Read Dream a Little Dream Online
Authors: Piers Anthony
Dream a Little Dream
Dream A Little Dream
Piers Anthony and Julie Brady
To the true dreamers and Ligeias
who hang on to life by a thread.
Please don’t give up your dreams.
You may one day find a reason for hanging on.
Nola lay facedown on her bed, staring at the knife in her hand. Its steel blade shone in her face. She had honed its edge every night, for the past year and a half, until she could use it to shave the fuzz from the back of her hand. She knew it would cut her flesh like butter.
Her eyes were filled with stinging tears and her throat still throbbed. This was the second time that John had choked her until she had blacked out.
He had come home four hours late, as usual, and complained that she had not kept his dinner warm. This being their second year as a couple, she had decided to make a special meal for him and decorate the apartment with candles. He had promised to be home on time for her surprise.
Nine o’clock came and went. Nola turned down the oven and sat at the table. She straightened the napkins and blew out the candles. She had hoped that just once he would surprise her by coming home on time and give her a big hug and kiss and say “I love you.” But the only time he kissed her anymore was when they were going to make love.
Nola choked on the thought,
make love.
They never made love anymore. That had stopped the middle of the first year. They didn’t even have sex. To her, it was a chore. Something that had to be done, but not enjoyed. If she didn’t agree to do it, she was forced to, and
that often led to injury and doctor bills—and worse, guilt and anger.
He had loved her once; she was sure of that. Somewhere deep inside, she was always hoping that he would change, that if she loved him enough her love would make him realize that he loved her still.
She had seen this happen to the women on TV. She remembered wondering why these women would stay with abusive men. The women knew that they could be seriously injured or killed, yet they remained. Why?
Now she knew. It was something that just couldn’t be explained. It was like living in a prison that she had built herself, yet leaving the security of the prison meant death. She could never quite bring herself to leave.
Now, she was at a point of despair. It was rare when John came home at all at night. She suspected he was sleeping with someone else, but she could never confront him about it. That would surely cause him to beat her. Again.
She had spent a day at the doctor’s last week, being treated for an infection that she was sure John had given her. She often found pieces of paper in his pockets with girls’ numbers on them.
This night he had come home not just hours late for her surprise; he was drunk and crazy as well. He threw his food on the floor and screamed at her. She told him that she was worried because he had promised to be home on time and he was late. She realized that when she said she was worried, he would take that to mean she was accusing him of cheating.
He got that look. That look of evil that burned into her memory and would remain there forever. He lunged at her, his huge hands grasping her neck. He squeezed tightly, staring at her all the while with angry, dead eyes. She clawed his wrists, unable to draw breath, until she became asphyxiated and passed out. He wouldn’t come home for a week now. She always had to track him down and bring him home. He always told her he ran away because he felt guilty
about hurting her. She knew in her heart that this was a lie. He ran away, hoping that he had succeeded in killing her, and he didn’t want to be found at the scene of her death.
Well, maybe this time she would oblige him. Nola sat up, putting the tip of the knife to her wrist. She pushed down until she felt the pain of slight penetration and dragged the blade across. The cut was not deep and did not bleed much, but she liked to watch it ooze. She squeezed her fist and relaxed, drawing more blood to the cut.
Death fascinated her. She thought constantly about being dead. What bliss it must be! To have no thoughts, to have no pain or heartache. Death would finally let her have the peace she craved so much.
There was only one thing that kept her from cutting deeply. The thing that would often cross her mind when things were at their worst.
If she died, she would lose the one thing in her life that she loved more than anything else: her dreams. Not her ambition-type dreams, but the dreams she experienced when she slept. The wonderful escape from reality, her one tie to sanity and to life. Dead people didn’t dream. She couldn’t quite bring herself to lose those dreams, though she could no longer face life.
It would soon be time to make a decision. Should she continue to try to live, even though all of her attempts to do so were bound to fail, or should she let herself go and lose her dreams forever in the process?
She thought of Esprit. His real name was Spirit, but she affectionately called him Esprit. He was as much a part of her as was her soul.
Esprit
meant “spirit” in Latin, but meant “vivacious” in English, and that pretty much described him.
He was her best friend, a piece of her. A huge black creature, half unicorn, half Pegasus or winged horse. He was all black, except for his green eyes. He loved her and took care of her in her dreams.
When she ‘d have a nightmare about John, Spirit would come flying down from the clouds and come crashing through the window. She’d get on his back and he ‘d fly her away. She ‘d look back and see John’s disappointed and amazed expression. It filled her with longing.
Most times, he’d fly her to a castle, wherein lived her dream man, Michael. Mich was always glad to see her and he ‘d comfort her in his warm embrace. He was the only man she could trust with her love. He loved her more than anything in the world. If she killed herself, the dream, and the love, would die with her.
But that was all just dreams. She knew that things were not that way in life. Though her dreams comforted her in the night, she always awoke to a cruel reality, one of abuse and death wishes.
She was faced with the question again. Live or die? Was it time to cut her losses? She wondered what Esprit would want. She thought he would want her to hang on. If she died, so would he, because there would be no one to dream of him then. But it was more than that. They shared everything best friends would share. He was a part of her. He could read her thoughts, emotions, and her pain as sharply as if they were his own, yet he was stronger than she. He would tell her to cheer up. He ‘d tell her that she had the ability to make her life all that she wished, if she could only discover how.
Nola put the knife aside and went into the bathroom, where she washed the drying blood from her wrist. As she dressed it, she made a decision.
Spirit was right. She had to try; she had to try to do something, to go somewhere. But she was trapped here. She had no other place to go. What could she do? She decided the closest thing to leaving was to take a short vacation. The beach was only a few hours away. She could stay there for a few days. Yes, that would be heaven.
First, she had better go after John.
Nola walked across the street to Chris’s apartment. Chris was John’s marijuana source. They were good friends.
Chris looked at her. “John hasn’t been to see me today.”
That was odd. It didn’t follow the pattern.
She tried to call him at his home. His mother answered. Nola could hear the disapproval in the woman’s voice: she thought Nola was a bad influence on John. She had not heard from him either.
This was downright unusual. She usually found him hiding there. He always felt safest there. Was something wrong, by his twisted definition? No, he must just have found a new hiding place.
Well, she had tried. What more could her conscience ask of her? Her rational mind informed her that she owed John nothing. Too bad she wasn’t rational.
She made a call to a hotel that sat right on the beach and had a wonderful view of the waves. She called the bus station and booked a seat.
She had saved some money, by taking bits of the grocery money that John gave her and hiding it away. She would use that for a bus ticket and a night’s stay at the beach. She riffled through John’s closet looking for the credit card he kept for emergencies. She found it jammed into a coat pocket.
She clutched the card a moment and shivered. John would certainly give her a few more bruises if he found out that she took it. Well, she would just have to make sure he didn’t. Good thing she was always home before him. She could easily intercept and dispose of the credit card statement when it came.
Her cat, Kudo, sauntered into the closet and rubbed against her leg. Nola picked her up and kissed her head. “It would be so nice to
be you!” she said, putting her down again. “What a life. No one to beat you up, no worries about cooking the food just right. You just eat, sleep and be loved.”
She went into the living room and called her friend Lori, asking her to watch Kudo for her. Lori promised she would take good care of her while Nola was away.
Her mother knew nothing of her life and her suicide attempts. Nola preferred never to tell her. It would hurt her too much, and she would never understand why Nola stayed with John.
Nola
didn’t really understand that, either.
After the phone call, Nola climbed into bed, with Kudo nestled at her feet. She fell into the welcome arms of her dreams. She didn’t know that the world she so wished were real was in dire jeopardy.
In another city, Tina stirred, aware of something. It had bothered her at odd moments in the past few days. Not exactly déjà vu, but an urge that wasn’t of the body. There was somewhere she wanted to go, something she wanted to do. Something nice. A friend she wanted to meet, maybe. But she had no idea who, what, or where. Who would want her for a friend, anyway?
Then she saw a car slow, as if its driver was looking for something. There was a prospect. Her fleeting fond awareness faded as she walked toward the car. Another day, another dollar.