The Dreamer (standard:fantasy, 2109 words)
Author: Andrew R	Added: Jun 17 2002	Views/Reads: 3154/2056	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Ever wished your dreams could come true? What do you dream about? Think about it, do you really want that to come true? Especially when dreams become nightmares.

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eighteen, much to the distress of his mental health.  I still feel 
extremely guilty about that, but I couldn't control my dreams, and he 
was such a cocky bastard. 

My dreams help me get Carla as well.  I saw her on my first night at
University.  She was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen.  She was 
petite with dark hair styled into a bob; her eyes were dark brown pools 
I wanted to get lost in.  She had a body that you would dream about, 
and I did, that night.  The next day she noticed me in the library, she 
approached me and we found ourselves making love in the toilet.  
Afterwards she said she didn't know why, she had never done anything 
like that before.  She said that when she saw me she felt like she knew 
me, even though she knew she had never met me before.  Just looking at 
me had got her wet and she couldn't explain why, I wasn't even her 
normal type, she liked Rugby players and I was hardly that.  We hit it 
off from there and it wasn't long before we moved in together. 

All the time from when I was thirteen until he turned up I never quite
knew I was special.  I had a feeling that I had a power, but I just saw 
it as a game, it was never real.  If I'm honest I just put it all down 
to coincidence, I'm only rationalising it more now because I know more. 
 But at the time I thought it was all a bit weird but it was just 
coincidence; I was arrogant enough to believe I was so good looking and 
charming that girls just fell at my feet and offered to sleep with me, 
and that horrible things happening to people who hurt me was just luck. 
My life with Carla was going great, I was as happy as it is possible to 
be, how was I to know that when I dreamt of flying monkeys they briefly 
existed to plague old grannies in their sleep, disappearing with my 
waking, only making the news in the less believable tabloids. 

He appeared then and changed it all, forever.  My dreams began to
change, and a fearsome blackened figure with the flames of hell behind 
him kept appearing.  He would corrupt my dream world, life withering at 
his gaze; my flying monkeys disappeared in smoke, screeching in agony 
as they fell to the ground.  The next day a news report told of seven 
indiscriminate animal bodies found char grilled in an old folks home in 
Sussex.  He appeared again and again and seemed to exert control over 
my dreams in a way I had never been able to do.  He seemed ancient 
beyond age, his features obscured beneath his thick black cloak, only 
his eyes, those burning, piercing eyes, that held me in their gaze, 
gave away any sort of humanity in his soul.  He told me I had to come 
with him or tomorrow I would be dead.  I remember the dream quite 
distinctly; we were standing in a wasteland and I was shouting back at 
him "No, no, I won't do it, I won't leave Carla." He laughed at me 
mockingly "You will go or you will die." I woke up in a cold sweat, not 
sure of what was real anymore. 

The next evening he appeared again, I had christened him the reaper
because everything he touched seemed to wither away and die.  He 
laughed again and said "Have you decided, my little one?" I looked at 
him, holding those fearsome eyes at bay, and stupidly a pure hope in my 
soul arose.  It was Carla, who I loved so much.  She appeared next to 
me in my dream, sleeping, an innocent beauty.  He noticed her and 
smiled maliciously. "I have a deal for you little one, you or her, the 
choice is yours." "No, you can't, you mustn't.  Don't hurt her," I 
said. "Have it you way then."  At that her moved towards me at a pace 
too rapid to avoid, he touched my arms and my face.  I felt my arms 
wither away and it felt like my mouth had suddenly disappeared only 
featureless skin left.  He laughed and with one swipe cleaved my legs 
away.  I awoke with a jolt, my eyes opening in panic.  My throat was 
burning; I tried to cough but found I couldn't.  I tried to move but my 
arms and legs were numb.  Carla was still asleep beside me; I could see 
her from the corner of my eye.  I lay there for hours, my mind reeling 
with possibilities; gradually I drifted back to sleep. 

He was there waiting for me, my harbinger of doom. "You have decided
then?" I tried to nod, or move or speak but I was still mutilated by 
his attack.  He laughed and waved his arm returning my body to its 
original appearance. "I won't let you hurt her," I said. "I see you 
won't make the decision."  He turned away from Carla and me, speaking 
to himself, he said, "no matter, I shall make the decision for you." 

The next morning I awoke to find three men staring at me in my bed. 
They were wearing all black, looking mean and official.  They had 
granite stone expressionless faces, cold uncaring eyes.  An elderly man 
was standing in the shadows at the back of the room; I focussed on him 
as he spoke, "Mr Davis, you are in shit." "What?  Who the hell are you 
people?"  It was then that I noticed the dampness in the bed; I turned 
to see if Carla was awake. 

It could have been Carla, but I like to tell myself that it was someone
else, a plant, some tramp John Doe they had picked up from the morgue.  
In my fantasy Carla got up early and went to the shop for some milk, 
when she got back I was gone, no trace of me.  She was sad, of course, 
but after a while she got on with her life, met someone else, started a 
family, was happy. What I found lying next to me was a body, skinless 
and bloody, I couldn't tell who it was, but the blood had leaked all 
over the bed. "As I say Mr Davis, you are in shit, really big shit." 
They took me in that day.  They became my new family.  I met other 
people like me, 'dreamers,' who could control and manipulate people, 
even assassinate them if it was needed.  They taught me how to control 
my dreams and project my image into other peoples, change them, control 
them. 

I found out then how long they had been watching me; Adriana was one of
theirs, she had been a plant all along.  He was there as well; in the 
complex they took me to; dark and brooding, just as imposing as his 
projected image.  He was one of the first agents, their most efficient 
recruiter and most feared assassin. 

I work for them now, the shadow government.  I specialise in getting
people into prominent positions of power, making them sexually 
appealing to everyone around them.  You've probably seen some of my 
clients around, on the telly, in the news.  If you work for a large 
multinational, we own it, or own its board at least.  The government 
you know and trust is ours, your teachers, your friends, the pop stars 
you adore, the writers you read, all ours.  That guy who seems to 
always have a model girlfriend on his arm even though he's ugly and 
charm less, ours.  The top one hundred rich list of the world, that's 
ours too. 

I still wonder about Carla, but I know better than to mess with that
sort of thing now, I'm not even allowed to dream about her happy life, 
only allowed to wonder. 


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