back to reality. I stared steadfast at the left side of the abandoned building. Someone must have gotten in. That was probably the wood hitting the ground. But it didn’t sound anything like wood. I couldn’t bring myself to think of what it actually sounded like.
Another pop echoed through the still night and into my bedroom. At that exact moment a singular image appeared before me. The abandoned building and lonely street disappeared, and for the briefest of instances was replaced by the dark tunnel, stretching off into nothingness. And then it was gone, the dreary view from my bedroom returned and I stepped carefully back to my bed, nervously expecting another image to appear.
For the first time the tunnel had found its way into my conscious mind. It was time to find a way to end this nightmare for good.
3
Two blocks from the jewelry store was a peculiar little building that I passed everyday but never paid much attention to. A sign outside told that the building was constructed in 1914 and was one of the last original houses left in the city. It had yellow siding and a little porch out front. If I put my hands up to block out the rest of the city I imagined that I was in 1914. Unfortunately cars honking and people passing by talking about their smart phones ended my idealized reality pretty fast.
A sign above the door read: Mrs. Boove’s Psychic Readings. I wasn’t one to go to psychics if I could help it. My experience with such things began and ended in watching videos online of supposed psychics and then clearing the history in case someone burrowed my tablet. Questions are abundant when someone finds out you look up supernatural events.
I knocked on the front door at exactly eight o’clock, the time the sign said they opened. My head swung back and forth to make sure no one was around. There were plenty of cars going by, but I didn’t worry about that. It was the walkers on the sidewalk that I didn’t want to be seen by. The door opened and a young woman stood before me. She looked to be college aged and had long brown hair. She smiled appropriately for someone who worked in a business.
“Can I help you?” She asked.
“Yes, I was wondering if I could get an appointment today for an um—you know.”
“A psychic reading?” She said, smiling with understanding.
“Yes, one of those.”
“We have a website.” She pointed to the sign by the door. “You can make an appointment there.”
“My internet hasn’t worked in a while.”
“Alright, well Mrs. Boove has an appointment at 8:05, but she is open from 8:30 to 9:00. Do you want to come back then?”
“That sounds good. I’ll be back.”
“Can I get a name?”
“Agate.” I said without thinking.
“Alright Mr. Agate, I’ll put you down.”
I thanked her and started down the steps.
“You know you could have just come in. You didn’t need to knock.”
I turned around to see her smiling again. “I just thought since it was a house and all.”
“I know; it happens all the time.”
She shut the door. I started down the street and when I saw someone walking toward me on the sidewalk I pretended to be fascinated by a shop across the street in hopes they would not see my face. The burger joint with the strange breakfast was open and I went in there to wait. My usual table by the window was free and I sat there with a soda.
After a while the man at the table behind me got up to go and left his paper behind. I took it up to see if anyone had learned how to write a headline. The front page showed a picture of a mangled train lying on its side.
Two Derailments in Two Hours Kills 500
That was a much better headline. It got to the point and pulled at the heartstrings so everybody would want to keep reading. I tossed the paper back over to the other table and stared out the window again. The jewelry store wasn’t even close to opening yet. I didn’t have to be there until six. I hated the night shift. It ruined the whole day. It was all I had to look forward to during the day and it’s all I would do all night. At least with the day shift I had the night to myself and didn’t have to worry about getting my clothes dirty or anything like that. Well actually I still had to worry about that, I hadn’t done laundry in quite a while and it was only a matter of time until Mr. Stone or Jasper realized I wore the same thing every day. There were two other people that worked there. Some woman named Molly and her sister, Peg. I never saw them because they always worked the shift I wasn’t working. I heard good things, though. I would have given anything to have them to work with instead of Jasper. That guy annoyed me more than the jewelry jail itself.
I started back down the street when it was nearing my appointment. There were more people out now and I casually stopped to tie my shoes four times right outside the old house until I thought the sidewalk looked empty enough that I could run in without being seen.
The living room was off to the right and had a counter where the nice young lady I met earlier was sitting. The whole place smelled of incense. I guess that’s the official smell of psychics.
“Hello again, Mr. Agate.” She said when I came up to the desk.
“Hello.” I said, choosing not to correct her on my name.
“Mrs. Boove is ready for you. It’s the door on the left.”
I nodded and went in the door she was pointing to. It was a small room with a small table and a woman I took to be Mrs. Boove sitting at it. She wasn’t wearing a turban or any of the other strange things I had in mind, but she did have on heavy makeup that couldn’t quite hide her aging face. The table was also void of any crystal balls and there weren’t drapes hanging all over the place like I had seen in movies. It was simply a little room with a table and that was all. I stood near the door until she looked up from a piece of paper she was reading.
“Ah, Mr. Agate. What a beautiful name. Named after the stone, I’m assuming?”
“It’s more of a nickname actually.”
“Well either way have a set.”
I took the seat across the table from her. She smiled kindly at me, the sort of smile someone would expect from an old relative. I smiled back, but probably just looked creepy.
“So what can I do for you today? We offer tarot readings—”
“Actually,” I said, suddenly ashamed at myself for cutting her off. “I was wondering if you could help me with a dream I’ve been having. I don’t know much about recurring dreams but this one is always coming up. I’ve had it most nights this week and I’ve even seen it when I wasn’t sleeping.”
“How did you see it when you were awake?”
“It just sort of appeared in my head while I was looking out my window last night. I would have looked it up online but I don’t know what I can trust online. I just wanted a face to face kind of thing, you know? I guess this is more spiritual than psychic.”
“We psychics are one with spirituality.” She said calmly, looking me over. “Dreams can recur for a number of reasons. Is there something going on in your life that brings up strong emotions? Are you frightened by something or fearful of something? Are you currently worried about someone close to you?”
“Not really.”
“Then tell me about the dream. Where are you? Who else is there?”
I folded my hands on the table and stared at them. “I’m in a tunnel. I’m going towards something but I don’t know what it is. That was the first few dreams. Since then the dreams have been the same but now I’m getting increasingly scared. And then there’s something else that’s kind of strange. I wake up feeling way worse than the dream makes me feel. I think there’s an ending that I never get to see. Is that strange?”
She looked at me very seriously. “I should pull out the tarot cards.”
“No thanks; I only wanted to know if you could maybe tell me if recurring dreams are normal.”
“They are.” She said slowly. “But yours seems to be more serious than just rec
urring, especially if it makes you feel that way. Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to keep a dream journal. Write down exactly what happens in each dream and how you feel after each one. Try to find out if there’s any change in this tunnel. And also see if you are feeling the same emotions after each dream. Alright?”
“Sure.” I said uneasily.
“Then you can come back in one week, I’ll have Valerie make you an appointment.”
I sat for a little longer, wondering if that was it. For a psychic she couldn’t help me much. I was a bit of a skeptic when it came to businesses claiming to have psychics, but I did believe in the idea more or less. Less right now. When I realized the session was indeed over I got up to go. In the living room I went over to the desk and for the first time noticed the nametag on the girl there. Her name was Valerie Hankerson.
“I guess I need to make an appointment for next week,” I shrugged, “same time, or at least the same day.”
“I’ll make it up now.” Valerie said, typing the information into a computer. “Could she help you?”
“Not really. I mean it was alright, but I didn’t get any closer to figuring out why I’m having these stupid dreams.”
She looked up from the computer. “You’re having weird dreams?”
“Yeah, recurring dreams.”
“What are they about?” She asked critically.
“I’m in a tunnel.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh really? That sounds interesting.” She went back to typing. When she finished
The Tunnel Dream Page 4
