Wake the Dream - Book One
Page 5
her voice shaking the ceiling and waking the neighbor’s old dog Tilly up from her spot on the back lawn.
For today’s little stunt, Lane has been suspended from school for the next three days and is not to leave the house even if it’s on fire. Lane’s mom has to work and her father’s new wife is in labor right now with her soon to be step-brother. No one will be watching her.
She’s sent to bed without dinner, which is ok by Lane since she ate three large chocolate chip brownies and drank five cups of hot chocolate with mounds and mounds of whipped cream and a mountain of white and dark chocolate shavings.
Lane waits and waits for her mom to come upstairs to bed; pacing back and forth in her room; giddy with excitement, counting to sixty so many times in her head she can’t even remember how many times. But nothing… Irked, Lane plops down on the floor, ducks down under the bed, rummaging around the toys and clothing she hid – the pink poke-a-dot shirt she refuses to wear and the too big hoodie her aunt Bee bought her for her eighth birthday.
There, behind the bright neon pink swirled bowling ball and her TKD black belt, is a small brown shoe box. Unearthing it from the depths of the land under her bed, she pulls it out, places it in her lap and slides back the lid; unwraps the tissue paper like someone peels off an onion layer, revealing Tommy’s old Gameboy, the one he got when he turned five.
The screen is broken in the center from when Lane accidentally dropped it when they were having a fight over it. She had wanted to play some stupid girl game and he wanted to play a fantasy one with fighting ogres and battling pixies. After that, he’d left it on her bed and wouldn’t talk to her for a week; begging for her friendship after seven days. He pleaded on the playground at recess, promising that he would never be mad at her again; not ever.
This very special shoe box contains the ONLY things Lane has left of Tommy. He’d hugged her once and said goodbye.
Lane drops the toy back in the box and shoves it back under the bed; a tear rolling down her face. No more Tommy; no best friend; same old boring life.
A half an hour later, Lane’s mom finally goes to bed. Two minutes after that, Lane sneaks down stairs; hugging the banister, sliding down on her butt; landing hard on her back when she falls off. She has to tiptoe around Bilbo, the cat, sleeping on a discarded wash towel dead center on the tile floor. The pile of dishes is still in the sink.
Lane finds Night knee high in cobwebs, dusting out the left corner of the basement right next to the fifty year old furnace and antique arcade game that Lane’s dad bought at a game store just before it went out of business. He’d bought it back when Lane was four; just before they moved out of the City.
She’s surprised to see that Night has strung up the Halloween bat lights and that they’re plugged in. Lane didn’t even know there was an outlet down here. But that’s not the only renovation he’s made over the last hour and forty-five minutes.
The old rocking horse, with its broken rocker and missing saddle, has been placed next to the dollhouse with a pile of sheets resting on its back. The white sheets are now once again white and not an off shade of yellow. The pile has been neatly folded and pressed. The old brown leather couch that was her father’s, now has a clean knitted quilt strewn across it, accompanied by a row of pillows she hasn’t seen since she was super little. They must have come from the baby bed that’s buried down here in the land of the broken and forgotten.
An old lime green pop tent with brown window shades and black netting has been erected right next to the furnace; a hint of an old pink baby blanket sticking out of the door. There’s a strange eerie glow inside.
“What have you done to the basement?” Lane whispers softly as not to wake up her mom.
Night shrugs, plucking a cobweb from its spot on the wall. “Perfecting it? It’s pretty dirty down here but it’s like the best place to live!” His excitement is not catching because Lane looks at him very confused; scrunching her nose. “I’m your pet remember?” He snickers. “I need a good dog house. Might as well be your basement; not like anyone else in this house is using it. I’m leaving it disorganized enough that your mom will never know if she ACTUALLY comes down here sometime. Which she NEVER does; the last time she ALMOST came down those stairs, she stopped half way and threw that toaster clear across the basement. She hates this place. It reminds her of your dad.”
“How do you know..?”
Night covers Lane’s mouth again. “Doesn’t matter… Ready to go exploring again..? Even your cat is asleep. I’m excited. It’s been awhile since I visited a cat’s dream.”
“Can we do that? Can we visit my cat’s dream?” Lane hops up and down, excitedly.
“Yes, we can but I never know whose mind I’m invading when I do it; I just do it. I’m not that good at it; I don’t practice enough.”
Lane looks at him cross eyed. “Who and what are you?”
“If you don’t know the answer to that then I can’t tell you. I mean, I can’t just tell you these things; there are rules you know. And I’m breaking like a hundred of them like right now. So just come on and don’t ask questions.” Without waiting for permission, Night takes Lane’s hand and pulls her inside of the tent where an old battery operated storm light is on. “Now,” Night plops down, dragging Lane down with him. They land across from each other, “I want you to close your eyes and let me do the rest. Ready,” He squeezes her hand; she closes her eyes, “Let’s go.”
Birthday Cake
“It’s gooey!” Lane shrieks, opening up her eyes so quick her head spins; she’s sees purples and pinks and yellows all smashed together like a slug under her sneaker.
“That’s because we’ve landed in a birthday cake with sprinkles. Want one?” Night heaves at a gigantic, super fat, light yellow log, pulling it over. He slides it to her. “It’s really sugary; try it.”
Tentatively, she nips at it, getting a sugar rush; feeling like Halloween and she just ate three bags full of chocolate bars and Jolly Ranchers. Night happily munches away at his end, sawing it down to the size of a baseball bat.
Wiggling free of the vanilla buttercream frosting, Night shakes the goop off his shirt and jeans, picking up his bat. He tries to offer Lane a hand but she growls and tries to get free all by herself.
She ends of needing Night’s help; he digs her out with the baseball bat.
“So,” Night sighs, averting his eyes, ignoring Lane’s face, “I sort of LOST something really important in someone’s memory, someone from this town, and I need to get it back. I CAN’T go home without it; it’s why I ran away. I need your help. I’m in your memories all the time; ALL the time.” He shrugs, helping her over a lit birthday candle. They avoid the scary flame with a dragon with five horns on its head and purple wings inside. “I sort of,” He breathes in and holds his breath. “No, never mind. I guess I’ll tell you that one later.” Downtrodden, he pretends to ignore her gaze.
“When later..?” She questions.
“Much, MUCH later… Maybe never: I haven’t decided yet. Just drop it!” Night leads her through an archway made up of gigantic plastic forks with super-sized red cherries sitting on top.
“WHAT are you doing here?” A very unhappy voice sounds behind them.
Before Lane can look around, the boy attached to the voice steps out in front of them. A boy with orange-red nappy hair wearing a nondescript shirt and a pair of plain jeans with red Keds stares at Night with one blue and an overly strange eye. The strange eye is the color of a rainbow, bending and shifting, swirling and turning; moving like a fish caught in a too small bowl. He looks like Night’s clone, accept for the weird eye.
He folds his arms around a glass jar of peaches. “And where is your gift? She’ll be mad if you forgot it!”
Night rubs his eye, touches the surface and pulls at the side; peeling off a perfectly made contact that looks exactly like a regular eye. “I did NOT forget.” Shoving a hand all the way
into his left back pocket, he rummages around in it – loud noises come from deep side, like something huge just fell over. Night triumphantly pulls out a large black and white cookie. The one he bought at the Café just before he and Lane left. “Why are you here Corbin?”
“I’m looking for you!” Night’s carbon copy grumbles; Corbin is not pleased. “You weren’t at home so I tracked your scent to this town; I knew you would be in someone’s dream tonight. Do you have any idea how many memories I had to search through before I found you? I just visited the dream of a squirrel. Gigantic peanuts kept on falling on me; I got trapped under a walnut; had to EAT my way out. And I hate nuts! You owe me, Night!”
“I OWE you nothing!” Night’s a little put off. “You followed me here. I don’t remember asking you to.”
“And why is she here?” Corbin stabs Lane in the chest. “She’s NOT the dreamer.”
“She’s the ‘she’.” Night pouts; Lane looks confused.
“Oh,” Corbin’s mood changes; lightening, his temper melting away into the gooey frosting built up like snow banks on either side of them. “So she’s the ‘she’ and you gave her some of your blood… oh, ok, sorry I snapped. But I’m still not leaving you here by yourself.”
“Fine,” Night snickers, licking Lane’s cheek, “You can come stay in Lane’s