by Dima Zales
“I love you.” He says it in pretty much the same tone that you’d say “the sky is blue” or “water is wet” and that hits me even more than the words themselves. “This is where I should be.” Yes, yes, yes. And yes.
Except – there is a tiny little part of my brain that isn’t 100% happy. It’s saying, since when are you so needy? You’re such a baby running to Brian every time you feel a little bit scared. Yeah, maybe. That might be true. Right just now, though, I don’t care if it is. He makes me feel better, he makes me feel safe, and that’s good enough for the moment.
“Sara?”
Oh, right. “Sorry, I was just thinking. You know what, you have great timing. I was just leaving, so you can walk me home. And maybe we can go back to your room, we can spend the night there, how’s that?”
“Okay.”
I didn’t think he’d object.
Now it’s Wednesday, and I’m another day closer to finals. Biochemistry is Friday morning. There were a lot of complaints about that since nearly everyone in the class is dreading that exam, so the fact that it’s on the first day of finals seems particularly cruel. Personally, I don’t mind, because it’s my best class; I know I’ll do just fine.
Then there’s Statistics for Experimenters on Monday, which I’m also not worried about. Physics, on the other hand, next Wednesday morning, has me somewhere between frightened and terrified. If anything I’m even more lost than I was Sunday night. Everything Julie tried to explain to me has gone right out of my head.
On the plus side, I didn’t have any more dreams last night, mainly because I didn’t get a lot of sleep. Brian and I were up until almost five in the morning talking about everything except the dreams. He was very comforting, very understanding. And it’s funny; since I told him about the nightmares he’s pretty much always been in his confident place. He hasn’t had any attacks of nerves at all.
I know what’s going on. He’s so worried about me and my mental state that he doesn’t have time to be insecure and all the rest of that nonsense. I just wish I wasn’t having these stupid nightmares and I could be a little less nervous myself.
Whatever. Enough introspection for the moment. It’s time to get up and start the day. Brian’s still asleep, so I slide very slowly out of bed and tiptoe to the door. It’s better this way, because if I wait until he wakes up, or if I wake him up, I know what’ll happen next. I won’t be able to help myself, especially since we spent so much time talking that we never got around to it last night.
Not that I don’t want him right now. I do, very much. Too much. We could easily spend all day in bed, but as boring as it sounds studying for finals is more important. The world doesn’t stop turning just because of my own personal needs and wants, after all.
So I spent the majority of today in the library trying more or less in vain to get a handle on physics. My only break from that was to turn in my Science in Western Thought paper – Beth just about rewrote the whole thing for me, and I have to admit it’s a heck of a lot better now. And then I ran into the Student Union for a quick snack and a stop into the bookstore to find something I could use for a Secret Santa gift.
I ended up buying a Slinky. I have no idea why they sell Slinkys in the school bookstore, and I have no idea if George will like it. All I know is that he’ll get at least one gift for Secret Santa, and I consider that a moral victory for me.
Honestly, I think the fact that I can still function on any kind of level at all after several hours of torque and rotational motion – not to mention a couple of weeks of freakish nightmares – is a big moral victory.
Of course, I still have to find four more gifts for him, and what those might end up being I have no idea. My brain really isn’t up to the challenge of trying to figure it out at the moment. I need food, sleep and Brian, although probably not in that exact order.
I’m back in Brian’s room. He’s lying here right next to me. He just a couple of minutes ago drifted off to sleep. I can feel myself slipping away as well. It’s been a long day, after all…
…She’s somewhere vaguely familiar, but Sara can’t immediately place herself. It takes a few seconds. It’s a dorm room, that’s obvious, and a guy’s room, that seems pretty clear as well. It’s the exact same size as her room, so it’s most likely another room in her own dorm. She concentrates on the details, trying to figure out where, exactly, she is. There’s a definite theme here, she notices: the poster of the Manhattan skyline, a snowglobe with the Statue of Liberty – John! John from New York, this is his room.
And just as Sara figures that out, in walks John, and he’s not alone. The weird thing is, neither John nor his companion – Sara can’t tell who it is yet – appear to see her. The light bulb goes on: this isn’t her dream! It’s like the nightmares, except it isn’t a nightmare. It’s John dreaming, and she’s watching. Sara’s not frightened, because after all, John is harmless enough, and if she’s really honest with herself she has to admit that she is a little curious about all of this.
The door closes, and now Sara gets a good look at John’s companion. She’s stunned to see someone she recognizes. He’s with a tall, dark-haired girl named Annie Sellers. Sara can’t help but notice that Annie’s wearing a blouse cut far too low and jeans at least a size too tight. Sara doesn’t really know her, except by reputation; Sara’s heard more than once that Annie “gets around” pretty frequently. She thinks to herself: why the hell is he dreaming about her? What does he see in Annie Sellers?
She gets her answer when John and Annie descend together onto his bed. Sara doesn’t want to watch anymore – this isn’t frightening, but it sure as heck isn’t something she has any interest in seeing – but she can’t turn away, can’t stop looking…
… just like that, John’s room is gone, and Sara finds herself outdoors. It’s sunny out, and warm, and she can see green all around. The athletic fields. Intramural softball. Sara looks around, wondering whose dream this is. When she spots Jackie standing there at the plate ready to bat she knows for sure, although she couldn’t say how, that this is her dream. It seems perfectly normal, a regular game of softball. Until she turns her gaze towards the pitcher, and standing there instead of another player is a giant insect. An ant, Sara thinks. Wearing a university sweatshirt, with a glove on one of its – claws? – mandibles? Whatever, Sara thinks, this is just too strange. What the heck is going on in Jackie’s head? And the ant winds up, and throws a pitch…
…And she’s back in another dorm room, also vaguely familiar. She’s been in this room, and its occupant is a friend of hers. Mark. Mark Bainbridge. Sara remembers attending several of Mark’s parties freshman year – or at least remembers not remembering some of them. She also remembers that for the first couple of weeks of that year, she had a huge crush on Mark, just like nearly all the other freshman girls. Tall, handsome, clever Mark. Mark who is just now opening the door and walking in. Walking straight towards his bed, which, Sara notices for the first time, is not empty. Someone’s hidden under the covers. For one guilty moment Sara, the memory of her crush still in her mind, hopes that when Mark pulls the covers up, it’ll be Sara under there, Sara that he’s dreaming about…
…Before she can find out, Sara is somewhere else. A lecture hall, filled with students busily writing in exam books. It takes her just a moment to realize what’s going on here: she sees that there’s one student standing up, a little way apart from the rest of the class. A tall girl with long blonde hair. A tall, naked girl, and even before she turns around Sara knows that it’s her roommate. Sara laughs, because this dream she understands perfectly, especially when she looks at one of the exam books. Statistics, the class Beth hates most, the exam she’s most afraid of…
… Only a second or two after Sara understands what she was seeing in Beth’s dream, she’s gone, and now she finds herself in the lounge of her dorm, crowded with people, music playing, beer flowing. The Halloween party! She looks all around, and when she sees one of her floormates, a short
, pretty brown-haired girl named Diana Filardi, she knows, somehow, that it’s Diana dreaming this time. Diana’s sitting all by herself on the front steps, and Sara follows Diana’s wistful – again, she somehow knows that’s exactly the right description – gaze to its target, who turns out to be John from New York. John was the DJ at this party, and, it seems, Diana’s interested in him. Sara laughs; if only he knew that, maybe he’d be dreaming about her instead of slutty Annie Sellers…
…Once again, Sara suddenly finds herself somewhere else. This time, she’s in the back seat of a car – and in the driver’s seat is Brian! Sara knows who’s in the passenger seat, and when she looks, her knowledge is confirmed: she’s looking at herself. Outside the window, the streets are unfamiliar, but there’s only one place they could be going. When the car turns a corner and slows to enter the driveway of a two-story brick house, she knows this is Brian’s home.
The car is parked, the doors are opened, and Brian and dream-Sara exit, with the real Sara following close behind. They walk up to the house, and Sara sees the Christmas decorations everywhere: reindeer outside, a big wreath on the door, lights strung all around. The front door opens, and Brian and dream-Sara are greeted by what seems to be Brian’s entire extended family. Sara can feel the pride and happiness that Brian is radiating as he walks in with dream-Sara on his arm. She’s overwhelmed by the feeling…
…Someone – Brian – is kissing me.
That’s all I know, and it’s the only thing in the world that matters, being woken up by a kiss like a fairy-tale princess. We kiss for a good long while. Finally, I back off from him a little. “You were dreaming about me,” I say, unable to suppress a giggle.
“And you were dreaming about me dreaming about you.”
“That too,” I answer, and then I go back to kissing him. It seems like the only reasonable thing to do at the moment.
Thursday morning. Brian and I walk over to Lardner, and while he goes to get his breakfast, I spot Beth and sit down next to her. “You didn’t come home last night, young lady,” she says to me, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “I’m shocked. Simply shocked,” but she can’t keep it up; she quickly dissolves into laughter.
I laugh too, but seeing her brings to mind the dreams I had – I saw – last night. Including hers. I know we don’t keep secrets from each other, but she at least ought to have the choice to keep them if she wants to. How would I feel if I knew someone else was seeing what I was dreaming about?
She notices that I’m looking at her funny, and I realize I can’t not tell her. “Uh – I’ve got something I have to tell you,” I start, and she gives me a blank look. “Last night – well, last night I had more dreams. But I wasn’t seeing the nightmare, I wasn’t seeing that guy. And I wasn’t seeing Brian – well, actually he was one of the ones I saw – but…”
Her eyes go wide; she realizes immediately what I’m getting at. “Are you trying to tell me that you…?” I nod. “Me?” I nod again. “You’re not joking?” I shake my head. “I don’t even remember…”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You were in your Statistics final. Standing in the middle of the room. And you were…”
Now she remembers. “Naked. Of course.” She doesn’t look embarrassed, or at least she’s covering it well if she is. I’d be red from my ears down to my toes. “OK. That is just a little freaky,” she looks away from me, collecting her thoughts. “But it’s not like you can control it. And it’s not any surprise that I’m nervous about that exam. Right?”
Right. “I don’t want to be seeing any of this. If I knew how to switch it off, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I don’t want to know why Jackie down the hall is dreaming about giant ants, or that John from New York has a thing for Annie Sellers. I don’t want to know any of it.”
She looks at me in disbelief when I mention John. “You didn’t know that? He’s been like that all semester. It’s pretty sad, really,” Beth says, shaking her head as though I’ve disappointed her by not knowing the details of everyone else’s love life (or lack thereof). “He’s not her type, obviously – but you started this, now you have to tell me, who else did you see? Besides Jackie – and honestly? That’s just really weird. I’m not sure I want to know about the giant ants.”
Brian returns with a plate of what looks sort of like scrambled eggs as I’m telling Beth about the other dreams I saw. I told him already; we talked all about it on the way over here.
I kind of wish I hadn’t told either of them about the dreams; I feel like I’m breaking everyone’s confidences – but I go right on doing just that. I’ve just finished retelling Diana Filardi’s dream when Brian sits down across from me. I look over at his plate, and at Beth’s now-empty tray and I realize that I haven’t gotten anything to eat yet. So I excuse myself, and by the time I get back to the table, Beth’s spotted poor John from New York on his way out of the dining hall, and she’s flagged him over.
She’s not going to – oh, of course she is.
I’m too late to stop her, she’s already advising him to think about Diana. “Don’t you think she’s cute?” she asks him, and he agrees that Diana is, in fact, cute. “She really likes guys who have a big…” I glare at Beth, and she finishes with a laugh, “…stereo.” That’s why John is usually the DJ at our dorm parties; he’s always willing to lug his stereo with the ridiculously large speakers down to the lobby.
It’s clear from his expression that he hasn’t given Diana much thought before, and it’s equally clear that he’s now considering her in a new light. He leaves, with a very preoccupied look in his eyes. I’m at a loss; I don’t know whether to laugh or yell at Beth. “Don’t look so worried,” she tells me. “It’s not wrong if you’re using your powers for good.”
Powers? I almost laugh at that. But even though it was a joke, it’s kind of true. I guess I do have a “power.” Sara, the amazing psychic girl! That does have kind of a ring to it. Except…
“Sara? Are you OK?” Brian’s voice brings me back to the moment. He looks very concerned. I take his hand, give it a squeeze. That seems to satisfy him.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking. First of all, I’m not sure that pimping out Diana qualifies as ‘good.’”
Beth protests, “You say pimp, I say matchmaker.” She doesn’t give me the chance to respond. “It’s in a good cause. She obviously must be interested in him, and if he had any sense he’d be interested in her instead of Annie Sellers. We’re just helping nature take its course, right?”
I shrug. What can I say, really? Besides, she probably is right, at least about that little part of the dreams. The thing is, she’s so interested in using my dreams to play matchmaker that she hasn’t considered something else; if I can use what I’m seeing to (hopefully) help people I know, then don’t I have to use what I’m seeing in the nightmares to do something about them too?
Another thought goes through my mind just now, and it throws me off track. “If I’ve got a power, right? I’m psychic, or whatever you want to call this, right? Well, where’s my wise mentor? In every story I can think of, people who suddenly find they have a special power or something always have one. King Arthur had Merlin. Luke Skywalker had Obi-Wan. The Scottish guy in that stupid movie Ron likes, where they’re all cutting each other’s heads off…”
“Connor MacLeod,” Brian pipes in. “And the movie is ‘Highlander.’”
Beth snorts. “All you guys like that movie. I’ll never understand it.”
“Anyway,” I say, trying to get back on track. “Connor whatever, he had Sean Connery to mentor him, right? So where’s the old wise master to tell me how to deal with all this?” Brian’s amused by the thought, but Beth has a different reaction.
“I’d let Sean Connery tell me what to do,” she sighs. “Anytime.”
So would I, although not that way. He’s old enough to be my grandfather, after all. Besides, I’m taken! And I will definitely have to tell Brian that that was my first thought, once we’re alone of
course. But I definitely wouldn’t say no to Sean Connery’s advice. I bet he’d know exactly what to do about the nightmares.
When we’re all finished with breakfast, we each head our separate ways. Beth has a paper to finish, and Brian’s going to a review session before his calculus final tomorrow. And I agreed to go over Biochemistry notes with Melanie Vondreau, so we’re meeting over at the Student Union for that.
The thing about Melanie is that, and I honestly don’t know why, we’ve always rubbed each other a little bit the wrong way from the first time we met way back at freshman orientation. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though we’re blood enemies or anything. It’s just – I guess I’d call it a cold feeling towards her, which I know is reciprocated in full.
She’s been having trouble in Biochemistry for a few weeks now, and it must be even worse than I thought if she was willing to come and ask me for help. Desperate times and all that, I guess.
Not that she said it that way, of course. I knew what she was asking, though. I started to come up with some excuse to say no, but then I remembered how Julie Paschal was nice enough to help me with physics when she must have had better things to do. It’s only good karma to help someone else in kind, right? Besides, helping her will be a good review for me. So I agreed, and I think she was a little surprised that I did.
We find an empty study room – with a nice big table to spread all our books and notes out – and we get down to work. We start at a little after ten in the morning, and we keep slogging on straight through the afternoon until Melanie finally pronounces herself done at four o’clock in the afternoon.
Amazingly, we actually both manage to act like grown-ups for pretty much the whole time. She makes a couple of snotty remarks the first hour, and I’m snotty right back, but we get past that and we get a heck of a lot done. By the time we’re finished, I’m completely confident, even more than I was before, in the A I’ll be getting on tomorrow’s final. She’s pretty sure – I think she’s right, too – she’ll be able to pull out a B.
