The Gallery of Forgotten Dreams

by E. A. Owell

  Eliza did up her coat and opened the glass door to leave. But as the door closed behind her, her scarf got caught in it and she was tugged around. While helping her scarf off, she saw that the man in a hat was still standing in front of that ugly painting. She wondered what possibly so interesting he could have found in it. She finally released the scarf and left the gallery.

  Throughout the next week Eliza visited the gallery a couple more times. She did it after school, before the Library of Broken Promises. This time she simply came to have a look at her favourite nameless painting. She would have a glance at other paintings, too, but it was usually when she was about to leave that she did that.

  She almost didn’t go to the permanent collection section. However, every time she was in the gallery, she noticed, there was always someone by that dull painting with black dots and lines. She remembered seeing a young lady with large headphones admiring it for a long time, an old woman with a walking stick and thick glasses, a very businesslike man with his hair slicked back. Why that painting was so popular Eliza completely failed to understand. She came there for something truly beautiful.

  After the gallery, she would go to ‘Gregory’s Books’ to help Mr Wood with the Library stuff. At the end of that week Eliza bumped into Mrs Cornish again. She hadn’t seen her for a while, neither in the shop, nor in the gallery. But this time it was when Eliza was done with her shift and on her way out of the bookshop.

  She was about to say goodbye to Mr Wood when she saw him and Mrs Cornish at the counter. The shop was empty. Eliza didn’t recognise the old lady straight away. Mrs Cornish didn’t look herself. She wasn’t dressed in her usual extravagant glittery outfits but was wearing something baggy and dark. The dog was missing. But the biggest change was about her face: there was no remnant of a smile on her lips; her eyes were tired and dim, with a look of deep concern nested in them. Her face seemed deeply lined.

  Eliza froze on the spot, staring at Mrs Cornish who did not see her, her eyes averted to the floor.

  ‘Ah, Eliza, you’re done for the day? Thank you. I’ll see you next week,’ Mr Wood said with a habitual polite smile.

  At his words Mrs Cornish lifted her gaze and looked at Eliza, surprised, then nodded in greeting and twitched her lips, managing something that was supposed to be a weak smile.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Cornish…’ Eliza mumbled, still taken aback.

  Mrs Cornish lowered her eyes back to the floor, and Eliza came to her senses. Mr Wood cast a brief glance at Mrs Cornish and then looked back at Eliza. The expression on his face was soft but serious. Eliza nodded and left the shop without another word.

  She walked along the street that seemed orange in the light of the street lamps. She felt uneasy. She was worried for Mrs Cornish. It bothered her to see the old lady in such a state. It wasn’t the Mrs Cornish Eliza used to know. Something must have happened. Or, perhaps, had been happening for some time now, for this wasn’t the first time Eliza noticed something different about Mrs Cornish.

  And it was not good different, it looked bad different, and after today Eliza was only more convinced of that. And both times she had encountered the old lady in ‘Gregory’s Books’ talking to Mr Wood. He must know what was going on but didn’t talk about it. Ever. Which, actually, was only fair, in case it was an intimate issue, but that didn’t help Eliza’s curiosity that was growing deeper and more difficult to control. She would have to try and find out at least something about this whole business, whatever it was.

  Consumed by her thoughts, Eliza hadn’t noticed how she arrived home. She had dinner with her family, watched a little bit of TV and then left for her room, preparing to go to bed. All the while Mrs Cornish was on her mind.

  A thought struck Eliza. Did Mrs Cornish know about the Library of Broken Promises? She had seen Eliza in the shop quite often and she had never asked what Eliza was doing there. Was she also under the impression that Eliza was helping out Mr Wood with his store? Or maybe she simply didn’t wonder. Or did she… know about everything? Mr Wood seemed to be her close friend, after all. They go way back to the times when Mr Cornish was still alive. Could he have told her?

  Sleep silently crept up on Eliza and deep slumber finally claimed her.

  Eliza was in a dark room. It was night outside. The white moon was peering through the window into the room. The house where Eliza found herself seemed very old. She made a step towards the window and the floor creaked sharply. The sound seemed terribly loud in the dead silence of the house. Eliza froze.

  Suddenly she saw something outside the window. Something was climbing up, black against the shining moonlight. It was growing larger and larger. It looked like a human figure but the way it moved seemed not quite human. Eliza was rooted to the spot, afraid to move. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she watched the black shape grow in the window frame. She hardly dared to breathe. A feeling of dread seized her from head to toe.

  Meanwhile, the figure settled on the ledge and looked inside. Eliza saw two red gleaming eyes staring at her. Slowly, the figure pushed the window open. Steadily, it put one leg inside, then the other, and noiselessly slid onto the floor.

  Eliza wanted to run but she couldn’t tear her gaze off the red eyes. The figure made a step towards Eliza. Then another. Then another. It was close. Eliza could hear its raspy breath. Slowly, it started to stretch its hand towards Eliza. She was in panic but she couldn’t move. Her heart was beating faster and faster. The hand was getting nearer and nearer. It was several inches away from her face. Closer. Closer. Closer!..

  Eliza screamed. When she opened her eyes, she saw her room. She heard rushing steps and the next moment the door flung open and light filled the room.

  ‘What happened? Are you all right?’ Danny ran up to her.

  Mr and Mrs Reid ran into the room after him.

  ‘What happened?’ they asked, looking wildly at their daughter and around the room.

  ‘I had a nightmare,’ said Eliza, feeling incredible sense of relief, and relaxing into her mum’s embrace.

  ‘It was just a dream, honey, just a dream,’ Mrs Reid said, stroking Eliza’s head.

  It really was just a dream. Just a bad dream, thought Eliza.

  Chapter 5

  The next couple of days Eliza was ill at ease. She was afraid to go to sleep. The nightmare that she had had recently left a very solid imprint in her memory. The terrifying red eyes, the dreadful stretching arm… Even remembering it gave Eliza chills. She wanted to forget about it altogether but kept going back to it unwillingly.

  She felt safe during the day, but at nightfall she would give regular checks to the windows, half-expecting a tall dark shape to emerge. Only in the morning would she realise that the night had passed without any terrors, and in fact any dreams at all.

  The workload at school actually helped – she was so tired by the evening after a busy day at school and her shift at the Library that she almost did not have the energy to be worried or scared. And she didn’t have to wait for the sleep to slowly take her over. She simply fell into it the moment her head touched the pillow.

  About a week later, the black figure from the window paid Eliza another nasty visit. It was the same dream. And she was too scared to move again. And just like the first time, the black shape stretched its arm out, and just like the first time, Eliza woke up screaming. She was frightened to fall asleep again.

  Her family were beginning to worry for her. She felt distressed and found it increasingly hard to focus on things. Even teachers at school noticed it. To Mr Wood, Tom and Rachael at the Library she would just say that they were giving them a tough time with classes, thanks to which Mr Wood basically made Eliza take a week off the Library duties.

  ‘Everything will be fine. Just have some rest and come back when you feel better.’

  Eliza wasn’t sure it could help but Mr Wood insisted, so she agreed. She’d decided the nightmare returned because she kept recalling it, which prompted new
encounters with the black shape.

  She should take her mind off this thing. She should focus on something good and positive, like… The painting! The Leazi Dire painting at the Cornish Gallery! Why didn’t she think of it earlier? It was one of Eliza’s best dreams, and the painting brought her such a vivid recollection of it. It was pure joy.

  The very same day that Mr Wood sent Eliza home she went to the gallery. She saw the familiar sign and glass doors. She went inside for free, which she was beginning to get used to, and headed to the spot where the idyllic picture hung.

  When she came up to the painting, she was puzzled. There was neither the beach, nor the sea. Instead, there was a cobbled square with multi-coloured houses around it and a fountain at the centre, which looked totally unfamiliar. It wasn’t Leazi Dire’s painting.

  Eliza went around the new collection room but failed to find the picture. In fact, she didn’t recognise other pictures, either. They were new. All of them. Only now Eliza noticed a poster near the entrance to the gallery which advertised a new collection. A new collection.

  The full meaning of what was written hit Eliza. The painting she loved was gone. It was no longer on display. It was no longer in the gallery. It was gone.

  In desperate hope she ran to the permanent collection room but it brought no results. Permanent collection was called that for a reason – it didn’t change. They were the same paintings. Even that greyish ugly one in the corner that had someone staring at it again, some Goth-looking young man with spiky hair. What did they all see in it?

  Utterly disappointed, Eliza left the gallery. She slowly walked home because she knew she would have to go to sleep and there was a good chance of meeting the terrible black creature again. She dreaded it.

  She thought of what she could do to prevent it from happening and she could think of nothing. The only thing that could help her was now gone. Eliza was aware that staying up all night would not save her, either, for she would fall asleep eventually at some point.

  She felt trapped. And helpless. And there was no use telling her mum or dad or Danny about it because they couldn’t follow her in her dreams, could they?

  Eliza felt miserable going to bed. She took her teddy bear with her that night, something she hadn’t done in a long while. After half an hour, she fell asleep.

  The night had passed quietly.

  She woke up the next morning, relieved, but the sense of an ever-present alarm did not go away.

  The week that Eliza had off from the Library was passing by. She hadn’t had the nightmare all this time. But she grew tired. Being constantly unnerved, expecting the horror to come back, was exhausting. This week off did not bring any relief. It was as if she had never had it. She was looking forward to returning to the Library because it could at least help to take her mind off disturbing thoughts.

  On Sunday evening, Danny walked into Eliza’s room when she was about to go to bed.

  ‘You all right?’

  Eliza nodded, not looking at her brother.

  ‘Hey, it was just a bad dream, OK? It can’t hurt you. Just a stupid dream. Don’t worry about it,’ he reassured her.

  Eliza didn’t tell anyone, including Danny, what was distressing her but he must have guessed.

  ‘I know. But I’ve seen it twice already,’ she said.

  ‘Twice? Well, then you’ve got nothing to worry about! You don’t see one and the same dream more than twice,’ Danny said resolutely.

  Eliza looked at him.

  ‘Think about it: do you know anyone who has seen the same dream more than two times? That’s what I’m talking about! Even twice is a rare thing. Three times just doesn’t happen.’

  Somehow, these words and the confidence that her brother spoke with made her feel a little better.

  It was all the more bitter blow when, despite her brother’s theory, the very same night Eliza faced the horrible black shape from the window again. It happened for the third time that never happened to anyone.

  Chapter 6

  The next day, on Monday, Eliza woke up with a disgusting feeling of being victimised. She felt defenceless. That’s what being hunted must feel like. She hated it because she couldn’t do anything about it. Nothing depended on her. She wasn’t in control of her dreams, unfortunately. She couldn’t fight back, as much as she wanted to.

  These thoughts haunted her all day at school. After classes, as usual, she went to ‘Gregory’s Books’. Strangely enough, she hoped to find some kind of relief there. Although, why she thought so she did not know.

  Eliza came over to the bookshop and saw a sign hanging on the door. ‘Closed’. But the light was on. She looked through the window and saw that the shop was completely empty. Mr Wood had not warned her about closing early. And he hadn’t told her not to come. Nor had Tom or Rachael.

  Eliza tried the door… and it wasn’t locked.

  What was going on?

  She cautiously went inside and closed the door behind her. She went around the shop, making sure Mr Wood wasn’t there. There was only one option left. Eliza withdrew the purple curtain on the wall, pressed the button on the door and entered the Library.

  Inside, she saw a very bizarre company: Mr Wood, Mr Breakleg from the Fixing Department, and Mrs Cornish. They were talking to each other when Eliza walked in but presently became aware of her and the conversation stopped.

  ‘Ah, hello, Eliza,’ said Mr Wood, whose tone did not suggest that anything unusual was going on.

  ‘Hello, Eliza,’ said Mr Breakleg courteously.

  Mrs Cornish said nothing. While the two men stood up to greet Eliza, the old lady remained seated, watching the flame of the candle on the desk. She looked as if she had not had sleep for a very long time. Her eyes were bloodshot, she looked shrivelled and dishevelled, something you would not expect from Mrs Cornish. And yet here she was.

  ‘Are you all right, Eliza?’ Mr Wood asked, looking closely at her.

  ‘Yes. Yes, sorry, I just… am a bit surprised,’ Eliza replied and came closer to the desk.

  ‘I don’t think Mr Wood was talking about right now,’ Mr Breakleg said, studying her face.

  Eliza looked from one man to another, perplexed.

  ‘Eliza, are you feeling well?’ Mr Wood asked again. He looked worried. ‘Has anything happened?’

  Eliza realised that she must be really far from looking her best, given how much she was stressing out lately because of her nightly scares.

  ‘I’m just having a hard week…’ she said feebly, the shadow of the nightmare dread coming over her again.

  Mr Wood went down on one knee in front of Eliza and looked her directly in the eye, gently laying his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘That’s nothing really. I’ve just been having bad dreams recently,’ she said.

  Mrs Cornish turned her head slightly and looked at Eliza. Mr Breakleg frowned.

  ‘Bad dreams? What kind of bad dreams?’ Mr Wood asked.

  ‘Nightmares,’ Eliza said very quietly.

  ‘Do you often have bad dreams?’ suddenly asked Mr Breakleg.

  ‘No, not really. I usually don’t remember what I dream.’

  ‘You said you’d been having bad dreams recently. How recently?’ The chief Fixer kept on asking.

  ‘I don’t know. Not that long. Maybe two or three weeks.’

  Mr Wood turned around and looked at Mr Breakleg and Mrs Cornish.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ whispered the old lady and buried her face in her hands.

  Eliza didn’t know what was happening but she could see the grave look on the men’s faces.

  ‘What is it?’ Eliza was utterly confused.

  ‘Well, I think there’s nothing else to discuss for today. I’ll take you home, Mrs Cornish,’ said Mr Breakleg, putting his hat on and gently taking the old lady buy the elbow.

  Mrs Cornish slowly got up and, before she went, she took Eliza’s hand
and said, ‘I’m sorry.’ After that she and Mr Breakleg left the Library of Broken Promises.

  Eliza looked at Mr Wood, lost. He sighed.

  ‘Take a seat, Eliza. Looks like I need to tell you something,’ Mr Wood invited Eliza to sit down, ‘but first we need some hot tea. I’ll be right back.’

  After a couple of minutes he reappeared, carrying a tray with two mugs of tea and a plateful of biscuits. Somehow this simple thing gave Eliza comfort. She took her tea and turned all ears.

  ‘So. You said that you had been seeing bad dreams as of late. Which wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, except that – and correct me if I’m wrong – you have been seeing those dreams quite consistently lately.’

  Eliza nodded.

  ‘And it started, you say, about three weeks ago?’

  Eliza nodded again.

  ‘The thing is that you are not the only person who experiences this right now. There are other people who, all of a sudden, started seeing frequent nightmares at about the same time as you. And let me tell you, not all nightmares are so powerful as to leave a trace on a person, which shows, pardon me, in their looks.’

  Eliza could see that Mr Wood tried to put it delicately, but she didn’t mind it. She knew that her whole appearance betrayed her constant worry and alarm. It was a plain fact, there was no need to sugar-coat it.

  ‘But how do you know it?’ Eliza asked, sipping hot Earl Grey.

  ‘Ah, here we come to a very interesting point. I take it you have visited the Cornish Gallery, haven’t you?’ Mr Wood asked, which Eliza confirmed. ‘What did you think of it?’

  ‘I thought it was nice. And I found a wonderful picture there. It was like from my dream, a very good dream. Only now it’s gone now. They must have taken it down,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Would you like to walk with me to the gallery?’ Mr Wood suddenly asked.

  Eliza paused. ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, now. It’ll make some things much clearer. Including the nature of your nightmares.’

  Eliza had no idea what it was about, but she thought that if Mr Wood knew something that could shed some light on what was happening with her dreams, she would very much like to know it.