Rise of the Dreamkillers

Connor Barker’s eyes snapped open and he rolled onto his side. He couldn’t get the image of the dream out of his head – not that he wanted to forget it. There were people in the dream that he didn’t know, yet he could put a name to their faces. There were battles in the nightmare that either had taken place in the far past or were going to happen in some distant future.

The palette was both colorful and full with range. Never in his life had Connor dreamt with so much in it that he actually remembered everything.

He understood why Tracy Kingston and Rick Hopman were there – they were his friends. But where the hell did all the others come from? He was pretty sure that Rick didn’t have a son by the name of Vincent who was Tracy’s biological son.

And where did Mykella, Orion, and Ilias all come from? What about Queen Nanaac and King Darvon? How did he ever create a Great War and the Three Prophecies in his head?

Connor winced as he felt a poke under his arm and he reached down and pulled out a small book. He had forgotten that he fell asleep reading this book. This was where he came up with the killer of dreams – Dreamkillers. He flipped through the pages and quickly stopped when he saw the name Nanaac, who was a Queen so long ago and raped by her sole rival, King Darvon.

Just as he closed the book, his alarm turned on, making him jump and almost fall out of bed. He reached up and grabbed his glasses and put them on and then grabbed a notebook. He opened it to an empty sheet and found a pen next to his clock and wrote two simple words:

The Dreamkiller

He studied it for a moment, not completely satisfied, and then wrote beneath the title: The Great War Saga.

Connor got to school that morning feeling quite content with himself, as if he was walking on air. He had an entire novel in his head. He would put away his story of the bounty hunter for a while.

Later that day he found Rick during lunch and Rick smiled and shook his head as Connor approached him.

“And where have you been?”

Connor gave Rick a puzzled expression. “What’re you talking about?”

“Well, for beginners,” Rick said and shoved a piece of gum into his mouth. “You were supposed to call me last night to tell me what Tracy said.”

“Oh,” said Connor and a wave of panic overcame him suddenly. He had forgotten all about the letter he had written to her and she had not responded at all. “She never called me.”

Rick nodded his head and looked around. “And it looked like you were running late this morning.”

“What’re you doing, spying on me?”

Rick lifted his hands. “Lighten up, Man. You weren’t in Home Room today.”

Now Connor nodded. “I got a late start this morning. Look, I gotta tell you about my new novel,” he said, but before he could even tell Rick the title, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

“Tell me all about it later,” Rick said and they entered the school together, only to separate once inside.

Several hours later, Connor entered his Spanish class and, like a premonition, he saw that it was both Cooking-in-Class day and that Tracy was sitting in the far back with Pam.

Throughout the class, he kept staring at her and marveling over her long future he saw in the dream. He knew that everything was fiction, but he envied her just knowing that she had the power to become who she was in his dreams.

He didn’t care if she caught him staring at her, which she did a couple of times. She only smiled at him when she did catch a glimpse of him and then she would quickly turn her attention to the class.

Was everything totally fictitious? Perhaps the use of his friends was a little far-fetched, but the names of Darvon and Nanaac were real people. Did they have a child who would name himself Orion? Is it possible that the war is going on without humanity knowing about it?

He turned his gaze out the window and looked out into the sunny day. In the far distance, across the horizon of reason, he could have sworn he saw the silhouette of an enormous fortress standing where the world ends and a single tear fell from his eye and knew then that the Great War was in fact being waged – he just had a feeling. But when he looked back, the fortress was gone. No; it was no figment of his imagination – the war was being fought and no matter who was or was not included in it, Connor knew that he must be a part in it. Why would he have dreamt of it in the first place?

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He turned his head back to where Tracy and Pam were sitting and saw that Tracy was scribbling something down on a piece of paper using an orange marker and Pam was whispering things in her ear.

Connor shook his head in disgust and then stood up, facing them, and walked over to them; he didn’t care that the class had not ended yet. He almost slammed his hand down on her desk, covering the paper – she had accidentally run the marker across his hand.

Tracy jumped and looked up into Connor’s dark eyes.

“You don’t have to write me this letter, Trace,” he said and then smiled down at her. “It’s all right. No matter what she tells you to write, it isn’t your heart that’s talking.” He grabbed the paper and crinkled it into a ball. “It’s all right,” he said with a nod and then turned around and went back to his desk.

Tracy Kingston stared at Connor for a short while before turning to Pam with an icy glare. “I can’t do this,” she said and stood up. “Stop telling me what to do!”

Everyone watched Tracy run out of the room; no one moved an inch. It was as if one student a day breaks down and runs out of a class.

Connor shook his head and sighed. He stood up and ran after her and caught up with her half way down the hall. “Wait,” he called and she stopped and slammed her back against a locker. “You okay?”

“I can’t…”

Connor put his hand up on the locker next to her head; he didn’t dare put it on her for comfort for fear of her reaction. “It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t go on pretending to be two people.” She looked up into his eyes and he saw the tears. “I’ve liked you for a while now – really liked you.”

His heart was sinking into the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t find words to console her with.

“But I have obligations to the people I hang out with,” she continued. “Don’t you see? I can’t satisfy both people?”

Connor understood her situation. She didn’t want to lose the friends she had on a single date with someone like him. But he couldn’t let the moment end like this.

“I know how the future is to be. What if I were to tell you that I’m pretty sure you don’t marry me?” He smiled at her as he watched her confused expression.

“Yeah?” She cleared her throat. “And who do I marry, Connor?”

He thought for a moment. “Jack Andrews.”

“Jack Andrews,” she repeated. “Who’s that?”

Connor shrugged. “Some guy you meet in college.”

Tracy sighed and shook her head. “You have my entire life planned out for me, haven’t you, Connor Barker?”

He couldn’t suppress his smile. “You don’t mind, do you?” He moved closer to her unintentionally, but soon realized that she didn’t try to move away. “All I’m saying, Trace,” he continued in a tone of urgency, “is that you don’t throw something away without even trying it first. I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m only asking you for one date.”

“I...”

“Don’t let your friends speak for you. I’ve known Pam longer than I’ve known you. She’s okay, but don’t let her influence your answer.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Connor grinned. “I had a dream about you last night,”

She turned a beautiful shade of pink.

“No; it wasn’t like that. I know how Herb treats you.” He didn’t know why he was telling her this; it felt like a cheap shot now that he thought about it.

She stared at him without emotion and then wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed so tight that Connor thought she was going to break his neck.

“There are nice guys out there, Trace,” he whispered in her ear, becoming intoxicated by her perfume. “I’m one of those guys.” It sounded too corny, but it was how he felt.

“All right,” she said in his ear and his heart sank again.

“Yeah?” He looked into her eyes and she nodded with a smile on her lips. “We don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want them to know.”

She kissed his cheek. “Let’s get back to class,” she said and as they began walking, hand in hand, “Thank you,” she whispered.

“It’ll be alright,” he replied and felt like the king of the world. It didn’t matter to Connor when the Dreamkillers rise to take over the world, all he knows is that he’ll finally get that first date with Tracy Kingston.

Until then, he had to get home to begin Book One of the Great War Saga before it drove him insane. He wasn’t sure if anything in his novel will become fact, but he knows that if it does, he’ll be around to chronicle the Rise of the Dreamkillers for future generations.

When he went to bed that night, with the date planned for tomorrow evening, he still felt like the king of the world. Nothing could bring him down.

But everything changed when he closed his eyes and found himself in another world. It was a strangely familiar world where he saw a large fortress and hundreds of people kneeling before the fortress.

No, they weren’t kneeling in front of the fortress. They were kneeling in front of a body being held by Vince Hopman (why am I dreaming of this again?) who was weeping while he held Mykella’s lifeless body in his arms.

Connor looked up into the swirling clouds and then he heard a beautiful voice that said, “You must go back and tell the tale; the prophecies must be told. You must write them down so everyone knows that the war is coming.”

Connor looked back and saw that he stood alone.

No; a young woman was standing where Mykella had once lain. She was looking at him. “I am Lysil, your guide. You have to tell them to be ready,” she said to him. “It is a vicious ripple in Time, Connor. The Great War of the Dreamkillers is still being fought. If you help me, maybe the events could be changed. But you must warn your people. The War is coming.”