Cathedral of Dreams

Copyright 2011 Terry Persun

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ISBN 978-1-935961-20-8

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2011910386

Dedication

For Catherine

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 1

DAY 1

K
eith rolled his head from side to side on the pillow until he awoke from the bad dream. Sweat beaded his upper lip. He ran a hand over his clammy forehead and through his hair. Although he forgot what had happened in the dream as he became fully conscious, a feeling of dread lingered. He had to calm down, but how? He held back tears and tried not to think about what could happen next. He feared the system would recognize his emotional peak. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, then closed his eyes to see if any part of the dream emerged. If he knew what the feeling of dread concerned, perhaps he could shake it. No luck.

After lifting his head from the comfort of his pillow, Keith swung his feet over the side of the bed and let his toes enter the plush softness of the warm carpet. He rubbed his face, pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rolled his neck, sat up straight. He stretched his back until a small snap brought relief from the night's immobility. A sound sleeper, he moved very little throughout most nights.

When he glanced toward the clock it shifted into the next digit and a sweet voice said, “Keith, it is time to awaken.” He stared at the clock a full three minutes until it repeated the message, this time raising its voice as it said his name then dropping back to normal for the remainder of the sentence. He ignored further attempts to recall the dream and continued his morning routine, stretching his arms over his head, twisting his back, and rising to a standing position. The third time the clock sounded its voice was raised for the entire sentence. Keith reached over and flicked the alarm off even though he liked hearing the pleasant voice.

He trudged into the bathroom to relieve himself. Passing the mirror, Keith noticed how he had plumped over the past year. A slightly rounded stomach had appeared where it used to be flat. He knew he should expand his morning exercises beyond stretching while seated on the edge of his bed, but there was little reason to do so. There was no woman in his life to impress. Perhaps if there were he would have more incentive to stay fit.

He reached over and pushed the shower button, then stripped away his pajamas and stepped into water spraying toward him from several directions. Set at the perfect temperature, Keith experienced a familiar relief while standing there.

When the feeling of dread swept over him again, he poked his head out of the shower to see if something in the bathroom was amiss. His own face looked back at him from the mirror over the sink. He smiled at himself and noticed the way his wavy hair fell flat against his head. He had full lips and strong cheekbones. Even his eyes drew you in, he thought. He was handsome enough. Perhaps he needed a girlfriend. Maybe he should put in for one? Again he thought that a woman might provide incentive for him to stay in shape, give him a reason to exercise more often. He was getting used to the idea.

He finished in the shower, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He dressed comfortably for work. The sense of dread had waned, but he knew it would be back. The trick was to hold it at bay, not let it grow too strong. Not allow a dream, which he couldn't remember anyway, to cause the police to show up at his door. That would only perpetuate more dread feelings, which could transfer into more dreams like it had before, months ago. He still didn't recall where the police had taken him or what happened while there. He only remembered waking in his own bed on a Tuesday, just in time to prepare for work.

Breakfast for Keith was a quick cup of coffee and an egg sandwich that made its way from the refrigerator into the microwave and onto a plate without much thought or fanfare. He ate the same, or similar, breakfast every day. Few of the ingredients were changed and the flavors had become comfortable if not tasty.

After placing the dishes into the cleaning receptacle, Keith went to open the door to his apartment when a knock surprised him. He stepped back, “One moment.”

“It's the police,” a man said in a gentle, non-threatening tone.

Keith put a hand over his heart as though to still it. He stepped backward. The door was unlocked. They all were. He couldn't stay the inevitable. When the second polite knock came, he advanced and opened the door.

The officer in front of him looked familiar in the way that a man looks familiar if you met him only once at a gathering. His uniform was stiff and creased in all the right places. His hands were folded in front of him. They were soft hands, which made Keith wonder if he shouldn't put in for a man instead of a woman. The nametag over the officer's breast pocket read, “Hello, my name is Richard.” He had a nice smile, as though he were about to deliver wonderful news. Two officers stood behind him and smiled as well. They were all very pleasant and kind. Very proper.

“May we come in and talk with you for a moment?”

“I was just heading to work.”

The familiar officer, Richard, glanced over his shoulder and one of the other men began typing into his wrist computer. “Taken care of,” Richard said. “You'll receive full credits.”

Keith stepped back and allowed them passage.

“You are feeling something…” Richard paused for a moment to emphasize the next word or to consider exactly which word he would use and then said, “unusual this morning?” A smile plastered across his lips, Richard continued to look into Keith's eyes. He didn't look around the room or glance away for a moment.