Dream Student (Dream Series book 1)

by J.J. DiBenedetto

  It’s not until I’ve watched him walk back to his dorm, watched the door close behind him, that I go inside myself. I can feel goosebumps all over my body, but they’ve got nothing to do with the cold. “That was some show you just put on,” Melody Katz calls out to me as I’m unbuttoning my coat. I guess we had an audience.

  “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” I say, laughing.

  Mark Bainbridge and his roommate Allan are on the couch next to Melody. Allan answers me. “No, you don’t really have to, not with a performance like that!”

  I’m still laughing. This is just teasing; I’ve known all of them for my whole time at school, I’d call all of them friends. You know what, though? It wouldn’t matter to me right now if they were being mean.

  Still, I feel like I ought to give a little something back. “You’re one to talk, Allan. I remember you and Rita,” Rita Danelo, queen of the fire alarm panel, was his girlfriend until last summer, “going at it in the produce aisle of the supermarket that time. I thought somebody was going to have to hose you two down.”

  I can see by the nodding of heads and the silence from Allan that I’ve scored a point. I think I’ll leave on a high note. I wave goodbye and head upstairs to my room. I can probably get a couple more hours of studying done and still get to sleep early so I’ll be ready for my exam tomorrow.

  ***

  The next three days pass by in a blur. I don’t have any nightmares, for which I’m very thankful. I take my Statistics for Experimenters final on Monday and I’m pretty sure I ace it. I spend Monday night and all day Tuesday working on physics.

  By Tuesday night I’m pretty much going out of my mind, until Beth forces me to close my book and listen to her for five minutes. She reminds me that I did get an A minus on the first exam, way back in October before I stopped understanding anything. She adds that I’ve done all the homework and that as long as I just show up for the exam and write something down for each question, there’s no way I can score badly enough to actually fail the class. She asks me, “Doesn’t that ease your mind?”

  It’s a mark of how much I value her friendship that I don’t dump on what she said. I don’t point out that while I might not fail, if I do badly enough on the final I could end up with a D for the course. I don’t add that that would look just as bad as an F on my med school applications. Instead I thank her, hug her, and tell her with as much conviction as I can muster that, “Yes, it eases my mind a lot.”

  Finally, Wednesday arrives. The exam is at one in the afternoon. I try to cheer myself up by telling myself that at least it’s not at high noon. Beth forces me not only to walk over to Lardner for breakfast, but to put food on my tray and actually eat it. When we get back, I make sure my calculator, several pens, and the two sheets of notes we’re allowed are all in my purse. Then I repeatedly go back into the purse to check that they’re still there. I turn the calculator on to be sure it’s working. I fret about whether I should stop by the bookstore and buy an extra battery for the calculator just in case, on my way to the exam. I think it’s probably a mark of how much Beth values my friendship that she doesn’t strangle me to death.

  At noon, I’m sure to Beth’s great relief, I start to head over to the exam. It might be the cold air calming my mind, or maybe just knowing that in three or four hours it’ll all be over with, but by the time I get to the exam I feel–well, not confident, exactly. Maybe “accepting” is the best word. Whatever will happen will happen.

  ***

  It’s over. The exam was bad, but not nearly as awful as I imagined it would be. The hours and hours of beating my head against the wall going over and over everything did some good. I’m pretty sure I didn’t merely pass but–hopefully–managed at least a C on the exam.

  I walk out of the exam room and all thoughts of the test are banished; Brian’s outside, waiting for me. I run to him, hug him so tightly that he winces and I know that, for me, for this minute anyway, everything is right with the world.

  Eight: Close Encounters

  (December 13-19, 1989)

  I completely forgot that Brian’s got another exam tomorrow, so I don’t want to distract him tonight. He walks me home, though, keeping me warm and contented all the way. I give him a quick kiss when we get to the front door, and then, as he’s turning to leave, I pull him back for a not-so-quick kiss. But then I really do have to let him go so he can get back to studying.

  I also forgot about the dorm Christmas party tonight, but I’m immediately reminded when I walk in the door. Joe and Melody are stringing tinsel up all around the lounge, and there are a bunch of gifts already under the Christmas tree in the corner. I wave to them, head upstairs to drop off my coat, and return with my gift for George.

  “You guys got everything under control?” I ask. I’ve got some free time, if they need help.

  “The eggnog is in the fridge. Julie Paschal’s got a bottle of rum she promised to bring down to spike it with. And Mona’s going up to bring food from Hunan Coventry, so I think we’re all set,” Melody answers. I guess they’re covered, so I go back upstairs for a much needed and well-deserved nap…

  ***

  Someone’s got my arm, they’re shaking me–my eyes open slowly–it’s Beth. “Up you get,” she orders. “It’s almost seven.” The party. I could use another hour or ten of sleep, but I do as I’m told and get on my feet. I look down: still dressed, even my shoes are still on. I must have gone out the moment I sat on the bed.

  We go downstairs, and most everyone in the dorm is there. The food’s here and I help myself to a couple of egg rolls and squeeze in between Jackie and Kelly Travers on the couch. Joe Karver is playing Santa. He’s by the tree handing out gifts one at a time, making sure to give the recipients enough time to open them and be either pleased or embarrassed at what they got and who they got it from.

  There’s a cute moment when Jackie gets her gift, a pair of tickets to the Symphony, from Fred. “Yeah, that was random,” her roommate Carolyn yells out. The next gift turns out to be to Fred, and it’s an autographed baseball card. From Jackie, of course.

  Beth opens her bottle of gin to much ooh-ing and aah-ing. When she asks him if it was all his idea, Jim Quarters proves to be incapable of lying with a straight face, and admits that he had help. Beth doesn’t need to ask who from. “We’ll be opening this Friday night,” she promises.

  George gets handed his gift, and opens it up. He seems very pleased by his Opus the Penguin, and especially taken with the Cleveland Indians cap it’s wearing. But then he looks around blankly, trying to guess whose gift it is. “There was a card!” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “Not that you need it now,” I add, with a sigh. He thanks me; I have to say I did good.

  Finally it comes around to me, and I’m handed a rectangular box. There’s definitely something in it this time. I do open the card before tearing into the package. “Paging Dr. Barnes,” the card reads, “You might find these useful in the future. Merry Christmas, Mark.”

  I open it up, and it’s light-blue scrubs, the same kind they wear at University Hospital. “These are great!” They really are. I’m thrilled. “But what the heck was up with the empty boxes?”

  Mark shrugs. “I thought they were funny. Didn’t you?” No, but there’s no point saying that, is there?

  ***

  I’m back in my room now, and I’m not sure how I’ve managed to stay awake this long. The party went on until almost eleven. By popular request, I put on my scrubs and modeled them for everyone. A good time was had by all, but as soon as things started to wind down I went straight upstairs, got ready for bed and here I am, drifting off…

  ***

  …Sara‘s in the pool, the giant Olympic-sized pool on the other side of campus, swimming laps. She wouldn’t call herself a great swimmer, but she’s OK in the water, and she can’t figure out why she’s having such trouble now. Or why the water seems to be
hurting her; she feels as though she’s getting paper cuts all over her body. When she opens her eyes, she sees the answer: the pool is filled, not with water, but with books. Textbooks…

  …Without transition, she finds herself in the lounge of the dorm. The usual dusty purple couches are there, but where the TV should be there’s nothing, not even the faded old carpet. Just open ground with rocks strewn about. There she sees two familiar faces: Allan, who’d been teasing her the other night, she remembers, and another fellow resident, Jake. Jake, Sara recalls, is now dating Rita Danelo, who had been Allan’s girlfriend. They’re both dressed as though they ought to be in a swashbuckler movie, and they’ve both got swords. When Allan raises his sword towards Jake and calls out to him, “My name is Allen Irving. You stole my girlfriend. Prepare to die,” Sara knows that it’s Allen’s dream she’s in. She also knows that it’s at least partly thanks to her that he’s having this particular dream…

  …Sara’s in a dorm room now, but whose? It’s very neat, with the two twin beds pushed together to create a single makeshift queen-sized bed. She recognizes the occupants from a photo on the desk; dark-haired Julie Paschal, and her boyfriend, short, sandy-haired Glenn. Sara notices the mail on the floor by the door, and then the door opens and in walks Julie. She picks up the mail, examines it carefully. Sara knows despite never having seen it that the logo on the two clearly not identical letters is that of the American Plastics Corporation. She needs no special knowledge to guess that both Julie and Glenn have had on-campus job interviews with them. Sara watches Julie as she examines the thicker letter, addressed to her, and then the thinner one, the rejection letter, addressed to Glenn. Sara sees the conflict in Julie’s eyes as she grasps the two letters in both hands as if to tear them up…

  …the room vanishes, replaced by the back seat of a car. A very nice car, a Cadillac, Sara sees, as she looks out the window, watches as the car turns on to Old Tree Road, then continues on for a few more blocks. When it finally stops, Sara doesn’t need to see the driver’s face to know what it looks like; she doesn’t need to see what’s in the trunk to know what’s there; doesn’t need to watch to know what will happen next. She watches anyway, she can’t turn away no matter how much she wants to…

  ***

  I’m–where am I? In a car, out by Old Tree Road. He did it again. He–no, I’m in my room. In my bed. My left hand is aching–there are teeth marks. I can’t believe I–God, I must have stuffed my hand in my mouth while I was asleep, to try and keep from screaming, so I wouldn’t wake Beth up.

  I guess it worked; she’s sleeping soundly, not a care in the world. I look at my hand more closely. I came very close to drawing blood. It’s almost funny–for a minute I’m distracted by wondering what would have happened if I had? I would have needed stitches. How would I have explained such a severe bite, obviously by a human? Would I have needed a tetanus shot? Almost funny.

  But it isn’t, really. Because I know what the dream meant. I know that the girl is dead for real. Another girl. Two, now. I knew it would happen again, I said it, and now it’s happened. And I know there’ll be more.

  The tears are flowing, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep quiet, to let Beth sleep. I want to scream my lungs out. I want to call Brian and have him come and rescue me, even though I’m only the witness, and the one who really needed rescuing is beyond any help now. I want this to end.

  But I don’t do what I want or get what I want. All I do is clutch my pillow tightly and cry silently and beg for God or someone to help me, but nobody does.

  ***

  I might have drifted back to sleep for a few minutes here and there the rest of the night, but mostly I just laid there and cried. Beth is still asleep but she’s starting to stir, she’ll be up in a few minutes. I have to try and put the nightmare out of my mind, to be in a better state for her today. I told her I would spend as much time with her going over statistics as she needed, and I just have to keep my promise, that’s all there is to it.

  I take a deep breath, and another, and a third, and then I slowly sit up and even more slowly stand. I put on my slippers and my bathrobe; maybe a hot shower will clear my mind a little, get me ready to help her.

  It doesn’t really work. My mind is not any clearer, and it isn’t eased at all. At least I’m clean, and maybe–if Beth even notices how bad I look–I can pass it off as a bad night’s sleep thanks to too much eggnog. Maybe she’ll even be too worried about her exam to remember that I didn’t actually have any eggnog.

  “Don’t tell me you had another nightmare,” she says when I walk back into the room. So much for making up a story. She knows me too well, and I didn’t give her nearly enough credit. I should have known she wouldn’t just let it pass.

  She hugs me, and I hug back. If I don’t break any of her ribs, it’s not for lack of effort. “We don’t have time for it today,” I say when I–finally–let her go. “Let’s get you ready for your exam. We can talk about it tomorrow. Afterwards.” I gesture towards her Secret Santa gift, “We can do it over a couple of martinis. Fair enough?” I don’t even like martinis, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to drink my share of them tomorrow night.

  She seems doubtful, but either I look much more resolute than I feel, or she doesn’t have the heart to argue with me, because after just a moment she gives in and agrees with my plan, such as it is.

  ***

  As much as I had a mental block about physics, Beth has one with statistics. It’s frustrating to watch, because she’s this close to getting her mind around it. She just can’t make that last jump to the place where it all makes sense to her. About the only thing I can say for sure we’ve accomplished today is keeping my mind off of the nightmare. I didn’t describe it, so she doesn’t know how bad it was, and I don’t intend to tell her. At least, not until after she’s done with her exam, and then done celebrating being done with it.

  Actually, I’m not giving her enough credit again. She probably already knows. She kept looking at my hand, and even though they’ve faded you can still see the bite marks. I think she knows exactly what I saw and what it means, but I’m simply not going to talk about it right now.

  It’s dinnertime and we’ve been at it all day, except for a short break a couple of hours ago for her to get a snack and me to check in with Brian and see how his exam went. “I’m putting too much pressure on myself,” Beth says, stepping away from her desk with a defeated expression.

  “You just figured that out now, Miss Psychology Honors Student?” I get up from the desk as well. “Remember what you told me the other night? Even if I failed the final, I’d still done enough to at least pass physics anyway? You realize the same goes for you.”

  “I’m not taking physics,” she shoots back.

  “You used to be funnier. Is that the best comeback you’ve got?” is my reply. “Come on, let’s get some food in you, maybe it’ll start to make sense with a full stomach.” Probably not, but anything’s worth a try at this point.

  We meet up with Brian at dinner. Beth looks over at me, a question in her eyes, and I answer with a quick shake of my head. Brian doesn’t notice any of it. I don’t want to spoil dinner–well, spoil it any more than the cooks who made it already have–so we’re not talking about the nightmare now. Beth goes along with it, and we talk about how finals have been going, and Christmas plans, and a lot of other things that don’t seem all that important in comparison.

  The three of us walk back from dinner together, and when we get to Brian’s dorm I tell Beth to go on ahead, and I’ll catch up with her. Brian and I go upstairs to his room, and my hand automatically goes to lock the door behind us but I catch myself.

  I want to. I need to, frankly. But if I do, I won’t leave this room until morning and I promised Beth I’d stick with her as long as she wanted to keep going tonight. Now that I think about it, though, that’s not really s
uch a good plan for either of us.

  She is putting too much pressure on herself and if I leave it up to her, she’ll be up all night driving herself crazy. She’ll get no sleep and be worse off than when we started this morning. I’ve got a better idea. I pick up Brian’s phone and start dialing.

  I call Beth’s boyfriend. He’s surprised to hear from me. “We’re having a statistics emergency. We’ve been having one all day,” I tell him. He’s not surprised to hear that. “We’re going to keep at it for a while longer, but I need you to come over and distract her. Can you do that?” He asks what I mean by “distract her,” and I say, “I’ll trust your judgment. Can you be over to us at nine or so? I’ll head over to my boyfriend’s room, and you’ll have her all to yourself.” Brian blushes a bit as I say it. Over the phone, Ron gladly agrees. “But no spending the night. She needs sleep. Distract her all you want, but only until midnight at the latest, OK?” He agrees; it’s a plan.

  I realize that I didn’t even ask Brian; I just assumed he’d be fine with me coming over tonight. But looking over at him, it’s obvious that he’s not bothered by my failure to ask; he was hoping all along that I’d want to come over. I kiss him, much too quickly. “I’ll be back at nine,” I say, and I can see in his face that his answer is something along the lines of “I’ll be counting the minutes.”

  Who was it on TV who said “I love it when a plan comes together?” Was it Mr. T, maybe? He ought to see me…

  ***

  I come back to our room and Beth isn’t at her desk; she’s sitting on her bed looking at last Friday’s edition of The Observer, the school newspaper. I was too caught up in–well, everything, I guess–to even glance at it at the time.

  “Well, now we know what Dr. Walters was doing when you ran into him last week.” She tosses me the paper and I quickly read the short article.