Get Out Of My Dreams (Joe the Magic Man Series Book 1)

by Allan J. Lewis

  “So, are we clear about what are we going to say to Agent Jefferson?”

  “We don’t have any other choice; we can’t tell him about our real dreams,” Alice replied.

  “For sure, I can’t tell him about them raping me in my dreams.” He pulled a look of disgust. “And you can’t tell him about yours. He’ll think we are both crazy.”

  Alice agreed with him, but only on her terms. She told John that if she had that same dream again tonight, she was going to take Horse up on the offer. And, if John still had nightmares after that, then they both would have to go see a shrink and sort it out. They would also need to come clean with the FBI at that point.

  John reluctantly agreed.

  Chapter5

  Special Agent William Jefferson and his partner, Special Agent Amanda Smith, were on time. It surprised Alice to see that Jefferson was black. On the phone, his voice had

  sounded more like a fifty year old white schoolteacher. Jefferson was in his late thirties, tall, and good-looking. Amanda Smith was short, well-built, and in her fifties. Alice offered them coffee, which they declined. With all the introductions over, Jefferson and Smith sat down on the sofa. John and Alice sat on the love seat opposite them.

  “Mr. Timberlake, shall we start with you?” Jefferson asked in a businesslike tone.

  “I’d rather you call me John, and the wife is Alice.” The four of them smiled in unison.

  “Okay then … John…” Jefferson had his notepad out and read from his list of questions. “Did you have any dreams last night?”

  John shifted uneasily in his seat. “Yeah … the same old dream.” John hoped they wouldn’t be able to tell he was lying. “I opened the cell door and let three prisoners out.”

  “You let them outside … where?––the prison walls, or just their cells?”

  “Hmmm … I think it was to the yard so they could jog. At least, I think it was the yard; it was all mixed up.”

  “And these three men are the same three in all your dreams?”

  “Yeah, the same three every time.”

  “And you don’t know these men?”

  “No, I’ve never seen them before, and there’s no one on my wing with the same names.” As soon as he said names, John wanted to bite his tongue.

  “They gave you their names in this dream?”

  John hesitated before answering. “Yeah … Tony and Vince, and the other one had a nickname, Horse.”

  Agent Jefferson smiled, while Agent Smith wrote the names down. “Did you walk in your sleep last night and come down and take the bolts off?”

  “Yes.” John was hoping he wouldn’t ask Alice if she changed the code.

  Agent Jefferson turned to Alice. “Sorry to have to ask you this,” he looked at his notes, “but, did you wake up to find your panties on top of your slippers?”

  “Yes … I did.” Alice could feel herself blushing.

  “And were your panties just tossed anyhow, or were they folded neatly?”

  “They were laid tidily on top of my slippers.”

  Jefferson turned back to John. “Were you naked when you woke up?”

  “Yeah, but what has that got to do with my sleepwalking?”

  Jefferson ignored his question. “Was there another condom used?”

  John looked at Alice before he answered. “Yes, there was an empty packet on the bedside table.”

  “Alice, do you have any recollection of having sex last night, or of a sexual dream?” Jefferson returned his attention to Alice.

  Alice blushed again, not so much at the question, but because she had to lie. “No, I slept like a baby until John woke me.”

  Jefferson nodded and looked at his partner, then turned back to Alice. “I think we’ll have that cup of coffee now, if you don’t mind, Mrs. Timberlake.”

  “Yes, of course.” Alice was glad to leave the room.

  “John,” Jefferson gave half a smile: “Do you mind if we have a minute alone?” He pointed his hand to Agent Smith.

  “Not at all, I’ll give the wife a hand.” John was out of there like a shot. In the kitchen, he whispered in Alice’s ear. “They think I’m going to help someone break out of prison.”

  Alice gave him a strange look, and then asked, “Then why ask about my underwear, and if I remembered having sex?”

  John shrugged. “Beats me.”

  “Shh … he’s on his cell phone with someone.” They strained their ears to hear, but couldn’t make sense out of the onesided conversation.

  Agent Smith came into the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?” John and Alice assumed she was only there to prevent them from listening in.

  “No, we’ve got it.” John followed Agent Smith back into the living room, with Alice right behind him carrying a tray with four mugs of coffee, a jug of milk, and a bowl of sugar. She put it down on the coffee table in front of them, and then nervously sat back down.

  Agent Jefferson had finished his phone call and nodded to Agent Smith. Without so much as a thank you for the coffee, he continued the questioning. “Mrs. Timberlake, what kind of work do you do?”

  “It’s Alice,” she reminded him. She sat up straight and spoke proudly: “I’d like to say I’m a journalist because that’s what I want to be; but, I’m more or less an assistant to the Agony Aunt columnist in our local paper.” Alice saw the look of concern on the agent’s faces as they looked at each other, and Jefferson sighed before motioning for her to go on. “I read the letters that come in, mostly complaints, and then research for the answers.”

  Agent Jefferson looked at his notes before he spoke: “Can we trust you both not to say a word about what we are about to tell you? Especially you, Alice, can you promise me that you won’t go running to your editor with this story?”

  John gave a nervous smile. “What is it, something top secret?” He gave a little snicker. “Are you going to shoot us if we spill the beans?” He laughed a little harder at his attempted joke.

  Alice felt Jefferson’s stare go right through her; he hadn’t even cracked a smile at John’s humor. “I can’t see John’s sleepwalking grabbing the headlines, can you?” she asked.

  “Alice,” Agent Smith spoke in a soft tone. “We need to know we can trust you with this information … if it was to reach the press…” She left the question hanging and shook her head.

  Alice looked to John for help. “If it’s that important,” John leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, “then, of course, you can trust us.”

  Jefferson looked to Agent Smith, and she nodded. “All right, how shall I begin?” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We think you two have been hypnotized, and when I say we, I mean the Bureau––the FBI.” He saw the look of shock on John and Alice’s faces as they looked at each other. “There’s a man out there that likes to hypnotize people and get into their dreams.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” John sat back, shaking his head.

  Alice’s jaw dropped open, and she sat there dumbfounded, unable to speak a word.

  “Let me go on,” Jefferson held up his hand. “There have been many cases similar to yours, where people have behaved uncharacteristically in their sleep.” He looked at John. “Just like you getting up and turning your alarm system off and taking the bolts off the door, but not remembering doing it.” He turned to Alice. “And, there’s been an instance where a woman has woke up and found her panties folded tidily on the chair next to her bed, and she swears she wore them to bed every night. Over two weeks that went on, and her panties were on the chair every morning. She did, however, recall having erotic dreams. And all her windows and doors were locked.”

  Alice sat there, too spooked to say anything. John held her hand, and then asked Jefferson, “You think this guy got into our dreams?” John corrected himself quickly: “I mean, into my dreams?”

  “Yes, we do.” Agent Smith didn’t seem to notice John’s slip. “We call this guy the Magic Man. It’s the nickname the Bureau has g
iven him. We think he’s gotten into your dreams. And,” she leaned forward and gave Alice a sad smile as if to apologize for what she was about to say, “he used John’s body to make love to you. He made you fold your panties, and he made John walk in his sleep.”

  “How can he control us like that?” Alice was in a state of shock as she tried to make sense of it all. “Are you saying he used John to rape me?” Alice’s mind was in turmoil as she stared at Smith.

  “He must have hypnotized you both so you’d play along with his fantasy. We don’t know how he does it,” Smith replied. “We say he, but it could be a woman, however, that’s most unlikely. Our profiler thinks it’s a man, possibly a psychiatrist or psychologist, based on their use of hypnosis. We don’t think it’s your run-of-the-mill hypnotist that goes around doing shows, like the kind that takes people out of the audience to do embarrassing things.” She smiled sympathetically at Alice, noticing her discomfort.

  Jefferson took over from Agent Smith. “The Magic Man could even be a lawyer or a judge as he seems to have an interest in justice, as well.” Jefferson tried to smile when he saw the mystified look on their faces. “The Magic Man helped to turn a case around where a man was convicted of murder. He made the guilty woman write a confession of what actually happened, and then made her walk into the police department and hand over the confession, only for her to come out of the hypnosis later and ask what she was doing in a jail cell. She had no idea why she had confessed.” Jefferson could see his explanation of what the Magic Man could do only added to John and Alice’s confusion. He flipped a page over in his notepad. “Anyway, our profiler hasn’t gotten much to work with; she thinks the Magic Man gets his kicks out of watching through the eyes and mind of the husband as he makes love to his wife.”

  “Then he’s a sick Peeping Tom?” John felt like hitting or kicking something.

  “Yes,” Jefferson nodded. “He’s a voyeur from afar. He’s more than likely in his bed, somewhere, yet he can get into your dreams.”

  Alice was on the verge of crying when she asked, “So, you are saying he hypnotized me, and made me and John do things in bed?” She sniffed back a tear. “And we don’t remember anything about it?” She thought it must have been her who had gotten up and turned off the burglar alarm last night. The part of her dream came to mind when Old Joe asked her to punch in her code number. She must have been downstairs, dreaming she was in the prison.

  Jefferson nodded again. “He can make you forget the dream altogether, or he can let you remember every detail. He can play with your head for weeks; or, as in most cases, he just moves on to the next victim after a couple of days, with most people not even knowing he has used them. He wipes their memory clean.”

  “If he used John’s body to make love to me, how come he made John use a condom? Surely, if he was miles away, in his own bed, he wouldn’t bother with a condom.” Alice waited for an answer, but Jefferson just shrugged. “Why would he care if I got pregnant?” Alice had several questions running around in her mind as she pictured Old Joe in her dream last night.

  Agent Smith was the only one who could think of a response to Alice’s question. “Perhaps he asked John, in his sleep, if you were trying for kids, and when he said no, he told John to put a condom on.”

  “As if he cares,” sneered John.

  “Perhaps he does,” Smith answered. “He talks to his victims, so why not ask them questions? It could be part of his fantasy.”

  In Alice’s dream, Old Joe had asked her for the code, and Vince had thanked her for the condoms. She had thought Horse, with his humongous cock, might be the Magic Man, but it was Old Joe who had asked the questions in her dream. It frightened her knowing this Magic Man was awake somewhere asking them. It was a chilling thought as Alice realized she might be the Magic Man’s latest victim. Old Joe had said to her, “See you tonight … you know you can set John free…”

  Was Old Joe the Magic Man? Alice shivered. She tried to put on a brave face: “So, you don’t think he’s using John for a prison breakout?” She asked Jefferson, a faint smile emerging on her lips. “You just think he’s using us as playthings?”

  “No, I don’t think he’s using you for that,” Jefferson forced a smile back at her, “but we will check out those names. If the Magic Man wanted to break someone out of prison, I’m sure he could do it. How, is what we don’t know.”

  “I think his interest is in you, Mrs. Timberlake.” Agent Smith played with her pen distractedly. “You are a young, attractive woman. I think he just wants to use you and your husband for his sexual pleasure––like other cases we’ve heard about, he has his fun and moves on.”

  John was shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s a sex-crazed maniac and should be locked up.” He felt the Magic Man was using Alice to punish him. “How long have you been looking for this guy?”

  “We think he’s been playing these games for about seven years, maybe more.” Jefferson shrugged his shoulders. “Well, some of the cases go back that far, but the Bureau and the CIA have been looking for him for six years. He’s now on our most wanted list. Just imagine if a terrorist group got hold of the Magic Man and made him hypnotize the President’s bodyguard, and got him to kill the President first, and then shoot himself.” Jefferson looked at John and Alice’s shocked expressions; it was what he wanted, to frighten them into helping him. “He could make a high ranking officer in the army go and blow up some important building. He’s a threat to this country, so the sooner we get him into custody, the safer we will all be.”

  Agent Smith cleared her throat. “You know what it was like after 9-11. Just imagine if he was to hypnotize a pilot.”

  It was all too much for John and Alice to take in. A few seconds ago, John had wanted to knock the living daylights out of this Magic Man, but now he was starting to feel sorry for him. If the Magic Man was the Old Joe in his dreams, he didn’t seem to be the terrorist that they were talking about. The two agents had definitely inferred that the FBI and the CIA wanted the Magic Man dead, and not in custody. “So what’s your next move?” John watched them look at each other. “And how can we help?”

  “We need as much information as we can get about your dreams,” Jefferson said, looking in his notebook again. “If you can remember places he mentions, or if he says or uses some expression that sounds odd––anything, no matter how small it is, could help us to find him.”

  John nodded. “Okay, I’ll try, but he wipes clean Alice’s memories.”

  “Yes, but for some reason he wants you to remember your dream, and our hope is that he will visit you for a while longer.” Jefferson gave a lopsided grin. “The longer he stays in both your dreams, the better chance he will slip up and let out his identity.” Jefferson folded his notepad: “I trust you can keep this to yourselves, it will make it easier for us to catch him.” He stood, ready to leave. “It would be helpful to us, as well, if you could write down whatever you remember about your dreams; we’ll more than likely come by to see you tomorrow, or phone you.”

  “Yes,” Agent Smith gave them an understanding smile. “We’ll catch him sooner or later––they all slip up.”

  Chapter6

  After the FBI agents left the house, Alice and John sat down, staring at the empty mugs. Alice didn’t know if she wanted to cry or laugh. It didn’t seem real; it was as

  if they’d just been talking about someone else’s problems. “I can’t get my head around this,” Alice said as she put her and John’s mugs on the tray, and started to tidy up. “There’s a pervert out there getting into people’s dreams, and out of all the people in the world, he picks us.”

  “You’re not thinking of writing a story about this, are you?” John patted the sofa for her to come and sit down again.

  “No, of course not, I’ve made a promise.” Alice was thinking it over, though. “But it would make one hell of a story. I’d have a scoop, and the editor would give me a regular place on the paper.”

  “Never mind about the
story––what are we going to do about this Magic Man?” John put his arm around her, trying to comfort her.

  Alice’s spirit had picked up a bit at the thought of a possible exclusive on the story. If the FBI did catch the Magic Man, and it made the papers, then she’d have a firsthand account as one of his victims––that thought breathed new life into her.

  “If he’s using us, why can’t I use him?” Alice reasoned out loud. “Now that we know who he is, we can stand up to him. I’m going to tell him, tonight, to get out of my dreams.”

  “Huh … just like that!” John threw his hands in the air and moved away from her. He wanted to look her in the eyes to see if she was serious. “You think he’s going to listen to you, and everything will be back to normal?” He shook his head. “He’s a hypnotist––he has people doing his bidding, not the other way round.”

  “Okay, you tell me what we are going to do, then?”

  “Well, you can’t write a story because you promised the Feds.” They sat there in silence for a moment, and then John spoke casually: “I don’t think we should agitate the Magic Man, not that I think he’s a terrorist. I can’t see Old Joe being anything other than a dirty old man that gets his kicks out of watching us making love.” John put his arm back around her and gave her a hug. “I’m sure he’ll move on in a couple of days when he gets bored with us.”

  “You don’t think we should agitate him?” Alice didn’t know how he could be so calm about their situation. “You should feel like throttling him for invading our private lives!”

  “Yeah, I do, but when you think about it, what would you do in the nights if you had his powers––watch TV?”

  “Oh, so now you’re jealous of him?”

  John tried to make a joke of it. “Me … jealous … no, we’ve got the real thing. He gets his kicks by watching me having sex with the best looking woman in the world, any way he wants me to.” He shook his head. “The maddening part is that I don’t remember a thing about it. All I get is an empty condom packet for my troubles.” He smiled at her. “And he gets you to do goodness knows what to me. How come I can remember the bad things in my dream with the prisoners, and not the good things with you?”