Dream Student (Dream Series book 1) Page 10
… just like that, John’s room is gone, and Sara finds herself outdoors. It’s sunny out, and warm, and she can see green all around. The athletic fields. Intramural softball. Sara looks around, wondering whose dream this is. When she spots Jackie standing there at the plate ready to bat she knows for sure, although she couldn’t say how, that this is her dream. It seems perfectly normal, a regular game of softball. Until she turns her gaze towards the pitcher, and standing there instead of another player is a giant insect. An ant, Sara thinks. Wearing a university sweatshirt, with a glove on one of its–claws?–mandibles? Whatever, Sara thinks, this is just too strange. What the heck is going on in Jackie’s head? And the ant winds up, and throws a pitch…
…And she’s back in another dorm room, also vaguely familiar. She’s been in this room, and its occupant is a friend of hers. Mark. Mark Bainbridge. Sara remembers attending several of Mark’s parties freshman year–or at least remembers not remembering some of them. She also remembers that for the first couple of weeks of that year, she had a huge crush on Mark, just like nearly all the other freshman girls. Tall, handsome, clever Mark. Mark who is just now opening the door and walking in. Walking straight towards his bed, which, Sara notices for the first time, is not empty. Someone’s hidden under the covers. For one guilty moment Sara, the memory of her crush still in her mind, hopes that when Mark pulls the covers up, it’ll be Sara under there, Sara that he’s dreaming about…
…Before she can find out, Sara is somewhere else. A lecture hall, filled with students busily writing in exam books. It takes her just a moment to realize what’s going on here: she sees that there’s one student standing up, a little way apart from the rest of the class. A tall girl with long blonde hair. A tall, naked girl, and even before she turns around Sara knows that it’s her roommate. Sara laughs, because this dream she understands perfectly, especially when she looks at one of the exam books. Statistics, the class Beth hates most, the exam she’s most afraid of…
… Only a second or two after Sara understands what she was seeing in Beth’s dream, she’s gone, and now she finds herself in the lounge of her dorm, crowded with people, music playing, beer flowing. The Halloween party! She looks all around, and when she sees one of her floormates, a short, pretty brown-haired girl named Diana Filardi, she knows, somehow, that it’s Diana dreaming this time. Diana’s sitting all by herself on the front steps, and Sara follows Diana’s wistful–again, she somehow knows that’s exactly the right description–gaze to its target, who turns out to be John from New York. John was the DJ at this party, and, it seems, Diana’s interested in him. Sara laughs; if only he knew that, maybe he’d be dreaming about her instead of slutty Annie Sellers…
…Once again, Sara suddenly finds herself somewhere else. This time, she’s in the back seat of a car–and in the driver’s seat is Brian! Sara knows who’s in the passenger seat, and when she looks, her knowledge is confirmed: she’s looking at herself. Outside the window, the streets are unfamiliar, but there’s only one place they could be going. When the car turns a corner and slows to enter the driveway of a two-story brick house, she knows this is Brian’s home.
The car is parked, the doors are opened, and Brian and dream-Sara exit, with the real Sara following close behind. They walk up to the house, and Sara sees the Christmas decorations everywhere: reindeer outside, a big wreath on the door, lights strung all around. The front door opens, and Brian and dream-Sara are greeted by what seems to be Brian’s entire extended family. Sara can feel the pride and happiness that Brian is radiating as he walks in with dream-Sara on his arm. She’s overwhelmed by the feeling…
***
…Someone–Brian–is kissing me.
That’s all I know, and it’s the only thing in the world that matters, being woken up by a kiss like a fairy-tale princess. We kiss for a good long while. Finally, I back off from him a little. “You were dreaming about me,” I say, unable to suppress a giggle.
“And you were dreaming about me dreaming about you.”
“That too,” I answer, and then I go back to kissing him. It seems like the only reasonable thing to do at the moment.
***
Thursday morning. Brian and I walk over to Lardner, and while he goes to get his breakfast, I spot Beth and sit down next to her. “You didn’t come home last night, young lady,” she says to me, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “I’m shocked. Simply shocked,” but she can’t keep it up; she quickly dissolves into laughter.
I laugh too, but seeing her brings to mind the dreams I had–I saw–last night. Including hers. I know we don’t keep secrets from each other, but she at least ought to have the choice to keep them if she wants to. How would I feel if I knew someone else was seeing what I was dreaming about?
She notices that I’m looking at her funny, and I realize I can’t not tell her. “Uh–I’ve got something I have to tell you,” I start, and she gives me a blank look. “Last night–well, last night I had more dreams. But I wasn’t seeing the nightmare, I wasn’t seeing that guy. And I wasn’t seeing Brian–well, actually he was one of the ones I saw–but…”
Her eyes go wide; she realizes immediately what I’m getting at. “Are you trying to tell me that you…?” I nod. “Me?” I nod again. “You’re not joking?” I shake my head. “I don’t even remember…”
In for a penny, in for a pound. “You were in your Statistics final. Standing in the middle of the room. And you were…”
Now she remembers. “Naked. Of course.” She doesn’t look embarrassed, or at least she’s covering it well if she is. I’d be red from my ears down to my toes. “OK. That is just a little freaky,” she looks away from me, collecting her thoughts. “But it’s not like you can control it. And it’s not any surprise that I’m nervous about that exam. Right?”
Right. “I don’t want to be seeing any of this. If I knew how to switch it off, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I don’t want to know why Jackie down the hall is dreaming about giant ants, or that John from New York has a thing for Annie Sellers. I don’t want to know any of it.”
She looks at me in disbelief when I mention John. “You didn’t know that? He’s been like that all semester. It’s pretty sad, really,” Beth says, shaking her head as though I’ve disappointed her by not knowing the details of everyone else’s love life (or lack thereof). “He’s not her type, obviously–but you started this, now you have to tell me, who else did you see? Besides Jackie–and honestly? That’s just really weird. I’m not sure I want to know about the giant ants.”
Brian returns with a plate of what looks sort of like scrambled eggs as I’m telling Beth about the other dreams I saw. I told him already; we talked all about it on the way over here.
I kind of wish I hadn’t told either of them about the dreams; I feel like I’m breaking everyone’s confidences–but I go right on doing just that. I’ve just finished retelling Diana Filardi’s dream when Brian sits down across from me. I look over at his plate, and at Beth’s now-empty tray and I realize that I haven’t gotten anything to eat yet. So I excuse myself, and by the time I get back to the table, Beth’s spotted poor John from New York on his way out of the dining hall, and she’s flagged him over.
She’s not going to–oh, of course she is.
I’m too late to stop her, she’s already advising him to think about Diana. “Don’t you think she’s cute?” she asks him, and he agrees that Diana is, in fact, cute. “She really likes guys who have a big…” I glare at Beth, and she finishes with a laugh, “…stereo.” That’s why John is usually the DJ at our dorm parties; he’s always willing to lug his stereo with the ridiculously large speakers down to the lobby.
It’s clear from his expression that he hasn’t given Diana much thought before, and it’s equally clear that he’s now considering her in a new light. He leaves, with a very preoccupied look in his eyes. I’m at a loss; I don’t know whether
to laugh or yell at Beth. “Don’t look so worried,” she tells me. “It’s not wrong if you’re using your powers for good.”
Powers? I almost laugh at that. But even though it was a joke, it’s kind of true. I guess I do have a “power.” Sara, the amazing psychic girl! That does have kind of a ring to it. Except…
“Sara? Are you OK?” Brian’s voice brings me back to the moment. He looks very concerned. I take his hand, give it a squeeze. That seems to satisfy him.
“I’m fine. I was just thinking. First of all, I’m not sure that pimping out Diana qualifies as ‘good.’”
Beth protests, “You say pimp, I say matchmaker.” She doesn’t give me the chance to respond. “It’s in a good cause. She obviously must be interested in him, and if he had any sense he’d be interested in her instead of Annie Sellers. We’re just helping nature take its course, right?”
I shrug. What can I say, really? Besides, she probably is right, at least about that little part of the dreams. The thing is, she’s so interested in using my dreams to play matchmaker that she hasn’t considered something else; if I can use what I’m seeing to (hopefully) help people I know, then don’t I have to use what I’m seeing in the nightmares to do something about them too?
Another thought goes through my mind just now, and it throws me off track. “If I’ve got a power, right? I’m psychic, or whatever you want to call this, right? Well, where’s my wise mentor? In every story I can think of, people who suddenly find they have a special power or something always have one. King Arthur had Merlin. Luke Skywalker had Obi-Wan. The Scottish guy in that stupid movie Ron likes, where they’re all cutting each other’s heads off…”
“Connor MacLeod,” Brian pipes in. “And the movie is ‘Highlander.’”
Beth snorts. “All you guys like that movie. I’ll never understand it.”
“Anyway,” I say, trying to get back on track. “Connor whatever, he had Sean Connery to mentor him, right? So where’s the old wise master to tell me how to deal with all this?” Brian’s amused by the thought, but Beth has a different reaction.
“I’d let Sean Connery tell me what to do,” she sighs. “Anytime.”
So would I, although not that way. He’s old enough to be my grandfather, after all. Besides, I’m taken! And I will definitely have to tell Brian that that was my first thought, once we’re alone of course. But I definitely wouldn’t say no to Sean Connery’s advice. I bet he’d know exactly what to do about the nightmares.
***
When we’re all finished with breakfast, we each head our separate ways. Beth has a paper to finish, and Brian’s going to a review session before his calculus final tomorrow. And I agreed to go over Biochemistry notes with Melanie Vondreau, so we’re meeting over at the Student Union for that.
The thing about Melanie is that, and I honestly don’t know why, we’ve always rubbed each other a little bit the wrong way from the first time we met way back at freshman orientation. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not as though we’re blood enemies or anything. It’s just–I guess I’d call it a cold feeling towards her, which I know is reciprocated in full.
She’s been having trouble in Biochemistry for a few weeks now, and it must be even worse than I thought if she was willing to come and ask me for help. Desperate times and all that, I guess.
Not that she said it that way, of course. I knew what she was asking, though. I started to come up with some excuse to say no, but then I remembered how Julie Paschal was nice enough to help me with physics when she must have had better things to do. It’s only good karma to help someone else in kind, right? Besides, helping her will be a good review for me. So I agreed, and I think she was a little surprised that I did.
We find an empty study room–with a nice big table to spread all our books and notes out–and we get down to work. We start at a little after ten in the morning, and we keep slogging on straight through the afternoon until Melanie finally pronounces herself done at four o’clock in the afternoon.
Amazingly, we actually both manage to act like grown-ups for pretty much the whole time. She makes a couple of snotty remarks the first hour, and I’m snotty right back, but we get past that and we get a heck of a lot done. By the time we’re finished, I’m completely confident, even more than I was before, in the A I’ll be getting on tomorrow’s final. She’s pretty sure–I think she’s right, too–she’ll be able to pull out a B.
She looks at her watch as she’s packing up her books. “I can’t believe we were sitting here for six hours!”
I agree! “You said it, Mel,” I answer, cringing as I hear the word escape my lips. I know she hates being called “Mel.” I think it was literally the very first thing she said when we all introduced ourselves that first day at orientation. I really, truly didn’t do it on purpose. Not this time, anyway.
She surprisingly doesn’t take offense. “I appreciate you taking all this time. Really. You didn’t need to go over this all day, you know it cold.” Well, that’s true. But it’s very classy of her to say so.
“You can make it up to me sometime,” I say. “But right now I want to get back to the dorm, drop everything off and get something to eat. I’m starving!” She agrees, and we walk back, chatting pleasantly enough as it just begins to snow. I’m wiped out–doing six hours of anything in one sitting is tough, no matter what it is. But I feel like I did a good deed for the day, and that thought warms me up ever so slightly on the cold walk home.
***
Now I’m lying in bed, at the early hour of ten o’clock. I want to be sure to get a good night’s sleep so I can be at my best for the Biochemistry final tomorrow. I may know it all cold, like Melanie said, but that won’t help if I’m ragged and half-awake during the test…
***
…Sara’s in a classroom in the middle of an exam, and a roomful of students is busily writing away in their exam books, all except one of them, a tall blonde girl who’s standing up in the middle of the room, completely naked. Sara shakes her head as she watches her roommate grow more and more agitated, and then the door to the classroom opens, and three women, all tall, all blonde, and a fourth, a teenage girl with dark hair, troop in.
Beth’s sisters. They point at her in unison, as Beth just stands there, seemingly unable to do anything at all. Sara closes her eyes, not wanting to see any more, thinking that she knew Beth was concerned, but she had no idea her roommate was that worried about her statistics final…
…and without transition, Sara finds herself elsewhere. She’s outside, on grass, trees all around, and above the trees in the nighttime sky tall buildings loom everywhere. She wouldn’t swear to it, but she’s pretty sure this is Central Park, in New York City. When she sees her floormate Jane, Jane Barnaby, she’s convinced she’s right; Jane, like her roommate Jessica, is from there. Sara follows Jane as she sits down on a bench, next to a young man who looks about her age, with the same brown hair, the same coloring, a young man who might be her brother. Yes, Sara remembers, she has a twin brother. They really do look very alike, except that while Jane is wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, her brother wears a dark suit, and a cape around his neck. He turns to her, telling Jane that it’s time for her to join him, he knows she wants to, and it’ll be so quick and so easy, and then he opens his mouth wide, baring big white fangs…
…and now Sara is standing in a small living room. She recognizes it immediately as the apartment Mona the Resident Director lives in downstairs. Mona is sitting at a table, with a stack of books next to her, scanning pages quickly, highlighting frantically, trying to keep up as the pages begin to turn on their own. When she finishes one book, two more appear from nowhere on top of the stack, and now she opens two books at once, her eyes darting back and forth, and then another book appears, and another, until finally the table collapses under the weight of them all…
…she’s back in her own dorm room, sitting on her own bed
, inside Beth’s head again, looking over at Beth’s bed, where Beth lies seductively–it’s the only word that fits–wearing nothing but a gold bikini that barely covers anything at all. Clearly her dread of the Statistics final is forgotten. There are footsteps outside the door, and Sara turns to watch as the doorknob turns, the door opens, and in walks a tuxedo-clad Sean Connery, gun in one hand, cocktail shaker in the other. Beth asks him who he is, and Sara thinks to herself that this is all her fault; she put this image in her roommate’s mind. Sean Connery answers, as Sara knows he will, “The name’s Bond, James Bond…”
***
…there’s a ringing sound, ringing, ringing, ringing. I open my eyes, expecting to see my roommate in bed with a world-famous British secret agent, but it’s just Beth there, sleeping peacefully. She does have a very satisfied smile on her face, though. I won’t be telling her I saw that particular dream. I will take that particular secret to the grave.
Anyway, she’s sleeping so deeply that the ringing–the fire alarm, obviously–isn’t registering with her at all. I get up as quietly as I can, unlock the door, inch it open and sniff the air out in the hallway.
It’s exactly what I expect, the stench of burned popcorn. The door to the next room over opens up, and Kelly Travers pops her head out, hair all over the place, eyes unfocused. She, too, sniffs, and then turns towards me. “Who was it?”
The horrible little stove is on the other side of the floor from us. And sure enough, just now here comes someone around the corner, as up and down the hall doors are opening one by one. Kate Billings, who’s isn’t even technically a student of the university–she goes to the Ohio Institute of Music and they’ve got an arrangement for their students to live in our dorms–has a guilty look on her face as she sees us. “Terrie and I were up late studying. We just wanted a snack. We were really careful,” she says, wincing as she does. You can’t be careful enough with that stove. In my three years here it’s never worked right.