The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults)

by Robert Scanlon

  But Nathan wasn’t listening. Deep in thought, he looked down at his hands and drew in a sharp breath. “How could I not have seen it?”

  “What? Did you hear anything that I said?” Sarina said, confused and sat up straight, looking at Nathan, “Anyway, what have you not seen?”

  Nathan held up his hand to her and turned it over to show her his palm. She gasped. “That’s Paolo! And Valkrog!”

  He lowered his hand. “I guess you mean the bird. I never found out his name, but”—Nathan became intensely animated as the words tumbled out—“I bet you are the same as me. I met Paolo in my dreams, but it always involved painting or drawing. I’d wake up and my room was covered in sketches and drawings. And you know me Sarina, I’m a science nerd, with zero creative spark, no clue about art, not like you, an artistic child prodigy.”

  Nathan’s expression changed and he looked Sarina directly in the eye. “And I was listening. You’re not insane, at least as far as I can see. I know we don’t exactly know each other well, uh …” he faltered, “we haven’t been friends anyway, but I think this is bigger than both of us, and what’s more, I think it’s real. And I think we owe it to Paolo to try our best to help.”

  Sarina was taken aback that Nathan thought of her as a child prodigy, but that would have to wait. She smiled. “Thank you for not thinking me mad. Or weird. You might be the only one right now. And maybe Paolo too—” her hand flew to her mouth. “Paolo! Here I am being all selfish and forgetting him again. Nathan, what was your idea? You know, the thing you said you hadn’t seen when you showed me the drawings on your hand.”

  Nathan took a deep breath. “OK. We’ve both talked to Paolo in our dreams, and for me at least, I always ended up with crazy drawings on my hands, on paper, everywhere, when I woke up, sometimes when I was doodling in class. I’m guessing that you also painted these dreams too, from the way you accused me of stealing your pictures?”

  Sarina nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Doesn’t matter. But here’s what I think—and it’s going to sound far-fetched.”

  “Far-fetched? You haven’t been in my head recently. Right now I don’t know what to believe, so explain away.”

  “OK. Have you heard of ‘wormholes’?”

  Sarina screwed up her face. “Things birds look for in the garden?”

  Nathan sighed.

  “Well go on! Just because I don’t know your stupid scientific words, there’s no need for you to act all superior.” She folded her arms and waited.

  “Sorry. Umm, let me start again. A wormhole is a link between two universes or two places in our own universe. Some people call them portals. My great-great-grandfather discovered them with Einstein.”

  Sarina groaned. “Right, here we go again. The great-great-grandfather story. Can you make it short this time?”

  Nathan stared at his shoes. “Er, yeah, I know. I do go on about him a bit don’t I.” He looked up at Sarina and hesitated before continuing. “This time, I think there’s actually a link. Somehow, just like a wormhole might link two places in space or even two universes, I think there’s something going on where we’re communicating with Paolo’s world through our dreams, but it only happens when we are painting or drawing.”

  He rubbed his temple. “Maybe there’s some connection with artistic creativity, or some radio waves in our brains that happen when we are dreaming creatively? And you and I happen to have been lucky enough to tap into it.”

  Lucky? Sarina wasn’t sure she would have called it that. “And? You said there was something you hadn’t seen. Is all this leading somewhere? We need to reach Paolo—and quickly.”

  Nathan nodded. “Well, with your painting skills, maybe we can concentrate and daydream together or something, while you paint. Maybe we’ll stimulate this—this ‘dream portal’ connection and reach him and help. Somehow. What do you reckon?”

  “You’re right,” she said, brushing back her hair, “maybe we can use the power of painting, and concentrating like you say. Perhaps the powers of both of our minds focusing on the one thing could help?”

  She looked back at Nathan, feeling the tears again at Paolo’s distress. “But it’s no use! How can I paint? I’m miles away from all my brushes and paints.”

  Nathan smiled and reached around to pick up some things from a tool bench behind him. “Would these help?” he said, holding out a can of garden paint, a can of black spray paint and a brush.

  Sarina felt the brave feeling come flooding back from when she had fought Valkrog, and it felt good. She drew a deep breath and looked at Nathan with a grin.

  “It’s worth a try! I won’t need the black spray can though, I’ll only need the brush and the other paint. Now let’s see …” she pursed her lips, looking around the room for a suitable canvas substitute, “ah—there!” She pointed up above them to a large flat wooden board shoved on top of the open rafters. It was almost square and must have once been white and was now a dirty-grey, but it would do.

  “Hang on a moment.” Nathan dragged over a rickety garden chair and climbed up, straining to pull the board free and tip it through the gap between the rafters.

  “Yikes!” Nathan held his arms up instinctively protecting himself as the board slipped free of his grip, falling to the ground and showering them both with white dust. “You OK?” He looked down at Sarina, who by the look of it, had borne the brunt of the dust.

  “Yes, fine. Dusty, but fine. Now,” she picked up the board and balanced it on the workbench, “we need to work qui—” her eyes went wide and her hands flew up to her throat and she looked at Nathan in alarm, barely able to speak. “Nathan, I’m sure he’s drowning. I can hear him in my head, shouting for me. Help me with this, we have to make it work!”

  Nathan pried the lid off the paint and handed it to Sarina.

  She took the brush and paused a moment to make a silent wish. She began painting, her hands flying across the board.

  Nathan stood back and watched in awe. He’d never seen a really skilled painter actually in the middle of painting and it was—well it was poetry in motion he supposed. Not that he’d ever seen poetry moving.

  In less than a minute the details were emerging. Nathan could see a dark forest and the outline of a boy, waving a hand at them, close by him an inky-black lake. The edges of the painting were beginning to shimmer.

  “Nathan!” Sarina startled him out of his trance, calling his attention without looking around. “Are you concentrating on Paolo?”

  “But how should I concentrate on him?” he asked, worried he would not be able to do it properly.

  Sarina turned and fixed his gaze. “Since you’re the one who said this might be connected with creative dreaming, I’d suggest exactly as he comes to you in your dreams. I’m doing the same as I paint and,” she looked back at the picture, “I think it’s working.”

  She looked at Nathan again, her eyes imploring him to do his best, “But it will take both our efforts.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes, picturing the boy. Paolo had a particular way about him. He was resourceful and strong-minded; a person who would fight to save the lives of his people. He tried to picture him that way, but not much more than hazy images came to him.

  A hand took his and the pictures in his head took on a lifelike intensity.

  “Look Nathan, it worked!” Sarina cried, and he opened his eyes and whistled.

  The painting, which before was quite two-dimensional, now had a dark depth to it. Inky black like the lake. Sarina, still holding Nathan’s hand, peered into it. “Time to really concentrate now, Nathan. Let’s see if we can make this dream as lifelike as possible.” She leaned into the picture, but nothing happened. She frowned. “OK, maybe we need to imagine the same sort of things we see in the dreams. Maybe we have to imagine Paolo calling for help. Let’s try that. Close your eyes again.”

  She took his other hand, closed her eyes and whispered. “Now focus on Paolo calling for help for a few seconds,
and on the count of three open your eyes and look at the painting.” She paused, focusing. “Ready? One … two … three!”

  They opened their eyes and looked at the picture which was now shimmering.

  “Whoa!” Nathan felt his eyes widening and his breathing stop. “That’s not a dream, that’s … that’s … It looks real.” He looked at Sarina, puzzled. “But we shouldn’t be able to do this.”

  “Bah! Scientists. There it is right in front of your eyes and you still deny it. Can’t you see? You were right. There is a connection with us and Paolo’s world, and we need to use it right now. We don’t have time to dissect it to see if it satisfies all your silly laws of physics. Paolo will be dead by then. Come on, let’s find out if we can see him.”

  Sarina poked her head into the picture, only to fall right through it, pulling Nathan through behind her. He thought he heard someone scream—and realised it was him.

  ~ 20 ~

  The Portal

  “Sarina, we’re actually HERE!” Nathan said, slipping his hand out of hers and privately hoping that was the last time they’d have to hold hands. “I’m telling you, that’s not physically possible. How did that work?” He looked back at the portal, hanging in mid-air behind them, and patted his chest and stomach with both hands to check he was still in one piece.

  “What are you doing?” Sarina sounded impatient.

  “I’m checking. We should be in tiny little pieces, if we just dropped through a wormhole.”

  Sarina exhaled. “Well obviously we’re not, so what does that tell you? Only that you are denying reality. I bet you’re the kind of person who would see a da Vinci in a gallery and wonder how mixing coloured substances could cause people to cry when they saw it on a wall. Scientists, honestly. You just want to reduce everything to something you can explain with some equation or something. As far as I know, science hasn’t been able to come up with an equation that can predict when something is art or not. So maybe what we just did will have to be labelled as a work of art.”

  “For now.” Nathan pursed his lips and looked at the shimmering portal. “Maybe if dark energy was increasing faster than we thought—”

  Sarina shoved him hard.

  “Ow! What did you do that for?”

  “Shut up. Paolo needs us. Or did you forget? Come on, let’s go.” She turned to the lake, seeming to know where she was going and started to run around the edge of the water.

  Nathan watched the portal with unease.

  Then it vanished, popping out like a blown light bulb.

  Hmm. Now how would they get back?

  He shrugged and started to run to join Sarina. So this was what they meant by ‘dreamlike’. Running here wasn’t at all like normal running, it had a more surreal, striding, quality. He put the thoughts of portals and dreams out of his mind and caught up with Sarina, who had arrived at the far side of the lake. “Can you see him anywhere?”

  They bent down and looked into the water.

  “There!” Sarina said, “over there—that reed! It’s floating along!” She cupped her hands to her mouth and shouted. “Paolo! Paolo! It’s Sarina!”

  The reed stopped abruptly.

  “How can he hear you?” Nathan frowned. “Isn’t he deaf?”

  Sarina glanced back. “To everyone else, but not to us. It’s something to do with the dream connection.” She shouted again. “THIS WAY, PAOLO!”

  The reed switched direction and headed towards them, bobbed up and down below the water a few times, then vanished below the surface.

  “PAOLO!” Sarina screamed, “PAOLO!” She waded into the lake, plunging her arm into the water where she had last seen the reed, and pulled on Paolo’s arm. She glanced back at Nathan. “Quick! Help me pull him out, he’s unconscious.”

  Nathan splashed in and grabbed Paolo’s other arm and together they dragged him out, still with the reed in his mouth. Sarina ripped the tube out and thumped Paolo’s chest.

  He coughed once and spluttered, opening his eyes and coughing up water. “Sarina!” He embraced her, drenching her with his wet clothes. “I knew you’d come!” He threw a look of thanks to Nathan, who smiled.

  Paolo’s expression changed abruptly and he looked over at the lake in panic. “We must get away from here,” he said eyeing them both, “there is a deadly gas coming this way. I wonder why it did not affect you? I think it’s already killed all the townsmen.” His face fell in despair.

  Concerned for her friend, Sarina reached to hold Paolo’s hands—and stopped, startled by the sudden energy that crackled between them.

  They both looked down at their hands. A white light pulsed between them, growing in intensity. Sarina pulled her hand back and the light blinked out.

  “Wow! What’s that?” Nathan said, startled, but peering around at their hands. “Hang on a moment. Can you do that again?”

  Paolo held out his hands and looked at Sarina, one eye raised.

  “It’s not an experiment you know.” Sarina glared at Nathan and turned to face Paolo, holding out her hands.

  Their hands touched and the light sprang into existence. This time they held their hands together.

  Nathan came closer and poked a finger at the pulsing light. He whistled.

  “What?” Sarina snapped. “We’re not specimens, we are actually human beings.”

  Nathan ignored her and prodded at the light. “Amazing. Cold plasma. But really cold, as in, ‘doesn’t incinerate your hands’ version of cold plasma.” He straightened and stroked his chin. “Interesting.”

  Sarina let go of Paolo’s hands and as the light vanished, she turned to glare at Nathan. “Please, Professor, do enlighten us mere mortals.”

  Nathan smiled at her. “It’s a good thing. Cold plasma is a serious energy. As in ‘energy of the sun’ serious. But to call it cold plasma is misleading. It’s normally at least 300 degrees. It’d burn us all up in nanoseconds. But that energy between you? It’s cool to the touch. But it’s definitely plasma.”

  “You’re still talking gobbledygook. What is plasma and why do I need to know?”

  Paolo leaned in between them. “I hate to stop your debate, but we have to get away. The gas is coming, the townsmen are dead or dying and I have to find the women and children. I might be their last hope.”

  Nathan looked at Paolo and nodded. “Yes I know, but hear me out a moment, because, weird though it is, it might help us. If you two can generate powerful energy like that, and you can channel it …” he hesitated, “then—”

  “Then what?” Paolo said.

  “You could use it. Maybe to blow the gas away. Or something. I don’t know yet. This is all new to me too.” Nathan shrugged.

  “Now you are making more sense,” Sarina said. “Maybe this energy explains why we weren’t affected by the gas.” She looked at Paolo. “Paolo, do you remember that dream—” she hesitated, “well anyway for me it was a dream—where you were pushing hard on the ground and the energy flowed and made Valkrog go away?”

  Paolo nodded.

  “I wonder if we can do that again?” she took a deep breath. “Now that we are physically here together, perhaps we’re more powerful? Just like when you pushed on the ground. Maybe as Nathan says, we can use this white light plasma thing to help us.”

  They gripped each other’s hands and Nathan watched on, afraid to move lest he affected the energy.

  Slowly the light built in intensity until it advanced up their arms and covered both of their bodies in a shimmering powerful sphere.

  The sphere flashed once with a tingling buzz then disappeared, leaving them all momentarily blinded. When they could see again, Sarina was the first to break the silence, looking at both Paolo and Nathan in astonishment. “What was that?”

  “I dunno,” Nathan said, “but I think it was some kind of expanding plasma energy, and more to the point, it felt … er, strangely good and not … er … evil.” He couldn’t believe he was really saying those words, but it was true. The sphere of light had
felt full of positive, good power. He wondered what Professor Harrison would make of that. It certainly wasn’t science as he knew it.

  Paolo was looking at the lake. “Look!” he said, pointing over at the dark edge, “the ripples in the air have gone!”

  They both looked at him, confused.

  “The air,” Paolo said. “Before, it was”—he struggled to describe how he had seen the gas—“it was dirty and rippling. Because of the gas I think”. He looked at Nathan. “Is it possible that our burst of energy has affected the gas as you suggested?”

  Nathan nodded. “It’s possible,” he admitted. “Even normal electrical energy can cause chemical changes to the air, so with what you two were doing with that plasma stuff …” his words trailed off as he looked at them both. “I thought you might be able to blow it away. But it looks like you did more than that.”

  Paolo grabbed Sarina’s hand, his eyes pleading for help. “If this is true, I owe it to my people to try again. Do you think we could make the gas in the township go away?”

  Sarina, who was looking at Nathan and caught his look of excitement, turned back to Paolo. “Paolo, I have no idea what happened, least of all if it has affected the gas. Maybe the wind just blew at the right moment, who knows. But you are right, we have to try. Just in case it was us. For your sake, we have to try.” She straightened and shook the tiredness out of her body, then grabbed Paolo’s hands in hers and closed her eyes.

  “Wait!”

  “What is it?” Sarina said, opening her eyes and looking at Nathan, who was approaching them with his hands out. “Do you have an idea?”