asleep and dream
my way into someone’s head?”
Before Remy can answer, there’s a knock at
the door. I let Remy answer it and pay for the pizza and sodas,
examining the map.
Like that’s going to help.
I feel wide awake, and I’m sure the tension I
feel with Remy isn’t going to make sleep come any faster. It is
only seven o’clock or so, but still. What are we going to do until
then?
“This is kind of a shit plan,” I say, once
the delivery guy has gone away and I’ve put away two slices.
“I work with what I’ve got.”
“Really? Come on. We should be out there,
fighting. Guerilla warfare.”
“Julie and Jen–I mean, uh, your mom–and your
aunt–”
“It’s fine, just call them what you want,” I
tell him.
“They aren’t too keen on fighting, in case
you haven’t noticed.”
“Seriously, am I wrong, or did they miss the
whole feminist movement?”
Remy chuckles. I like when he smiles; it
brings a nice warmth to the chiseled features of his face. Makes
him look less like an intimidating, romance novel-worthy god.
“Don’t be too hard on them. Geo has a huge pack. And the Northern
Rockies pack is growing as well, and could be a threat if Geo isn’t
here to keep them away.”
“Two packs fighting over us females…” I
muse.
“Most of the packs fight guerilla style,”
Remy says. “So we’d have to be super guerillas, or something.”
This strikes me as funny and I laugh. The
trouble is that I’d been taking a swig of Diet Coke, and now it’s
fizzing up my nose. I struggle not to barf or burp or have soda
spew from my nostrils, which only makes me laugh more, and then
Remy starts laughing, and minutes pass before we can get ourselves
under control.
After that, we polish off the pizza, find a
stupid movie to watch on TV, and slowly we start our bedtime
routines, which for me involves changing into a pair of fleece
pants and a baggy sweatshirt and brushing my teeth, and for Remy
involves crawling under the covers and taking off his pants. We
shut off the lights as another movie starts, the blue glow of the
television lulling my eyes to half-mast, each of us under the
covers in the centers of our beds. My covers are bunched around my
chin; Remy has his arms beneath his head.
As my blinks last longer and longer, I hear
Remy mumble something about “remember the mission” and “good
luck.”
And then I’m fast asleep.
-19-
When I open my eyes, I’m still in bed.
There’s a blue glow, but the television is silent. I sit up and
startle when I look over to see Remy also sitting up in bed,
looking back at me.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he
says.
The mission. Right.
I get out of bed and pick up the map on the
desk. The swarm of red dots seems even more intimidating here in
this dark dreamworld. I zero in on a nearby place: Brockway.
Brockway. I close my eyes. Brockway.
When I open my eyes I am not in Kansas
anymore.
Or in the hotel room, or anywhere near
civilization.
I’m in a crazy jagged wasteland, high atop a
mountain side. Near the edge. I glance around before backing away.
I know I could fly, this being a dream and all, but I feel much
better not having to think about imminent death.
I’m not sure where the hell I am. This isn’t
someplace real. I don’t think I’ve ever entered a dream that was so
far from reality. Or maybe there is a place on earth like here, but
I haven’t seen it. Purple sky. Fog rising up from below, so I can’t
see any kind of landscape.
Not fog. Smoke.
I know somehow that this is Daniel’s
dreamscape I’m walking. I look for him, he must be here. But all I
see is a narrow path, so I follow it, all the while wondering how
this could possibly by Daniel’s dream. He never dreams of anything
so unreal as this, and whenever I walked into his dreams, he was
always right there. We’re linked, and that always made it easy to
find him. Then again, I never dreamwalked into the dreams of
someone I don’t
my way into someone’s head?”
Before Remy can answer, there’s a knock at
the door. I let Remy answer it and pay for the pizza and sodas,
examining the map.
Like that’s going to help.
I feel wide awake, and I’m sure the tension I
feel with Remy isn’t going to make sleep come any faster. It is
only seven o’clock or so, but still. What are we going to do until
then?
“This is kind of a shit plan,” I say, once
the delivery guy has gone away and I’ve put away two slices.
“I work with what I’ve got.”
“Really? Come on. We should be out there,
fighting. Guerilla warfare.”
“Julie and Jen–I mean, uh, your mom–and your
aunt–”
“It’s fine, just call them what you want,” I
tell him.
“They aren’t too keen on fighting, in case
you haven’t noticed.”
“Seriously, am I wrong, or did they miss the
whole feminist movement?”
Remy chuckles. I like when he smiles; it
brings a nice warmth to the chiseled features of his face. Makes
him look less like an intimidating, romance novel-worthy god.
“Don’t be too hard on them. Geo has a huge pack. And the Northern
Rockies pack is growing as well, and could be a threat if Geo isn’t
here to keep them away.”
“Two packs fighting over us females…” I
muse.
“Most of the packs fight guerilla style,”
Remy says. “So we’d have to be super guerillas, or something.”
This strikes me as funny and I laugh. The
trouble is that I’d been taking a swig of Diet Coke, and now it’s
fizzing up my nose. I struggle not to barf or burp or have soda
spew from my nostrils, which only makes me laugh more, and then
Remy starts laughing, and minutes pass before we can get ourselves
under control.
After that, we polish off the pizza, find a
stupid movie to watch on TV, and slowly we start our bedtime
routines, which for me involves changing into a pair of fleece
pants and a baggy sweatshirt and brushing my teeth, and for Remy
involves crawling under the covers and taking off his pants. We
shut off the lights as another movie starts, the blue glow of the
television lulling my eyes to half-mast, each of us under the
covers in the centers of our beds. My covers are bunched around my
chin; Remy has his arms beneath his head.
As my blinks last longer and longer, I hear
Remy mumble something about “remember the mission” and “good
luck.”
And then I’m fast asleep.
-19-
When I open my eyes, I’m still in bed.
There’s a blue glow, but the television is silent. I sit up and
startle when I look over to see Remy also sitting up in bed,
looking back at me.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he
says.
The mission. Right.
I get out of bed and pick up the map on the
desk. The swarm of red dots seems even more intimidating here in
this dark dreamworld. I zero in on a nearby place: Brockway.
Brockway. I close my eyes. Brockway.
When I open my eyes I am not in Kansas
anymore.
Or in the hotel room, or anywhere near
civilization.
I’m in a crazy jagged wasteland, high atop a
mountain side. Near the edge. I glance around before backing away.
I know I could fly, this being a dream and all, but I feel much
better not having to think about imminent death.
I’m not sure where the hell I am. This isn’t
someplace real. I don’t think I’ve ever entered a dream that was so
far from reality. Or maybe there is a place on earth like here, but
I haven’t seen it. Purple sky. Fog rising up from below, so I can’t
see any kind of landscape.
Not fog. Smoke.
I know somehow that this is Daniel’s
dreamscape I’m walking. I look for him, he must be here. But all I
see is a narrow path, so I follow it, all the while wondering how
this could possibly by Daniel’s dream. He never dreams of anything
so unreal as this, and whenever I walked into his dreams, he was
always right there. We’re linked, and that always made it easy to
find him. Then again, I never dreamwalked into the dreams of
someone I don’t
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