1 The Dream Rider (3 page)

“Who are you?
 
What do you want with me?” I demanded.

His eyes scanned me as they would a strange animal he’d
never seen before. I risked another quick glance back at the street below. It
was still empty. I didn’t know which was more terrifying, the possibility of
falling or the apparition before me.

He shook his head slowly, peering into my eyes with his
black orbs. Without warning, he jumped into the air in what seemed like slow
motion and rose high above the ground. Lightning cracked again through the sky
behind him. Suddenly, everything sped up and he thrust a black boot into my
chest. The blow sent a sharp pain through my ribcage. The force was like a
wrecking ball and I sailed over the edge. I saw him land on the lip of the roof
as I tumbled through the air toward the sidewalk.

Falling is a horrific sensation. It’s something I’d always
feared, and with good reason. The air blowing against my back was cold as I
fell through it. Windows in the building rushed by with a swooshing sound that
continued to speed up the farther I fell. The worst part about falling is the
anticipation. Every second you think you’re going to stop and hit the ground,
but you just keep going. The last thought I had before I felt the sudden,
jarring, crunch of my body against the concrete was of the strange girl I’d met
at the party. Then everything went black the instant a quick pain shot through
ever inch of my body.

The sound of my own voice screaming woke me up. Well, I
think it woke me up. It may well have been the sensation that my body was
smacking against the sidewalk.

I looked around, relieved to find I was in my bed. Another
nightmare. The realization wasn’t exactly comforting; I continued to pant for
air. The clock on my nightstand began to sound, causing me to almost jump out
of my sheets. It read 7:15. It was Saturday morning, and I’d obviously
forgotten to turn off the alarm. I tried to slow my breath in an attempt to
calm myself down. But my heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Sweat rolled
down the side of my face. They were the same symptoms I had experienced when I
awoke from the previous dream.

I shook my head slowly and rubbed my eyes.
What was going
on?
As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I felt a horrible pain
shoot across my entire back. It seemed to start from my shoulder blades. I
slid, carefully, out of the bed and slinked into the bathroom. When I turned to
look at in the mirror, I saw something that both terrified and confused me. A
huge bruise spread out across my skin from one shoulder to the other. I gaped
at the sight, not sure how it happened.

I began to formulate a theory that involved me rolling off
of the bed in the middle of the night and landing on the floor. I must have
gotten up in my sleep without ever realizing I had fallen or that I’d picked
myself up. There were all kinds of stories about people who had done crazy
things in their sleep.
Tales of sleepwalkers who had some
pretty unbelievable occurrences.
That had to be it. I nodded at myself
in the mirror somewhat convinced that was what had happened. Falling off the
bed in my sleep would have also explained the dream of falling off a building.
I’d heard that dreams only happened in a few seconds but, inside them, they
seemed like hours. That had to be the explanation. Vaguely satisfied with the
answer, I hopped in the shower.

The weekend went by without much fanfare. I swung by my
parents for lunch Saturday afternoon and faced the usual line of
questioning:
 
how was school, how
was work, how were things going with the ladies? My mother was always the one
asking the latter. I enjoyed spending time with them, but after a few hours I
remembered why I was a little glad to spend a year in the dorm. I had a sense
of independence for the first time in my life, which was a good thing. Still,
they were family and I loved them.

“How’s your football team looking?” Dad asked while he sat
down on the brown leather couch and crossed his legs.

My dad was in his mid-fifties and had always taken a keen
interest in everything I did regarding sports. In his mind, I was better than I
knew myself to be. He’s spent thousands of hours working with me, teaching me
how to kick a soccer ball, hit a baseball, catch a football, and shoot a
basketball. Now he always wanted to know how the fruits of his labor were
doing.

“It’s good,” I decided not to let him know about the
dropped pass. “We have a good team. It’s fun playing with Nate.”

He seemed to accept the answer. “That’s good. Remember,
that’s more important than winning. If you’re not enjoying it then
it’s
just work.”

My mom listened eagerly from the kitchen as she finished
preparing the afternoon meal. She had always been a closet sports fan. Being
from Texas, football was king in her mind. The other sports were just details.

“How many touchdowns have you scored this year?” she
asked, smiling.

“Seven,” I shrugged. “Not too bad.”
 

“Finn, that’s great!” she beamed. Sometimes I thought they
cared about it more than I did. It was fun, but the competitive side of me had
faded away when I realized I couldn’t run fast or jump high.

The after-lunch conversation was more stuff about classes
and things I was working on. Dad talked about some of the stuff he’d been doing
at his job. I listened politely but the whole time my mind was elsewhere. The
strange girl from the party stayed at the forefront of my thoughts.

After lunch, I said my goodbyes to the family. Mom and dad
always wanted me to stay longer. I felt like I should but at the same time
really wanted to get back to the dorm and try to catch up on some rest. I
hadn’t slept well for too many days in a row and it was starting to catch up to
me. Maybe an afternoon nap would fix that.

By the time my head hit the pillow I was exhausted. The
lack of sleep was overwhelming. As tired as I was, all I could do was toss and
turn in my bed. The threat of the nightmares loomed over me like an ominous
cloud. After thirty minutes of unsuccessful attempts at getting some rest, I
got up and went for a walk around the campus. Most of the other students were
in their dorms or out in the city for the weekend; the place was a ghost town.

Saturday night was boring. I still hadn’t heard from Nate
and wondered if he was mad at me for leaving him at the party. Part of me
didn’t care. After all, he’d left me first. When I hadn’t heard from him or
anyone else I decided to download a few movies from iTunes and hang out in the
dorm the rest of the evening.
What an amazing life
, I thought sarcastically.

At some point during the night, I must have crawled into
bed because when I opened my eyes it was Sunday morning. I was relieved to have
not experienced another nightmare, and as I jumped in the shower, I began to
feel a little better about things.
Maybe the torment was over.

I spent most of Sunday in my dorm room, reading and
playing video games. The reading was research on the subject of dreams. While I
was glad I hadn’t had another nightmare the previous evening, something still
tugged at my brain.

When I woke up on Monday, I was happy to realize I hadn’t
had another nightmare.
Two nights in a row.
I hoped they would
never come back. Still, I was fascinated by the occurrences and couldn’t seem
to let go.

Later that morning, I sat uneasily in a gray, firmly
cushioned chair that I was fairly certain had been in Dr. Edert’s office for
twenty years. The short, bald man was finishing up a phone call when I’d arrived
and he’d motioned me to have a seat.

His white button up shirt and plain blue tie were his
signature style. I figured he probably had a tie just like that in a plethora
of colors. He was one of the more experienced Psychology professors at my university
and had quickly become my favorite. His experience covered a broad spectrum of
the science but one particular area of expertise interested me that day:
 
Dream theory.

Even though I had finally gotten some sleep over the
course of the last few nights I was tired, and my eyes were heavy. The nights
of fitful slumber had taken a toll. My body had been sore over the weekend, and
it wasn’t from football. It was almost like the events in the dreams had caused
the injuries. A strange thought kept recurring in my head; the events of my
dream had actually happened. I shook my head at the thought.
That’s
impossible.

Finally, the professor hung up the phone and swiveled back
around in his chair to face me with his beady eyes and big, sideways grin.
“What can I do for you, Finn?” he asked, cheerfully. His voice always seemed
cheerful and matched the relaxed and happy demeanor that the man’s face
constantly presented. Even when he’d looked serious in the past, it was as if a
smile was trying to escape from somewhere within. His wide 1980s style glasses
just seemed to fit perfectly with the man’s persona.

“I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me for a few
minutes, Dr. Edert.”
 
I really was
grateful at his seemingly constant availability. I supposed that was one of the
perks of attending a smaller college. Professors were more willing to meet with
individuals than if they had been in larger universities.

“This is going to sound a little crazy,” I began.

He cut me off and lifted dismissive hands. “Finn, I’m a
psychologist, crazy is good for business.”
 
He smiled and winked as he said it. Then he laughed a
little, which put me more at ease.

I nodded and continued. “Dr. Edert, what do you know about
dreams?”

“You mean like dream interpretation?” he asked and leaned forward
a bit in his chair.

“Sort of, yeah.”

He looked thoughtful for a few seconds, reading my face
and processing the question. Then he leaned back in his chair and put his hands
on the top of his head while he spoke. “Well, there are a lot of theories, Finn,
but I’ve never come across something that I felt like was a definite, 100
percent correct answer. It’s a really subjective topic. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that,” I thought for a second before I
continued. I assured myself I was in a safe place, that he wouldn’t ridicule
me. “It’s just that I’ve had these nightmares lately.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked interested. “Ah,
nightmares. There are all kinds of reasons those can happen. One of the most
popular theories is they result from unresolved issues in your past. That’s
usually what dreams are about, and until you deal with them in reality you will
have to deal with them forever. It could also be an unresolved issue in your
current life. At least that’s one mainstream theory.”

I had assumed he would say something along those lines. In
psychology, it seemed like that was the answer to a lot of problems. His
comment did make me think, though. The more I considered the idea of solving
unresolved issues, the more hopeful I became. “So, if I can figure out what
these issues are and work them out, the nightmares should go away. Right?”

Professor Edert nodded. “That’s one theory.”

I stood up to leave. It sounded like a good enough theory,
and it was an answer I was comfortable with. I figured I just had to figure out
was what sorts of issues were bothering me from my past. “Thanks Dr. Edert,” I
said as I stepped towards the door.

His smile beamed at me from across the room. “Stop by
again any time, Finn.”

I went to my morning classes, American Literature and
Chemistry. Both were courses I actually enjoyed. But it was hard to keep my
mind on what the professors were saying. All I could think about was the two
nightmares I’d had. The only thing that distracted me from my bad dreams was a
text from Nate asking me to meet him in the student center for lunch. So, when
class dismissed, I made my way down the promenade from the science building
amid the stream of students scurrying to get to their next classes or to lunch.

It had become very cold, especially for that time of year.
A quick look at the weather app on my smart phone told me that the temperature
was only forty-five degrees. There was even a chance of snow that night. I
didn’t find that likely. We hardly ever got snow, usually just really cold
rain. The sky was covered with rolling, gray clouds as I strolled through the
campus.

I passed through the doors of the student center and made
my way into the eatery. The place was a huge ballroom, complete with two
chandeliers hanging at each end. I thought it curious that a university
cafeteria would be made to look like that. There were fancy carpets on the
floor and faux candle sconces along the walls. The only things that didn’t go
with the interior were the tables. They looked like they’d been purchased from
a wholesaler, featuring Formica tops and brown metal legs.
Quite
a contrast to the rest of the enormous room.

I saw Nate sitting at one of the smaller tables near a
window and waved to him to let him know I’d arrived. After getting a plate of
spaghetti from the food line, I walked over and sat down, sliding my plate on
the smooth surface.

He looked up with eyes that had huge bags under them.
“What happened to you at the party?” he asked. “I had to get a ride back to the
dorm with Kendall.”

“I’m sorry, man. I had to get out of there. I was just
bored,” I told him. He waved a dismissive hand, letting me know he wasn’t mad
about it. I pondered telling him about the strange experience with the brown
haired girl but decided to feel him out first—find out what he knew. “Did
you meet anyone at the party?”

He thought about it while he forked a wad of spaghetti
into his mouth. I played with mine, watching his reaction. He looked up at the
ceiling then back at me. “I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “Why?
Did you?”

I quickly shook my head. “No. I was just curious. There
were a lot of people there.”
 
I
changed the subject quickly with a relevant segue.

“Yeah,” he answered, twirling his fork in the pasta. “I
heard people from like four different colleges were there at that party. And
probably a few high schools too.”
 
He took another bite then asked, “What time did you leave?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Around midnight, I guess. Maybe
a little after.”
 
He acknowledged
my account with a nod. “You look like crap,” I laughed at him. “Were you hung
over the whole weekend?

He laughed too and nodded. “Something
like
that.”
 

We didn’t say much the rest of the meal, save for a little
bit about intramural football and a few class assignments. Nate finished his food
first and headed off to his next class. I sat there alone, my mind lingering on
who the strange girl was from the party Friday night.