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Gate of Your Dream
By TheBlackFox
"Laughter is free, but it's so hard to be a jester all the time.
No one's believing I'm the same when I'm bleeding, and I hurt all the time deep inside..."
-The Moody Blues
When the first dream was dreamt, the Dream Realm came into being.
It was a peaceful place, flights of fancy dwelt together in harmony.
Until the first nightmare.
Out of the fears and pain of all creatures, the darkness came, and took form, and in time, gained its own ambition. Then at last, it took a name for itself, and that name was Wizeman.
Time passed. As corruption grew in the waking realm, so too did it grow in Wizeman's black heart. He drew on the power of nightmares and made it his own. Out of nightmares themselves he built a mighty fortress, a tribute to his power and named for his own life's blood; Nightmare. And he declared himself Lord of Nightmares, for the darkness bent and submitted to his will. And ever his want for power grew.
Yet, six pure dreams remained, resisting Wizeman well after the elder fantasies began to die away. And so the six dreams were called Nightopia, for they would not be swayed to corruption easily.
And so Wizeman turned his sights to the waking world to aid him, whose sufferings had given him life. If the two realms might be merged, no definition to waking and dreaming, his power would become limitless.
To bring his evil plan to life, the Lord of Nightmares began to steal the dream energies of all waking creatures. And from them he created Minions, the lesser beings of Nightmare, that they might steal Ideya for him, and increase his power further.
Long the Minions slaved for him, and showed him utter loyalty. Yet they were little more than animals; dogs that had been taught to fetch.
Intelligence was needed, for Minions are slow in their doings, and not made for conquest. Thus were the Nightmaren created, intelligent and strong; the greatest of them even possessing free will.
The foremost of these were sons of Nightmare's own blood, and heirs to Wizeman's rulership. And they were named NiGHTS and Reala.
NiGHTS eventually rebelled against his master, for he had grown to love both Nightopia and the dreams of mortal hearts.
The history of NiGHTS' rebellion, long and storied, belongs to another tome.
NiGHTS was at last subdued by his own brother, and imprisoned in an Ideya Palace, that he might never again trouble the Lord of Nightmares.
And so Wizeman grew ever more powerful, and waited for the Red Ideya dreamers.
For without the Red Ideya of Courage, the barrier between dreams and waking could never be broken. It alone of all Ideya must be submitted willfully.
A mortal must open the door...
Thump!
One more bad grade and I have to take you off the team...
THUMP!
I'm sorry...
Thump... Thump...
...hate to lose a good player...
Thump... Thump... Thump...
...North Twin Seeds team is tough...
CRASH!
Sweat dripped off his brow to fall sizzling on the hot pavement. Blue hair lay limp and soaked across his face, his clothes clung uncomfortably wet to the skin. It was scorching, and there was no wind. His friends had gone home long ago.
The basketball came to a stop against his feet; hot from the late afternoon sun and asphalt.
His lungs were burning, his body ached... yet...
It was the only thing that helped get rid of the frustration.
His wrist turned, giving a view of the black, scuffed, and befilthed plastic watch. The face was beginning to crack.
6:35:03PM.
The dreaded phone call from the school would have been made by now. The fireworks, however, would not be over yet.
...thump...
The basketball started to bounce again.
Silently, as a shadow of death creeps upon its prey, the ninja stalked in the darkness.
Ever carefully he moved, cautious as a snake.
A glance.
Nothing either pursuing or ahead... for now.
Slowly he approached his goal. Inch by inch. Step by step.
The scent of natives' dinner still hung in the air; though what unfortunate soul had been on the menu, he did not dare to think. If care was not taken, now more than ever, he might be next...
Slowly he reached for the door, remembering that the lock must be picked skillfully, or he would be caught before the mission was accomplished.
The metal object was hot in his hand, slicked with sweat. His brow furrowed as he turned his head to the task...
...the silence lasted an eternity...
...then...
...the bitter end...
...
"Why hello there, young man!"
He jumped, dropping his apartment key and basketball; all thought of being a ninja destroyed.
The elderly man learned on his cane; weathered old hands clasping the carved oak fox head quite tightly. His eyes, the color of silver birch bark, had a very knowing glint as he peered at him from under snowy white eyebrows.
"You missed the show, Elliot, my boy. Seems your parents got a call from the school today."
Elliot swallowed, hard. "I... I.. Mister Hutchins--!"
"No point making good people like your parents think they've raised a dimwit."
The grip on the cane tightened.
If there was one thing Elliot had learned, it was respect for his elders... and he did not want another lesson. He quickly backstepped and covered his head. "Yessir! Whatever you say, sir...!"
The old man chuckled. "Do your part, study, and ol' Mister Hutchins might be able to help you earn some extra credit this year. I'll have some calls to make tomorrow. I best be getting on though, the lady's ankle is still laid up, she'll be wanting her tea, and miss kitty needs to be fed. And you, I believe, are up way past your bedtime."
"Goodnight, Mister Hutchins, hope Grammy Hutchins gets well soon." Elliot heard a cat meowing. The door shut behind the old man and cut off the sound.
Bleh... bet the old man means I have to work. He grumbled and reached for his fallen key. I hate work...!
"When does your flight get in, darling?"
...
"Delayed again? Oh hun, we need you back though... It's hard taking care of Clarissa on my own. This time she won't even speak to me."
...
"Yes, the same argument."
...
"Alright, darling, I'll tell her. Or try to anyway."
...
"Thanks, hun. Love you, too... Bye."
There was a buzzing signal; the other person had hung up. Reluctantly, her cordless phone followed suit with a soft click. For a moment she clutched it to her chest, wishing with all her soul that her husband was there.
"...Mother always said there'd be days like this..."
The phone clattered on the coffee table and lay forgotten.
She sighed and slumped dramatically into the rich wine colored couch behind her. It was overstuffed, and soft under her fingertips; the very definition of 'plush.' Why wouldn't it be? It would have been considered a small fortune to anyone else...
Carelessly, she threw an equally rich, gold embroidered pillow on the floor and claimed more of the sofa for herself.
It wasn't that she was a bad mother, she understood that much. It was something that happened when kids became teenagers.
She was never quite sure why Clarissa's father had managed to escape the worst of it... while she had to endure stony silence.
Could be worse, the logical part of her mind reasoned.
In all, her daughter wasn't a bad kid. But, the girl was a hopeless dreamer-- just what Stella wanted so desperately to cure her of. That had been at the heart of so many arguments...
She yawned and stretched, realizing suddenly how tired she really was. The phone conversation had been longer than expected.
12:07AM... I won't wake her. It'll keep 'til morning.
...Something...
N...no...
Not yet...
...
Daddy called last night, sweetie. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you, and that he got you a surprise. Unfortunately he's going to be delayed again, something at the last moment with the client. He should be back by the end of the week.
I've also packed some money... If you want to get a nice lunch at the corner shop.
Don't forget you have violin practice after school today, Clarissa.
Love.
Mum.
"Why does she have to call me that?!"
I don't want to speak with her, so she slips a note into my lunchbox. Sneaky, Mom, very sneaky...
The crumpled paper bounced twice against the side of the trash can before going in; the wind was picking up again.
With that out of the way...
Claris tilted her head towards the sky and breathed in deeply; the breeze felt wonderful and the sky was robin egg blue. It was a pleasant day to be eating outside. She spread a small pink cloth on the picnic table before unpacking the rest of her lunchbox.
Lunch was a sandwich of peanutbutter and honey, plus sweet apple slices and cheese for after. Simple food, but wholesome, and welcome after fasting for the first half of the day... and no scary surprises on the menu, she packed her own food the night before.
School food on the other hand... she disliked the stuff on principle, after the first day she had never attempted anything from the cafeteria again. There was something wrong with hamburgers that sported green cheese, and pizzas that had disgusting red grease instead of sauce.
The sandwich shop on the corner was good, but she didn't go very often, it made her look spoiled, and took way too long to walk there and back.
Ah... so there's the money... wonder how she got it so far into the lunchbox... She turned the bill over in her fingers twice, thinking, then stuffed it down into a pocket of her school uniform. There was a convenient charity on the way home.
Her parents had money. Lots of it. But, that didn't mean Claris had to use it for herself-- a twenty was a bit much to cover for lunch anyway...
She bit into her sandwich, savoring the thick, sweet, sticky blend. Bliss...
"Cheese burger... Cheese burger!"
"Man, will you chill? They always have ch--"
"CHEESE BURGER!"
"The school ones are kinda gross though. Oh, hey, there's an empty table over there!" At least it's near a window. The harsh artificial light made his pale skin look like a long term illnes. He noted the other students had a similar hue. It didn't help the burgers either... Shame we can't eat outside.
Elliot flopped onto the stainless steel bench and immediately set to work on his greasy cafeteria food. "I likes me some cheeeeeeeese burgers. Ahw chweeze bewhgerh... Ohehhhwwwwww... bhweefhy..."
"I don't feel so hungry anymore."
"Then can I have your cheese burger?"
"Alright, you can have it, if--" He snatched the burger out of Elliot's eager fingers. "You tell me what job Mister Hutchins got for you."
Elliot sulked at the loss of the burger; he consoled himself with a few potato wedges. "It's lame... a'right? I have to help clean the Twin Seeds Concert Hall, and play errand boy for whatever stuckup princess they get to sing the lead this year."
"I've heard they give tickets to students that join the program. The slots were supposed to be already full!"
"Shh! Keep it down! Everyone will hear you."
"What's the problem? They all already know you're an idiot."
"I kn-- HEY!"
"You're our idiot though. Coach will be glad to hear there's a chance of getting you back before the big game."
"I wish he hadn't canned me today."
"You just had to get that last F in math class."
"You're almost worse than my parents..."
"Heh, I know. You're lucky though." He slicked back his red hair and smiled. "I walked by the tower yesterday, and I saw this girl looking at the audition poster. I swear she looked like she could be related t--"
"You promised me that burger!"
"Take it already." He cringed as Elliot inhaled the unholy glob of gristle and fat.
The day had been boring and frustrating. Violin lesson, then another fight with her mother on the virtues of being a violinist.
More than anything, she wanted to become a singer.
Claris twirled in her red nightgown, hairbrush in hand to serve as a makeshift microphone; she was doing a bold rendition of a song she had fallen in love with. It helped to lighten her mood.
September the twenty-ninth they would start auditions for the Twin Dreams musical, and she had every intention of being there.
The show this year promised to be the biggest and best yet, in honor of the hundredth anniversary of Twin Seeds. There were even rumors that it might be televised.
If she could get a part in that, she could go anywhere.
Her voice faded to the end of the music, and with it the magic faded too. The microphone returned to being a brush.
The CD player and lights went off for the night.
Just a few more days... her mind said sleepily as she crawled into bed. The checkered quilt was soft and comforting.
Her head hit the pillow and she was gone.
