The Tunnel Dream

by A.S. Morrison

  Part II

  6

  That purple stain on the ceiling caught my attention for the longest time. I became conscious while staring at it. My mind was clear and my body rejuvenated. My legs swung out of bed and I was in the shower getting ready for work before a single thought entered my mind. It all hit me at once, the dreams, the fear, the thing that visited me. I sat on my bed for a while after my shower, staring unconcernedly out the window trying to figure out what I had promised to do that day. There was no work; I had a few days off. I wasn’t in school anymore; I hadn’t been for a while. My family wasn’t in town; I wondered how they were doing. An image of a girl and a house floated into my mind. Who was she, where was that house?

  I jumped out of bed. I was supposed to meet Valerie at Mrs. Boove’s. What time was it? The clock on my nightstand showed a ten. I ran out of the room, it didn’t even matter what the other numbers were. I was so late. I couldn’t remember what time she said to meet, if she even said a time, but whatever it was I knew it was long gone by now.

  I packed a small bag real quick and ran down the street to meet her. She was sitting on the steps of the psychic house when I arrived. She stood up when she saw me. Instead of being mad she looked worried.

  “What happened?” She whispered urgently when I got closer. “Are you alright?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way.”

  “Was it the dream?”

  “Sort of.”

  She led me to her car which was parked on a small road behind the house. It’s always strange getting into someone’s car for the first time. I sat with my bag on my lap and my hands on my bag trying not to touch anything. We pulled out onto the main street and she peeked over at me.

  “You can relax if you want, it’s a long trip.”

  I leaned back against the seat and folded my arms casually. “Sorry for being late.”

  “So what happened to you?”

  I told her all about the dream and then how I woke up and saw some type of creature with my mind. She listened somberly.

  “That is all very strange. But you said you felt better this morning?”

  “Yeah, I was so drained when the thing left that I actually slept the rest of the night without dreaming of anything.”

  “That’s good at least. I had the dream last night as well. I’m starting to feel nervous when I wake up. I know what you mean about the ending being kept away.”

  There was silence for a while.

  “What do you think of dreams?” She asked thoughtfully.

  “What?” I had been staring out the window.

  “Do you think dreams can predict the future?”

  “I’ve heard that they can.”

  “That’s interesting, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose.” I said offhandedly, vainly protecting myself from what she was getting at.

  “I once had a dream where I went to school and a friend came up to me to tell me her dog died. I thought that was strange, she didn’t have a dog. At school the next day someone, a teacher I think, came up to tell me my friend died.” She paused for a while. “It’s weird that my mind told me it would be a dog.”

  I wanted her to stop talking about dreams. I would have brought up anything to get her to stop. I said the first thing that came to mind. “Is Mrs. Boove really psychic?”

  “No.” She said casually.

  “Are you?”

  Again she took a while to respond. “My dad thinks I am.”

  “Do you think I am?” I said wearily.

  “I don’t know.”

  We dropped it there. I went back to staring out the window. The countryside came and went; a house here, a house there. I wanted nothing more than to have the life of whoever lived in those cute houses. I would have traded with anyone. The road took us through a tiny town about an hour into the trip. It was a peaceful little place, one of those towns you hear about with just the one traffic light. We passed a barbershop, a diner, a two theater cinema, and a police station smaller than my apartment. I imagined living there. It seemed so pleasant. Everyone knew one another and probably lived like they did in one of those old black and white shows I used to watch as a kid. Their lives were so perfect. I doubted that anybody really lived that way back then, but it was a nice thought. How hard could it really be to create a life like that? Go to the office in the morning, go to lunch at the corner diner, and come home in the evening to hear all about my family’s day. We all live happily ever after forever. No bad dreams, no cares, and no conflicts in sight. I wanted that so badly it hurt. I was tired of living alone and working at the jewelry jail. And I was really tired of having nightmares ruin what peace I had found in my life.

  The small town was long gone when I came back to reality. The pretty scenery of the countryside was gone as well, replaced with trees pushing in on the small road. There was something soothing about being in a car going so fast. I was leaving my everyday life and leaving all those cares I couldn’t stand to think about. No one could get us going that fast. We were in a bullet shooting through the air without a target. There was no way to stop us and no way to know where this road would take us. That’s all I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Drive away and never stop.

  I grew tired from sitting still so long. My eyes grew heavy and I let them close. I was determined to stay awake, but maybe I could get a little rest. I let the noise of the road and the soft shake of the car lull me into thinking all was right with the world. That was shattered as soon as we slowed down. My eyes flew open and I saw that Valerie was turning down a small road in another small town. I hated the feeling of slowing down. I didn’t want to reach anywhere, even if Mr. Hankerson could help. I was fully prepared to live the rest of my life at highway speed.

  This road wasn’t paved. The car bumped and rattled across the dirt for quite a ways. Nothing poked up over the flat landscape. The road continued indefinitely until a house appeared on the right side. Valerie pulled off the road right in front of it. It was one story and set back a ways. There wasn’t a tree or bush in any direction. The landscape was as flat as can be.

  She turned the car off and looked over at me. “This is it. You ready?”

  “I guess.”

  We got out and went up to the door. I was starting to get nervous. I had to remind myself several times that I had been invited. Valerie knocked and we heard a man shout that he was on his way. The door opened and a very thin balding man appeared. He smiled at us good naturedly and let us come in. We ended up in a large living room covered in an old brown carpet with several chairs and a little coffee table laid out. To the right was the dining room and kitchen and to the left were two bedrooms. The back door on the other side of the living room was open and a large white cat sat in the early afternoon sunlight on the patio. The house smelled just like every house I didn’t belong in. I was never sure what the smell was, I suppose it was just foreignness. Mr. Hankerson, who wore jeans and a button up shirt, led us into the dining room where he had set out chips and drinks for our arrival. Valerie and I sat at the table while Mr. Hankerson poured ice tea. He then sat down and stared at me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Agate.” He said with a southern accent of some sort, though I wasn’t sure where from.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I replied, taking quick glances at his eyes. I was really bad with keeping eye contact.

  “This may seem strange that I asked you here today, but I really want to talk to you about those dreams you’ve been having. Val has told me all about them and it seems that she’s having them as well. I don’t want to alarm you but I feel that they may be more sinister than they let on.”

  “Oh, they feel pretty sinister.” I assured him.

  “I imagine they do. Now I would like to hear it from you. Tell me everything that’s happened in your dreams and how you feel getting up in the morning.”

  Once again I recounted eve
rything I could about them and the unnerving emotions upon waking. I also disclosed the events of last night, with the image appearing and the cloud monster, or whatever it was. Mr. Hankerson was particularly interested in this. He watched me carefully and I stared at the table trying to avoid his searching eyes.

  “It is very strange then. Have you by any chance been keeping up with the news in recent weeks?”

  I shrugged. “The world’s a crazy place like it always is.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, not like this. In recent days—well here, let’s go into the living room and see.”

  He picked up his ice tea and went into the living room and took a seat on a large chair in front of a television. He turned it on and a news woman began telling about a war somewhere.

  “And you’re sure there is no reason for this war?”

  The camera cut to a man sitting across from the news anchor. ”These countries have not attacked each other or their interests at all. This is all quite baffling.”

  The news woman appeared again. “That brings the total number of nations that have declared war with each other to sixteen in just the last few days. For more on this story—”

  Mr. Hankerson muted the T.V. “Do you see that, right there? The events of the last week are mindboggling. Sixteen nations have declared war on each other. And this isn’t just in the Middle East or Africa where we might expect it nowadays. This is all over the world. Australia declared war on Malaysia. Honduras