Dream Makers: Dream Of Me Part 2

"Tell me more about this dream," Glory said as she sat across from Serenity in one of the booths at the fire pit. She had called early that morning, demanding to have breakfast because she wanted to know more about the whole Sandman thing. Serenity hadn't meant to spill the beans, but her mind had been dwelling on it so much that it had just come pouring out of her. And she probably needed to talk with someone about it other than an eight-year-old girl who was actually in the dream. So she had forced herself from the warmth of her bed and met Glory before time for school. The only bonus was that she got an awesome breakfast out of the deal.

"I already told you the entire thing the other night," Serenity said. "I think I dreamed it because even though I want to leave this little town, I'm also scared to venture out into the wide world, and I must subconsciously be trying to find an excuse to stay."

"What about this Dair character? What's he all about?" Glory asked, ignoring what she had just said.

Serenity rolled her eyes and set her fork down on her plate. It was obvious that Glory wasn't going to give up. "The girl, Emma, said he is the basis of the myth about the Sandman," Serenity explained again to Glory everything the girl had said about Dair.

"He sounds mysterious," her best friend crooned.

"Give me a break, Glory. For all we know he's a short, fat, bald man like in the movie The Rise of the Guardians."

Glory shook her head. "No, I'm not getting that vibe from your story. This guy sounds powerful in an I'm so hot I scorch the ground when I walk sort-of way."

Serenity choked on the drink of orange juice she had been taking. "Sometimes, you really worry me, Glory Day."

"You're the one having dreams supposedly sent by a mythical being that have to be explained to you by an eight year old genius."

"Good point," Serenity conceded. She glanced down at her phone and noticed that she had fifteen minutes to get to cla.s.s. "I've got to go now, so you'll have to table any other questions you have."

Glory stood up with her and walked her to the door. "Do not worry. I will be sure to make a list."

Serenity shook her head with a small laugh. "You do that," she told her as she headed out to her car.

The muttering of words coming from Serenity's second period cla.s.s caught her attention as she neared the door. It wasn't just the voices that had grabbed her attention, it was the subject matter. She had distinctly heard the word Sandman spoken by several different cla.s.smates. Her breath grew heavy in her chest as she entered her history cla.s.s and read the notes on the board.

Topic for Friday, December 13, 2014. Central and Northern Europe folklore. Who was the Sandman, really? What are the origins of the myth?

Serenity was pretty sure her stomach no longer resided in her abdomen, but had somehow relocated itself somewhere in the vicinity of her feet. Meanwhile her heart had decided to take a trip up to her throat. Her mind was reeling. This could not be a coincidence. But how on earth could it be related to her dream? She stood dumbfounded with Emma's words echoing in her mind. Yep, he's as real as me. But he isn't human.

"Ms. Tillman are you planning on joining us today?" Mr. Sweeney's voice pulled her back from her slight panic attack.

"Oh. . .um. . .yes, sorry, I'll just." She pointed in the direction of her chair while heading that way. As she took her seat and looked up to the front of the room, she tried to calm her jittery nerves so she could listenreally listen to what Mr. Sweeney was about to teach. If it was only about the folklore that had always been told, regarding the Sandman giving children good dreams, then she was going to blow it off as coincidence. But if there was any information remotely different, then she would consider the possibility that this, DairEmma had spoken ofmight actually be real. And maybe he could control things. What else could explain the change of subject matter-they were supposed to be studying The Black Plague this week.

"I know that the topic for today might seem a little off the wall," Mr. Sweeney began. "But I've learned through the years that when I get inspiration to teach something, then I should follow through. I woke up this morning after having a vivid dream last night, and the Sandman was a part of it. It made me curious to learn how this mythical figure came about and to see if there were any factual underpinnings to the story, much like with St. Nicholas and his relations.h.i.+p to Santa Clause. I did some quick research in the library this morning and found some interesting things." He sifted through a pile of books that were on his desk and finally chose one that was filled with sticky notes protruding from the pages. He flipped to a certain page and ran his finger down the page until he found what he was looking for. "Okay, here we are. Listen to this."

Serenity listened as Mr. Sweeny recited the legend that she, and everyone else, already knew. The Sandman sprinkled dust over children while they slept and gave them pleasant dreamsblah, blah, blah. No new information there, she thought. But then Mr. Sweeny paused as if gathering himself and said the magic word: BUT. That three letter word often was the catalyst into a change in direction of the information. Desperate for more information, she leaned forward in her desk as she focused on her history teacher.

"But, that is not the only published information we have about the Sandman. After much digging, I actually came across another story about him in a very, very old book. It actually seems strange that our library would have such a treasure, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. This book is a study on ancient texts written between the third and fifth centuries. Most of it was written by a tribe of people from Persia that studied the mystical and spiritual happenings in the world at that time. They took note of everything and anything they heard that seemed unnatural. They were so opened minded that they even listened when children spoke of things that couldn't be explained by anything other than the supernatural. They studied the supernatural, no matter the form-Jewish G.o.d, Greek G.o.ds, Egyptian G.o.ds, it didn't matter. This tribe recorded it all. Since they did not practice any particular form of wors.h.i.+p, they simply were spectating, observing things that many chose to ignore. I'm going to read a particular entry from during their travels near Syria. We have had several accounts from the children in this region. They say no one will believe them, but their stories are remarkably similar, despite the fact that the children all live miles and miles apart and would have no way to collaborate their stories. They each speak of a man who has come to them in the night after everyone else in the house is sleeping. Each child reports being awake when they meet this man. He calls himself the dream weaver. The children are not scared of him. Each of them says that the man told them that he was there to guide them to their fate. He told each of them that they were special and that not every child got to meet him. He said he only comes to those who would change the course of history. My companions and I have decided to test the story. We have written down the name of one of the children and, should we live long enough to see her grow into adulthood, we will see if she does indeed play such a vital role in the world. It might not give irrefutable evidence of this dream weaver's existence, but it would certainly give his apologists a strong argument. The name is as follows: Julia Aurelia Zen.o.bia.

"It is noted several pages later that Julia Aurelia Zen.o.bia became the Queen of the Palmyrene Empire," Mr. Sweeny continued. "She led a famous revolt against the Roman Empire that prevented them from taking Palmyrene as part of their conquests. So it was apparent that this Julia truly was important in history.

Now, I ask you," he questioned, his eyes roaming the cla.s.sroom, "Does that mean the Sandman, or Dream Weaver as he's apparently sometimes called, really exists? Perhaps, or perhaps not." Mr. Sweeney closed the book and held it in his lap as he took a seat on the end of his desk. "This is a great lesson in digging deeper. Oftentimes in history we have a tendency to accept secondhand accounts at face value, instead of seeking out the source. So though he wasn't called the Sandman during that time, it is obvious that these children were describing the same mythical figure the Europeans later spoke of."

Serenity was pretty sure that her jaw had gotten lower and lower as she listened to the story about the legend of the Sandman aka the Dream Weaver. It couldn't be a coincidence. Regardless, she knew one thing for sure, this s.h.i.+z just got real.

Her feet moved on autopilot as she went about her duties at the vet clinic. She hardly spoke to Jackson, not that he noticed since he was constantly avoiding her. She had never wanted the day to be over as bad as she did that day. After the information vomit Mr. Sweeney had unknowingly dropped in her lap, she had decided it was time to confront this so called Sandman. If he was the one behind her dream, then, from what she understood, he would have to be there in her room with her. She s.h.i.+vered at the thought of someone watching her sleep. Trying to control her through her dreams was creepy enough, but if he was watching her drool, while she slept, well that was on a whole other level. By the time she left the clinic, she was so keyed up she felt like she had just drank ten sodas and chased them with energy drinks.

"Get it together, Sarah," she told herself as she pulled into her aunt and uncle's driveway. The first thing she noticed was that Wayne still hadn't returned from his hunting expedition. At least that was one less person she had to convince that she was okay. She imagined Darla would have a few concerns if Serenity continued to s.h.i.+ft from foot to foot like a three-year-old needing to pee. She took several deep breaths before finally going inside.

"Hey, honey," Darla greeted as she looked up from the book she was reading. "How was your day?"

Play it cool, she told herself. "It was good," she nodded and then realized that her head was moving entirely too fast. She snapped it to a stop and then smiled at her aunt. She was pretty sure it was one of those wide smiles that made her look like she'd had her face lifted just a little too tightly. "I'm just going to, that is, I'm pretty tired so, busy day." She stumbled over her words because she was just so cool under pressure. She pointed in the direction of her room. "I'm going to lie down." There, I made sense, surely she can't be suspicious of me now.

"Are you sure everything is alright?" Darla's eyes zeroed in on her.

Well c.r.a.p, Serenity growled at herself. "Yes, I'm just a little scattered because I've got a lot of homework and I'm worn out."

Darla watched her for a minute longer, making Serenity feel like she was some newly discovered bug under a microscope. She finally decided that Serenity was telling the truth. "Okay, then you better get on it. I'll bring dinner in to you in about an hour."

"Thanks, Aunt Darla," she called back, already moving before the 'okay' left her aunt's mouth.

Serenity closed her bedroom door and threw her backpack onto her bed as she let out a relieved sigh. Her cat climbed out from under her bed and let out a big yawn as he looked up at her. "Looks like you had a rough day," Serenity said dryly as she watched Mr. Whitherby wind himself in and out of her legs. Unable to focus on showing him the attention he usually demanded, she grabbed the notebook that contained her thoughts from the past week and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pen lying next to it. She wanted to get down everything she had learned in her history cla.s.s. It was the first bit of possibly factual information she had on this Dair being, and she wanted to confront him about it, if he was indeed real and if he'd show himself to her. She shook her head and squeezed her eyes tightly closed. "I'm going crazy. There is no other explanation for planning a conversation with an immortal being only known from folklore."

After having written everything she could remember from cla.s.s, she set the notebook down, pushed her backpack from the bed, and laid down. Who knew doing research could be so exhausting? Serenity didn't intend to go to sleep; she just wanted to rest her eyes for a few minutes. How many times had those been famous last words.

Sometime later she woke to a dark room. She didn't remember turning off the light but then her aunt could have done it. There was something strange about the darkness that surrounded her. Like a blanket being wrapped around her shoulders, the darkness seemed to envelop her. She pushed herself up until she was sitting and blinked several times, attempting to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of light, but it was no use. She was about to stand up when a chill ran down her back. It was one of those feelings she got when she knew someone was staring at her, even though she couldn't see them. Serenity licked her lips nervously and swallowed down the lump that had developed in her throat before she spoke.

"Sandman." The word came out much more desperately than she had intended. It almost sounded as if she were calling out to a lover. She swallowed again and then said more firmly. "If you're there, please answer me. I sort of feel like an idiot talking into the dark." Her words were met with silence, but still she felt the presence of something or someone. Good thing she wasn't easily dissuaded. Unless of course she was indeed talking to an empty room, then perhaps it was less of a good thing and more of a need to get your brain checked out thing. "Please answer me, Brudair; are you here?"

"Yes." A deep, rich voice threatened to lull her to sleep with one tiny word. She shook herself, pus.h.i.+ng away the drowsiness.

"Can I see you?" she asked and felt her heart beat speed up at the prospect of finally seeing the object of her obsession for the past few days.

"I haven't decided if that is a good idea or not."

Okay, so perhaps she didn't need to ask him any more questions because his voice was doing tingly things to her. Not okay, Sarah, not okay, she silently reprimanded herself. "Why are you still here if you've already shown me the dream meant to influence me?"

No answer.

"Why haven't you moved on to someone else?"

Again no answer.

Getting frustrated, Serenity ground her teeth together as she spoke. "Why are you here?" Perhaps, that came out a little more rudely than she intended, but she wanted answers.

The deep voice finally rumbled "I am here because I want you."

Whoa, did not see that coming.

Chapter 3.

"To see the moon in your dreams means you will soon be confronted with an unstoppable force, object, or personality that will have an immediate and irresistible pull on your life."

Dair had not meant to be so blunt with her. He knew that his words had come through in a near growl because of how possessive he felt towards her, and he imagined that she was probably terrified of him. He had followed her, as usual, all day, and several times he caught her talking to herself about how she was going to confront him and ask him to reveal himself to her. All day he had thought about what he would do once the sun finally set and the moon took over. Up until the moment she had spoken his name, his true name, Brudair, he hadn't known if he would answer her. But then she had said his name. Hearing it in her angelic voice caused his stomach to tighten and his hands to twitch with the need to hold her. Silence permeated the room as he waited to see how she would respond to his declaration. He was expecting her to tell him to leave and never come back, but, as usual, Serenity surprised him.

"I'm not really sure what that means," she admitted. "Is this like a want like a man wants a woman or is this like a want because I'm a s.h.i.+ny new toy?"

Dair thought about how to answer her. She was indeed s.h.i.+ny and new, but not in the way she was implying. She was those things because of her differences from the rest of the world. To him, she s.h.i.+ned like the brightest beacon in a world of muted greys. And though those things are what drew him to her, they weren't the only reason he wanted her.

"You are new to me, but not for the reasons you believe. I have been around for a very long time, Serenity. I have come across all sorts of people in all walks of life. I've seen the good in them, and the bad. In all that time, I have never come across a human that drew me the way you do. Your selflessness is a breath of fresh air. You listen to people and not just listen but you hear them and you care about what they have to say. You're so good, so pure, and unjaded. Even though tragedy has touched your life, you have not let it rule you." He paused then, thinking of how he should tell her about his other wants without coming across like some strange pervert. She was quiet and though she could not see him, he could see her just fine. He was, after all, the dream weaver and the night was his domain. Her eyes were wide and her plump lips were pressed firmly together as though she was trying not to blurt something out.

"As for the first want you mentioned, I want to be honest with you and want you to know right from the start what you might be getting into so I will be blunt. Yes, I want you as a man wants a woman. I am attracted to you on more levels than I knew even existed. Your interior beauty captivates me, and your exterior beauty calls to the primal part of me that wants to claim you as a mate. I want to know what your skin feels like and how your hair smells just after a shower. I want to see you smile because of something I have said. I want." He paused and let out a painful groan. "I want things I shouldn't want and things that I am forbidden from having. Those things all have to do with you, Sarah Serenity Tillman. I want you for my own and I want to be yours."

Dair could hear her rapid breathing and see the quick rise and fall of her chest. She didn't say anything for a very long time, but simply stared into the darkness. He didn't know if that was better than her telling him he was a lunatic and to get out, but waiting for her response was still difficult. Just when he was considering the idea that maybe she had gone into shock, she cleared her throat.

"Okay, so that is a lot of information to process. And frankly it's a tad, okay more than a tad, ridiculous and weird. . .and. . .and creepy and just so not normal."

"I think I understood what you meant back at ridiculous," he said coolly. He wasn't upset or hurt by her words. Dair was actually amused by her frankness.

"Well, you got to say your peace and, brother, let me tell you, you said enough. Therefore, I get to say my peace."

"I do not want to be your brother." The idea of being related to her had his stomach churning uncomfortably.

"It's just an expression." Serenity took several breaths and rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. "Basically, I'm trying not to flip out."

"I would never hurt you," he told her suddenly. For some reason he felt the need to mention that.

"I'm thinking that if you wanted to hurt me, it would have happened by now," she said still rubbing her hands up and down her legs. He wanted to comfort her, to rea.s.sure her that everything would be alright, but he had not earned that right-yet.

"I think I need some time," she nodded her head. "Yes, time would be good. Can you just maybe not come into my room and give me freaky dreams for a few days, maybe a week, and let me think about the heavy stuff you have just dropped on my head?"

A week! His throat constricted and his heart pounded as he thought about being separated from her for that length of time. Somehow, if it was what she needed in order to come to terms with him, he would have to give her that time.

"Very well," he finally, though rather reluctantly, agreed.

"Can I see you now?" she asked him again and the eagerness in her voice nearly had him giving in to her request.

"I think I should wait to show myself to you after you have thought about the things I have shared. If, at the end of a week's time, you want to consider us a possibility, then I will show myself to you. But if you decide that there is no place for me in your life, it would be better if you did not see me. It would be easier for your mind to push away the fact that we spoke and return me back to the myth you believed me to be." As her shoulders dropped forward and the eagerness faded from her eyes, he realized just how difficult it was going to be not to give this woman everything she asked for.

"Okay, so I guess I'll talk to you again in a week?"

"You will," he confirmed. "Goodnight, Princess of Peace," he said in a near whisper. And before he could change his mind and pull the darkness away revealing himself to her, he transported from her room. He ended up across the street behind a large tree staring back at her house with a near instinctual need to go back to her and to be by her side so he could protect her and shelter her. Dair had laid his cards on the table, as the humans say, and now all he could do was wait to see if Serenity would play or fold. He still didn't know what he would do if she told him she wasn't interested in knowing him better. Raphael had made an extremely valid point about him and how strong his feelings were. Could he walk away from her? He didn't know the answer to that question.

As he watched a soft light come on in the window of Serenity's room, he wondered if she was sitting on her bed with her notebook in her lap. She was probably scribbling down their conversation furiously so as not to forget anything. It settled something inside of him to realize that he knew her well enough to know what she would be doing after such an intense talk. After about twenty minutes, the light finally went out, and for the first time in his existence, Dair found that he didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have a home, so to speak, to go to because he spent all of his time finding his next a.s.signment. Then he spent all of his time with his charge until his required task had been fulfilled. He considered staying close to her, but he didn't want to go against her wishes.

"Perhaps, you should go to the next human you are supposed to dream weave while she thinks on the things you have said."

Raphael's voice behind him didn't startle him, but he was surprised that the angel had stuck around.

"Did you hear everything?" Dair asked him as he turned away from Serenity's house and faced the celestial being.

"I heard enough," he admitted. "I am not telling you to move on, Dair. I am simply saying that you could still be doing your duties while the human makes her choice."

Dair knew Raphael was right. A sharp pain radiated through his chest as he considered leaving the small town and Serenity. He didn't want to be away from her, definitely not as far as his duties might take him which could be anywhere in the world.

"I will even accompany you," Raphael said with a twitch of his lips that suggested at a smile. "It will be like old times."

"Except you won't be delivering messages and scaring people with your overwhelming countenance," Dair pointed out.

"Hmm," Raphael nodded. "That does make things a little less exciting, but somehow I think we will manage."

With one last look at Serenity's window, Dair let out a resigned sigh. He turned back to his old friend. "First stop is a small village in Africa."

Raphael frowned. "I will never understand how the Creator chooses those who will be catalysts for change."

Dair chuckled. "He seems to have a thing for small, remote places."

The angel grunted, understanding that Dair was referring to the town of Yellville and the orphaned girl who had mesmerized him. "See you soon," Raphael told him and then shot into the air, his huge wings carrying him faster than the human eye could track.

Dair thought of the village where his next human was located and then transported himself. He swallowed down the ache that was growing in his chest the farther he got from Serenity and told himself that he would do his job, give her the time she requested, and then he would proceed to do anything he needed to in order to win her heart. He did not want to spend the rest of eternity with the ache of her absence in his mind, spirit, and body. Time would not ease it, not for his kind. Once the love of an immortal was given, there was no taking it back. She would hold his adoration, love, and esteem for the rest of time.

Serenity didn't sleep that night. She was in shock. He was real. That's the only thought that kept running through her head before finally moving on to the other implications of such a discovery. He was real. After Dair left, she wrote down their conversation and then she simply lay in bed staring up at the ceiling as if the answers to all of her questions would suddenly appear there. Of all the scenarios she had considered when it came to finally meeting the Sandman, if he even existed, she had never conjured up the idea that he would be interested in her in a romantic way. She had not even considered that he was a man who could feel such things for someone. To her he was a myth who had become a reality-one who had influenced her dream because he had been tasked to do so. That was all she had thought she was to him-an a.s.signment and nothing more, and it didn't bother her in the least to fall into that category with him. But now, now she had so much more to think about than just the fact that the Sandman was real. Now she had to consider that not only was he real but he, in his own words, wanted her.

As she stood staring at her reflection in the mirror in her bathroom, she frowned at herself. "How on earth am I supposed to process the fact that an immortal being is infatuated with me?" she asked out loud. "How am I supposed to respond to him when I don't even know him?"

It was Sat.u.r.day so she didn't have school to distract her from the situation in which she had suddenly found herself, and it wasn't her Sat.u.r.day to work at the vet clinic. So she was stuck at home with questions, fears, worries, and more questions bombarding her mind. As if she had known that in that moment Serenity needed a distraction, her cell phone rang and Glory's picture showed up on the screen.

"I'm bored," the twenty-something-year-old said, sounding way too much like a petulant teenager instead of the adult she was.

"You don't work today?" Serenity was sure that her best friend heard the desperation in her question.

Glory paused before she spoke again. "Nooo," she drew out the word. "I don't, and by the way, what's wrong with you?"

Nope, she couldn't get anything past Glory. Though in Serenity's defense, it was more because she sucked at being chill when something was going on in her life that she didn't necessarily want to talk about. But she found that this was not one of those things. She wanted to tell Glory about Dair. Serenity felt that her head just might pop off if she didn't get out some of the c.r.a.p that was floating around inside it.

"I've got some stuff to tell you," she finally said slowly.

"Want me to come there? Mom's having a good day, so Dad's given me the day off."

Considering the subject matter of the conversation, Serenity decided that it would be best to do it in the privacy of her bedroom. "Yeah, come here. Aunt Darla is taking food to some of the elderly people in town, and Uncle Wayne won't be back until this evening."

"That aunt of yours would feed the whole county if she could," Glory only half teased.

"And then demand that n.o.body help her with the cleanup. I swear the woman doesn't have a selfish bone in her body. I love her for it, but I also find myself feeling like an egocentric jerk face when I get irritated with other people."

"We can't all be Darlas, Sen. Some of us have to be the mouthy ones, and some of us have to be the obnoxious ones because if everyone went around helping everyone all of the time n.o.body would be in need of all the kindness, and it would become null and void. Not to mention if we all tried to feed each other the way Aunt Darla does, we'd be a bunch of lard a.s.ses unable to get around to help anyone anyways."

"I'll be sure and pa.s.s that on to Darla," Serenity said around the laughter that was escaping between words.

"You do that; she'll just deny that she's anything special and then make me a pie."