Dream On

by M. Kircher

  "Men have always acted dumb around Mom. Even when my dad was alive." I can't believe I'm telling Gabe this, but I need to focus on something else while we hunt, to drown out my mother's wails.

  Gabe looks at me, and our eyes meet for one sizzling moment. I glance away.

  "Oh?" He opens another door. He sneezes and then slams it shut. "Nothing in there either."

  "Yeah, it used to tick me off when other guys would hit on her when she and my dad were out together. Though it never bothered him too much. He'd just laugh it off and joke that a man would have to be blind not to appreciate the beauty of his lovely wife."

  "Seems pretty secure of him."

  "Or pretty stupid," I mutter, and I run my fingers along the dusty wall.

  Gabe pokes his head into another room. "You're a lot like her, you know," his deep voice rumbles, and he glances at me out of the corners of his eyes.

  I feel heat creep into my face and dart my gaze away from his. I don't know what he's trying to say. Confusion roils inside of me. We've come to the end of the hallway now, with absolutely no luck. There's a narrow staircase in front of us, and with nowhere else to go, I take the lead and begin to plod up the stone steps.

  I don't exactly love the idea of Gabe staring at my butt, but I also don't want him to see how embarrassed I am. It's a major effort to keep my hands by my side instead of covering his view of my rear end. I grit my teeth and take the next step up, and the next, and the next.

  "I'm nothing like Mom," I tell him as I continue to climb. The light around us is getting brighter the farther up the staircase we go.

  Gabe chuckles behind me, and I twist my head to see what he's laughing at, desperately hoping it has nothing to do with my backside

  "What's so funny?" I demand.

  "I don't know how you can't see it, Em. You and your mom are so similar, it's laughable." He chuckles again. I stop climbing, and Gabe steps up next to me so that my nose sticks into his chest. My head tilts up, and I scowl at him.

  "Number one, stop snickering," I snap. "It's extremely irritating. Number two, you're dead wrong. Dad used to call us 'night and day'. Mom's all blond and gorgeous, and I'm dark and plain. She's this fragile thing who breaks apart and always needs someone to pick up the pieces. But I can take care of myself. And her, when I have to." I shake my head violently. "I'm nothing like her."

  Gabe steps closer to me, if that's even possible, and I have to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. I feel hot and short-tempered.

  "You're wrong," Gabe whispers, his voice deep and low. His eyes go black, and I'm not quite sure about the way he's looking at me right now. "You both turn inward when you're sad," he says. "You try to do everything alone, handle everything alone. You both shut people out."

  "I do not—" I start to protest, but Gabe puts his hand gently over my mouth, cutting me off.

  "Yes, you do," he insists, gazing deep into my eyes. "I haven't known you long, Em, but I see how you push everyone away. You did it at school. You're doing it to your mom, Evan, and now me."

  "I'm not pushing you away," I protest in a small voice. It's all of a sudden getting hard to breathe.

  Gabe leans down and my neck bends back further. Why does he have to be so much taller than me? I catch my breath as he reaches out his thumb and traces the shape of my right eyebrow. Then my left. Then he trails it down the edge of my cheek. His jaw clenches, and I feel like my heart is going to pound right out of my chest.

  I want him to kiss me. I decide to forget about Mom for a second — to ignore the danger of our situation and that we seem to be trapped here in her troubled, crazy mind. All I can think about is Gabe kissing me, and right now, I want it to happen more than anything.

  "You're wrong about something else too," he murmurs, and I wonder if his voice can drop any lower. It rumbles deep inside his chest. "You look just like her. You have the same nose and cheekbones, the same chin." His eyes drop to my lips. "You have the same amazing mouth."

  Did he just say my mouth is amazing? Oh crap. Oh crap.

  And then it happens. Gabe tilts his gorgeous face down to mine and cups his hand around the back of my head. His lips part ever so slightly, and I think I'm going to be sick and jump out of my skin with anticipation, all at the same time.

  Of course it's then that Evan's incredibly ill-timed shout startles us apart.

  "Emily! Gabe! In here! I've found something!" Evan's voice echoes from the rooms above.

  Gabe quickly lets me go and backs away, an embarrassed expression on his face. For about a half a second, I'm super disappointed, but then adrenaline kicks in. Evan's found Mom! I leave Gabe standing with his arms empty and race up the rest of the stairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "Mom! Evan!" I shout as my hurried footsteps echo loudly through the empty, white halls of the castle. Where are they?

  I run past a series of archways, each one seeming to lead to a different wing of the vast fortress. "Evan!" I shout again.

  This time I hear a muffled, "In here," from behind a large door at the far end of the narrow hall. I pound toward the wooden door, and when I reach it, I yank on the ivory handle so hard I'm surprised it doesn't rip right off.

  I rush inside the room and then stop, blinking in astonishment. The room is gigantic. It's easily twice the size of a sports field and taller than a four-story house. And the entire thing is full of mirrors. Panels of reflective glass line all four walls — at least as far as I can tell, with the end of the room being so far away — and cover the ceiling. The floor of the room is white marble, but everything else is one giant reflection. There are hundreds of mirror-me's staring around in shock.

  I rub my eyes and try to focus them. In the center of the giant room stands Evan, staring up at two of the most enormous birdcages I've ever seen. They must be at least fifteen feet tall. The bars of the cages are completely white, and inside each cage I can see a bird perched on a white swing. Evan is staring up at the bird on the right, which is a snowy, white owl.

  I run over to Evan, scanning the room as I go. I can't see Mom anywhere. "What's going on?" I demand.

  I hear footsteps pound in through the doorway behind me and then a softly whispered, "Whoa…" Gabe has obviously found us.

  "Evan, hey." I wave my hands in front of his glasses. "Where's my mom?"

  Evan points at the owl in the cage and then turns to me. "The cries are coming from in there," he says.

  I shake my head. "No way. It's Mom's voice — I'd know it anywhere. Besides, owls hoot, they don't cry."

  "This one cries," Evan insists and peers back into the cage. "Just wait and listen. I think she's talking to the raven in the other cage."

  I examine the cage on the left and see a raven perched there, high above us, his black feathers shining in the bright light of the room. He's the only speck of color I've seen in this entire dream. The raven's two black, beady eyes stare fixedly at the owl in the cage next to him.

  A shrill cry splits the air. My nerve endings quiver, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It is the owl. But instead of a normal birdlike hoot, my mother's heartbroken wail winds out of its tiny beak. What's going on?

  Before I can even process how completely bonkers all this is, the owl flings itself off the edge of her perch and flies straight for the raven in the other cage. She's going to smash her little skull into the bars.

  "Stop!" I shout, but the owl doesn't listen. She flings herself full force into the side of the cage, and all three of us wince at the dinging sound of her delicate head hitting the metal bars. There is a puff of white feathers, and we wait to see what will happen next. The owl gathers herself together, and then she does it again, ramming her tiny body against the side of the cage.

  Again and again and again she does this, until finally she falls, defeated, to the bottom of the cage.

  The raven, however, seems unmoved by the owl's outburst. He's scuttled to the far edge of his perch and sits with his back facing everyone, his beady eye
s trained sadly on the wall of mirrors opposite us.

  I stoop down so my knees touch the ground and reach into the bottom of the owl's cage. My fingers stretch and tentatively stroke her downy head. The poor thing is spent. Her velvety chest heaves up and down, and her wings lie lifeless on the floor. I look into her eyes, and that's when I know.

  The owl is Mom.

  She stares at me with Mom's eyes, and something connects between us. I could never explain how, but I know this bird is my mother.

  I gaze up at the raven, and his reflection blinks at me from the mirrored wall. The mournful expression is gone from his eyes, and now there's a knowing look there, one of wisdom and acceptance. I don't know why Mom's brain has made her an owl in this dream, but the raven is Dad, without a doubt. And he understands what's going on, even if he can't articulate it in anything but a raven's squawk. Mom's mind has had enough. She can't torture herself like this any longer, living half-alive and buried in her dreams. Her own consciousness has betrayed her and is forcing her to choose — either go insane or let Dad rest in peace.

  "Mom, it's me," I whisper to the owl, and when I speak, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I know its Gabe's. The owl just stares at me, her breaths as ragged as her feathers. "Please Mom, remember who I am," I beg and reach my other hand into the cage. I can just barely stroke her wing. The feathers are so soft, just like Mom's hair felt against my cheek when I was little and we would cuddle together reading a bedtime story.

  I feel another hand on my shoulder and twist my head so I can see behind me. Both Evan and Gabe are kneeling there, staring sadly into the owl's cage. I forget how ticked off I've been at both of them for forcing their way into my life. Right now I need friends, and I'm glad they're here with me.

  "Mom, come on. Look at me," I plead. "It's Emily, your daughter. You have to snap out of this. You need to wake up so we can get back to the real world, all of us together. We need you. Please. Remember!"

  The owl shuts her eyes, then — slowly, as if the movement is painful. And as her lids close, a single tear leaks onto her white, feathered face. A tear the color of the reddest rose you've ever seen. Blood red.

  It runs off her feathers and plops onto the white floor below her body. Crimson splatters everywhere. Then another red orb spills out of the owl's closed eyes. Then another. I start shaking, and Gabe tries to pull me back away from the cage, but I fight him off and cling to the bars.

  "What's happening?" I ask, panicked as the red drops multiply and spread. They swiftly cover the ground like a rising tide. The stuff sweeps over my shoes, and I cry out in disgust. Mom-the-owl lies limply on her back as the thick liquid rises, and she starts to float away towards the back of the cage.

  "No!" I yell and reach through the bars, straining to get to her. I plead at Gabe with my eyes. "Do something!" I beg him, and I can feel my own hot tears start to run down my cheeks. This can't be it. This can't be what Mom chooses.

  "I think it's time to go," Gabe observes calmly, but I don't think he's talking to me.

  Evan jumps to his feet and sloshes through the red liquid, circling around to the other side of the cages. "There's no door!" he yells and sloshes back. Wait, he's not grabbing Mom?

  I bang on the bars of the cage. Mom's tiny owl body is just a white speck in the sea of crimson flooding the floor. She makes no move to rise and fly out of the sticky wine-colored mess.

  "Mom! Wake up!" I scream. "Mom, right now! I hate you! I hate you!" My chest heaves, and my throat feels horse. The bloody liquid has now risen to our waists.

  "We have to leave," Evan bellows. "This stuff is getting higher by the second."

  "No! I can't leave her," I cry stubbornly and cling to the bars of the cage. "Please!" I scream again. "How can you do this to me? How can you let me be stuck in here? You want to torture me too? You're killing Gabe and Evan! How can you be so selfish? Listen to me!"

  My screams are swallowed by the massive room, and my blotchy, tear-streaked face stares back at me from the mirrored walls. I'm forced to watch a hundred images of myself as we're all abandoned by my mother.

  "Gabe, grab her," I hear Evan order. "We have to get out of here before the entire castle is flooded." He shakes his head sadly. "There's no way to get Lily out of the cage. I checked. No doors."

  Through my tears, I see Gabe nod and reach for me. I wrap my arms tightly around the bars as his strong arms circle my waist.

  "I'm not going," I screech.

  When Gabe tries to pull me away, I loosen one arm and rake my nails down the side of his face. But Gabe doesn't falter. He scoops me up into his arms and pries my death-grip off the bars.

  My head is swimming, and my breaths are short. I feel as if I'm going to faint. "No! No, please no! Gabe, stop!"

  I totally lose it. I can't leave Mom, and so I scream and claw and do everything I can to get out of Gabe's arms and back to my mother. I feel myself losing all control, and my vision starts to swim.

  And then I faint dead away.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I wake up in a nightmare of red. Everywhere I look, everything I touch, is the color of blood. I glance up, and a red-faced Gabe peers down at me. His lips move, but I can't understand what he's saying. My ears are ringing.

  And then everything comes rushing back all at once. I throw my head forward and vomit.

  "Awwww, Em. That's so gross," mutters Gabe, but he doesn't loosen his hold on me. Instead he kneels down and tips my head away from our bodies. Through my swollen eyelids I see the snow has vanished, replaced by a coating of thick, gooey gunk. Are we still in the castle? I look around and see red hills and red trees. We got out then.

  We got out, and Mom drowned.

  I feel a low, keening wail tear out of my throat. Gabe's arms tighten around me, and he manages to hold my hair back out of my face while I continue to cry and empty the contents of my imaginary stomach. Apparently, even imaginary vomit reeks.

  "Feel better now?" he asks. Without lifting my head, I shake it. I'll never feel better again. Mom's gone, and she'll be stuck in her crazy, fractured mind forever.

  "How could you let her die?" I cry and wipe my hand across my mouth. "Don't you know what you've done?"

  "Em," Gabe replies gently. "There's something you need to see."

  I groan and push myself off the sticky ground. My head is pounding. "What, Gabe?" I ask weakly. Every muscle and bone in my body hurts. "What do I need to see?"

  I can tell we're outside of the castle, but the entire landscape has changed. The beautiful warm world of white has vanished and been replaced by a coating of red goo. The stuff coats everything. It's completely disgusting, and I want to leave this dream right now.

  "Not there, Em. Here." Gabe directs my gaze back down to the ground.

  When I look, I see Evan kneeling down on the ground, and in his arms is a woman. The woman is covered in red gunk, but I'd know her face anywhere — it's my mother.

  "Mom," I shriek joyously and drop to my knees. Her eyes are closed, but I can see her chest moving up and down. She's alive! "I knew you wouldn't leave me," I exclaim and bury my head in her shirt.

  "Emily," cautions Evan is his best grown-up voice, but I don't pay him any attention.

  "I knew you wouldn't abandon me — I just knew it," I half-sob, and I squeeze Mom tighter. My heart feels as though it's just been on one of those old-timey amusement park rides — the ones that would go way up high, then plummet fast to the ground. I forget what they're called, but the adrenaline rush you'd get riding one of them is what's pumping through my veins. Mom chose me!

  I pull back and see that Mom's eyes are open and she's looking at me, a vacant expression on her face. "Mom! I'm so glad you're awake."

  I eagerly wait for a reply, but she doesn't say anything at all. She just stares at me with Evan's arms around her, his face scrunching nervously at me above her head.

  "Emily," Evan tries again, and I peer up into his spectacles.

  "What's wrong with her?" I ask ne
rvously. Why won't Mom say anything?

  "Emily, your mother doesn't seem to be able to speak right now." He clears his throat. "She doesn't seem to be able to do much of anything, as a matter of fact."

  I shake my head. "I don't understand."

  Gabe kneels next to me in the red goo. "Neither do we. After you blacked out, the castle was completely flooded. It carried the three of us outside, and when the flood finally went down, there was your mom, completely human again, lying on the ground."

  "But she's not herself," Evan chimes in. "We've tried everything we can think of." He glances down at the red ground, and his face burns a similar shade. "I even slapped her — just once," he reassures me. "I was trying to get her to snap out of it. But nothing's worked."

  I wave my hand in front of Mom's face. Her glassy blue eyes stare straight ahead. I snap my fingers by her ear, and she doesn't flinch. I try shaking her, but she doesn't respond.