by Glen Krisch
Carin was sleeping deeply when Kevin's screaming roused her like a face slap. She ran to his room when she heard his cries, and still fighting sleep's grip, thought he had fallen out of bed. His bed was empty. But she could hear his voice, his screams. She stumbled around the edge of the bed to the window and pushed the drapes aside. When she saw the open garage door, she bolted from the bedroom.
She stormed through the kitchen and saw that the back door was open. When she reached the garage, her mother was already there. Kevin was sobbing in her arms while mumbling something about his mission to help Mr. Freakshow. And something about the smell of his father's blood.
Carin's heart broke. She felt more sadness now than the moment of discovering James in the bus station bathroom. This was ten times worse. Carin began to cry the first tears she had shed since they moved to her mother's house. Before she lost it completely, she went to her mother and gently touched her shoulder. When she turned, Carin sat on the gravel next to her.
Under a canopy of night pierced with starry light, they held each other and shed tears for very different reasons.
Chapter 8
Carin stood with Dr. Edwardson outside an examination room. Her mother's doctor kept his voice quiet so Kevin wouldn't hear from inside. The doctor wore thick bifocals and had wispy fine white hair. His breath smelled like ancient dinner mints.
"Your son is fine. Physically, there's nothing wrong. Obviously, he's still suffering mental trauma over the loss of his father."
"What can we do? We can't go on like this. He sees something, I don't know what, but he sees something in everything he looks at. Something awful."
"I've seen this before. Happens every time soldiers come home. Post traumatic stress. Unfortunately, I'm not the doctor to help deal with something like this."
"So I need to consult a psychologist?"
"A therapist yes. I know a good man, a psychiatrist. Dr. Bennett. He even specializes in dream therapy. While I don't know Dr. Bennett's philosophy or practices, I've heard nothing but raves from his patients. From my experience, there's no better doctor for dealing with nightmares."
"When can we see him?"
"It normally takes a couple weeks for an initial consult," Dr. Edwardson said. When he saw the color drain from Carin's face, he added, "Let me make a phone call. Let me see if I can pull any weight and get Kevin in right away."
Carin focused on the road and the bombardment of midday traffic. The fatigue from a sleepless night was starting to catch up to her and her reaction time felt a second too slow. Kevin's eyes were closed and he hadn't said much of anything since they left Dr. Edwardson's office. They had an immediate appointment with Dr. Bennett, for which she thanked Dr. Edwardson profusely. Now, if only she could find the right address. She wasn't familiar with the neighborhood, but she had a feeling they were getting close.
Since waking this morning, Kevin appeared perpetually nauseated, while his skin seemed pale even after spending time in the summer sun with Reid and the other neighborhood kids.
At a red light, Carin looked at the scrap of paper with the directions to the doctor's office. It wasn't technically an office building, according to Dr. Edwardson. He'd said that Dr. Bennett was also working at a museum, and at least during the initial evaluation, Kevin would have to see him there. She didn't care if they had to meet with him in a junkyard, as long this Dr. Bennett was able to help.
The car behind her slammed on its horn when she didn't immediately react to the green light. "Hold on, I'm moving," Carin said as she accelerated. "What a jerk." A powder blue Fiat swerved around her, cutting her off before she finished crossing the intersection. The sour-looking fat man crammed into the car's tiny driving compartment gave her the finger.
She wanted to scream at the guy, but she took a deep breath and tried to decompress. Kevin seemed unaware of the exchange and was now looking out the window at the passing buildings, mumbling to himself, and for the first time this morning, seeming somewhat relaxed.
She heard partial words, but one stuck out in particular.
"What did you say?"
Kevin looked at her, winced at what he saw in his mother's face, but continued mumbling.
"Kevin, speak up, I can't understand you."
"Lu-cid-ity."
"Where did you hear that word? Why did you say that?"
"It's on a sign. I like how it sounds," Kevin said, pointing out the window.
Carin looked over her shoulder and saw the side of a lighted sign on a tall white pole near the street. They were too far away for her to read the sign, so she hooked a quick right and went around the block.
Lucidity, The Museum of Dreams
"What is it, Mom?"
Carin pulled into an open parking space in front of the building.
"We're here. I think." It was an old limestone building with columns framing the overhanging doorway.
"What is this place?" Kevin peered out the window, his nose pressed against the glass. The tension had left his face, at least, temporarily.
"A museum. The other doctor works here."
"Can we go inside?" he asked, his dour expression softened slightly.
"It doesn't even look like they're open." Which was true. A group of men wearing overalls entered through the front door at the top of the concrete steps. They looked like workmen.
"Please?"
Carin realized she didn't want to see Dr. Bennett, at least not quite yet. She didn't want to hear bad news. But thinking of the alternative brought her to her senses. Kevin needed help and as soon as possible.
"Okay, kiddo, let's go."
They climbed the steps to the front door. They stood for a minute, and Carin didn't know what to do next.
"Maybe you should knock?" Kevin suggested.
"I don't know about that. It doesn't look like they're open yet."
"Can I help you?" a man asked from the street level.
The man scaled the steps, and as he got closer, Carin could see pink scars on the side of his face and spiky locks of brown hair escaping from under his Chicago Cubs ball cap. One of his ears seemed larger than the other. When he reached the top step, she could tell his left ear wasn't real. He fit Dr. Edwardson's description perfectly.
"Dr. Bennett?" Carin asked.
"Yes?"
"Dr. Edwardson, he called over from his office. I'm Carin Dvorak. This is my son Kevin."
"Good. Perfect timing. Dr. Edwardson reached me on my cell, and I had to rush to get here."
"Thanks. We really appreciate it."
"What's inside?" Kevin asked as he tried to get a look inside the building through a curtained window.
"Why, dreams of course," Dr. Bennett said.
"Nightmares?" Kevin asked softly.
"Nightmares are dreams, aren't they?"
"Yes…"
"Nightmares are the most powerful of dreams, and we have many that will be displayed."
"I'm sorry, Dr.--"
"You can call me Maury."
"What exactly do you mean, displayed?"
Maury looked at Kevin and his gaze seemed to linger on his eyes, and their evident sadness. "Why don't I show you?"
"Really?" Kevin said with excitement. "Mom, can we?"
She too looked into Kevin's eyes and knew she couldn't deny him the hope of ridding himself of his burdensome nightmares. The three of them entered the museum of dreams.
Carin was astonished at the sudden change in Kevin's demeanor. He still looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, but his eyes seemed to shine. She walked a step behind her son and Maury, this slightly odd stranger with his slightly odd limp. He had swept in from who knows where to welcome them into this strange building. If workmen weren't bustling through the wide marble foyer, she might have taken Kevin by the hand and made a run for the car.
Kevin was talking to Maury and walking by his side like he had forgotten she was even in the building.
"Maybe this wasn't the best idea. We can come b
y your office when you have an opening," Carin said, and both Kevin and Maury turned to look at her.
"Mom, look at this place," Kevin said in a pleading tone. "It's incredible."
"Ma'am, it's no bother. I remember being Kevin's age."
Kevin's expression, bordering on dire, broke her will. She waved for him to continue his tour. Maury didn't follow until he was sure that Carin was okay with it.
"So you like nightmares?"
"No, sir," Kevin said. "Not one bit."
"Then, why don't we take a walk through the Serenity Wing?" Maury suggested, gesturing to a far doorway. "It's my favorite place to be. Nothing scary there."
Carin followed a few steps behind. When she entered the hallway with the glassed-in wall, the amazingly detailed mural with it's magical waterfall and shimmering shore, she picked up her pace, as if pulled by a subordinate gravity.
"Look at that!" Kevin shouted, pointing a trembling finger at the glass wall. Carin traced the focal point of his excitement and was astounded. Somehow, the room contained a dense tree line snaking into an S-curve backdrop. A downy purple fluff carpeted the ground in front of the woods. The trees bowed over under the weight of basketball-sized oranges.
"This is what I meant by display. This dream is called 'Gavin's Glade.' It was taken from the mind of a four-year-old boy."
Crystal-clear sunlight shone through the leaves, and a gusting wind rustled the branches, sending puzzle-piece shadows dancing into the ground-fluff. The shadows tumbled over each other, taking on the shape of black-furred squirrels with over-large ears and paws that would normally be attached to the body of a golden retriever. They bit and scratched at one another playfully, and chased about under the lowest branches of the dense copse.
"This has to be some kind of monitor or T.V. screen." Carin touched the glass, but couldn't figure out the trick. It seemed so convincing.
"I'm afraid not. 'Gavin's Glade' is as real a physical environment as this hallway."
Kevin pressed his face against the enclosure with his hands cupped around his eyes to block out any glare from the overhead lights.
He looked up at Maury. "This is pretty neat, Maury."
Maury leaned over to Kevin's eyelevel and stared into his eyes. He seemed to be searching for something. "I can see it, young man. You have a monster haunting your sleep."
"Mr. Freakshow," Kevin said quietly.
"Ah, the powerful ones always seem to have a name. It gives them credibility, and authority, I suppose."
"Dr. Bennett, can I have a word with you?" Carin asked. Kevin looked forlorn, upset over the interruption and the possibility that she might make him leave. Which was exactly her intention.
"Sure."
They left Kevin nearby, walking to the end of the Serenity Wing.
"Dr. Bennett, I don't know what you're trying to pull, but I'm not falling for it. I thought I could trust Dr. Edwardson, but you obviously have him fooled."
"Please, just see what I can do for your son."
"My son is fine, it's his dreams I have trouble with."
"Dealing with dreams is my specialty," Maury said. "I have the ability to perform a homeopathic, noninvasive removal of dreams from the dreamer's mind."
"And what does that mean?"
"You saw the dream, the mutant squirrels."
Carin turned and watched Kevin peering into the glass enclosure.
"This is so crazy. I don't know how you can get away with this… fooling people like this."
"I can help Kevin," Maury spoke solemnly. "I can see it in his eyes. He's dying inside. Rotting from some recent hurt, something so painful that he can't bear to fall asleep. It's to the point that he sees his horror, this parasitic haunting of his mind, even when he's awake."
"That's a good guess, but we're going to see a real doctor."
"Ma'am--"
"Carin. My name is Carin."
"Fine. Carin, a family physician won't be able to do what I can for Kevin. I can take his nightmare away. Afterwards, you'll take him home and he'll slowly heal, he'll recoup, and eventually, when he closes his eyes to sleep, he won't see this Mr. Freakshow. His life will extend beyond just this minute, this excruciating minute when he can barely hold onto his wits long enough to make it to the next. He will have hopes and dreams that won't scare him, that won't leave him hating life."
Carin's heart ached for Kevin. Her will was bending, but she tried her best not to show it.
"Let me talk to him. I can take away his pain. He can be home in time for lunch."
"And how much would this cost?"
"Nothing. Not a penny. We display the dreams to recover our costs and to not limit this procedure to the wealthy. You have to let me help your son. I won't be able to look in the mirror knowing I didn't do all I could for Kevin."
Carin looked down the hall, and she saw her son--gaunt, weary of the waking world, weary of the world hidden behind his eyelids. "Okay. Just let me know what you're doing. Every step of the way. If anything happens to him… if you hurt my son…" Carin said, and her will broke completely. Kevin couldn't take much more pain.
Carin stood outside an enclosure in the basement of the museum. Gooseflesh traveled her arms, spilled over to her spine. Kevin was in the enclosure with Maury. They were both seated in old wooden chairs, facing each other. In Maury's lap, he had a rubber reflex mallet and a small pocket flashlight. Kevin's eyes were glassy, and he seemed entranced by Maury's gaze.
Maury leaned forward, his lips moving deliberately, rhythmically as he spoke. He placed his left hand on Kevin's forehead. Maury's touch made her son flinch, as if in pain. Carin's fatigue was stripped away. She was ready to charge into the room, but Kevin quickly settled down to his docile trance-like state. Maury was now so close that his breath, his words, blew through the hair by Kevin's ear. Like a small breeze on a fall day and…
Distant words, torn from the wind, seep into the ruin. A hollowed, broken shell. A form crumpled across the bus station floor. Blood trickling, imbuing the air with copper. Life spiraling away, struggling for one more ragged breath. Losing all. Through fingers slipped. Away.
And the words, from without this sullen boy's mind, break through the barrier, break through the fragile bones grown round his mind; Mr. Freakshow's fist gripping him, tightening. And still, the blood spreads across the bathroom tiles, with its sad meaty stench drowning the cinnamon disinfectant stench drowning the urine and shit stench of his father's dying place. These words like rumor twice removed. These words prodding for answers, torn from the wind.
Kevin answers with a mumble. Maybe words, maybe a whimper of pain. Someone from somewhere far away shines a beacon of white light into the whites of his eyes and the pain pulls the Freak's hand into an even tighter grip. Someone from somewhere far away taps below Kevin's kneecap, sending a short and quickly forgotten jolt through his leg. It kicks forward, once. Then again a tap, a jolt, a kick. Again the beacon of white light. First one eye and then panning across to the other, sending a wash of pain stabbing through his skull.
Again, he hears words from a distance. Again prodding, again feeding on his mumbled response. Then the white-hot white beacon dims to darkness. The pain stabbing his skull, the Freak's clawed fist, insensate and cruel, slackens.
And the words, torn from the wind, fallen upon the ruin of his mind, coalesce: "Do you want this nightmare to end?"
And Kevin, sobbing, eyes closed to the sight of his father's dying place, his last breath: "I never wanted to hate him. I never wanted to miss him. I just wanted to be with him and be like him. Now I hate him. He's gone, and I love him and miss him. He won't let me forget it. His blood…" the boy's words become hitching, uncontrollable sobs. Oblivion. Ruin.
Kevin exhausted, bone-weary, speaking in his withered voice. "Mr. Freakshow… he won't let me go. Won't let me forget. His dying place, his last breath. Him fucking some whore…"
Now the words no longer prodded. They reassured. "Don't worry, it will soon be over."
/> Kevin took in these words, like a stranger's laundry pulled from a clothesline. As he focused to understand, seeing the fabric of these words, he exhaled some of the pain away. Someone was going to kill him. Take him away from this ruin. An end to it all. Peace and emptiness.
The emptiness of death would be sweet relief. "Okay."
…suddenly with the dexterity saved for mad magicians pulling rabbits from top hats, Maury removed his hand from Kevin's forehead, struggling for control of his deformed arm as if it had a will of its own… and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, without flashing lights, the roar of thunder, or a crowd's raucous clapping, the room held three people.
Kevin slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, the pain etched into the skin of his brow gone. Taken away. Replaced by tranquil repose.
Maury sat up in his chair, wide-eyed and awe-struck. He quickly gained his feet and looked at Carin. She was frantically slapping the glass until her palms stung and throbbed.
In the far corner of the tiny room, a slumped form, dead-gray skin stretched over massive, tattooed arms, greasy hair fallen in tangles over sharply ridged cheekbones to the level of the square jaw line, a beast more monster than man, stirring in his awakening. Her child's nightmare. Mr. Freakshow. In the flesh.
Maury, seeing Mr. Freakshow, pulled Kevin to his feet, and together they stumbled to the doorway. Maury closed the door behind them, nearly panting for breath. He locked the door, then double checked to be sure.
"What the hell is that, Dr. Bennett?" Carin asked, still struck numb by the transmutation.
"Mr. Freakshow. Let's get your son upstairs, to the sunlight."
Kevin wobbled between them, and they worked together to get him down the hall and to the elevator. His head listed from side to side and he appeared to be asleep.
