping his lips shut. C’mon, she poked him in the side, grinning. "Trust