Chapter 9 - Dragons and Dreams

Premonition? Maybe. Warning? Definitely.

Penny

The dragon hatchlings chased each other weaving patterns in the sky. One would destroy with fire, and the other would begin again. Fluffy and Fido were growing up so fast. Soon they would be full grown dragons. I had joked with Tom about the little park fire I’d imagined had been set by the two dragons and wondered now if it had all been a dream; my dreams were changing from lighter fare to something darker. Premonition? Maybe. Warning? Definitely. People must wonder what on earth I’m staring at in the sky. Even Callie couldn’t see them. Tails and smoke trails braided in a double helix at faster and faster speeds. A clap of thunder and they were gone, streaks of green and blue, headed higher into the clouds.

My fingernails bit into my palm. The white feather now branded into me, its tip crossed with that of the silver feather that had Dreamwalker scrawled across it. My palm burned as I watched the hatchlings display. No, not burned. Itched. As if they knew I was no longer focusing on them, the baby dragons dipped so close to me I ducked and stumbled back.

A buzzing sound and the timbre of church bells filled my mind. Callie was in the gallery setting up. Annie had gone home. I was alone.

My heart raced as a smell weaved its way into my senses. Fire. Why was fire always at the center of everything? I fought my way back into the house which swam before my eyes, and as I stumbled toward it, the fog began to clear, and the red brick house I’d grown up in was gone. The fog cleared, the day grew darker, and yet my feet kept moving somehow knowing the way. Just a few more steps, and I was in a clearing. Where once had been my childhood home, a park, and trees, were fewer trees, no park, and in the place of red brick, stood a log cabin. I knew this place.

****

Bare toes, just visible beneath the ruffled hem of a nightgown, burrowed into an earthen floor. A child’s hand lay gently on a large oak table. A black kettle hung in the brick fireplace. The cabin was full of quiet tension. Fire surrounded the small cabin, and shouts outside permeated the walls, but no one moved. Three soldiers stood behind the child, their lances pointed upward, their hands gripped tightly around ready for a command. The child stood tall, unmoved by what was happening around her. The soldiers at her back watched her but made no move against her. Smoke from outside curled through glassless windows.

My heart beat faster, my breath arrested in fear for this child I did not know. What is she waiting for? Why didn’t she move? Is she waiting for someone? Get out!

She smiled as if she’d heard me. Her look held centuries of understanding, though she looked seven.

The door whipped open. A female figure stood in its frame. The child’s mother? Maybe. The woman called to the child to get out, and the child smiled at her like she had at me and shook her head. “No. I am where I’m supposed to be.”

“But the soldiers.” The woman moved forward as if to come inside but could not get past the threshold.

“They will not hurt me. Can’t you see? They stand guard. They watch. They protect. This is what they must do. It’s the only way.” The young girl held the edge of the table, as though she held the cabin and those inside it together. Her little fingers gripped so tightly her knuckles turned white. How much longer would she be able to hold on? I had to help her.

The flames drew closer, and if she didn’t leave, everyone would burn.

The front door slammed shut, and I shouted, “Move!” I reached out to her. When I touched her, I felt everything she felt—the oak table beneath my hand, the dirt beneath my feet, and the breath of the soldiers at my back. The door swung open again, and I reeled back. The woman standing at the threshold was my mother, and she would not be held back. She swept toward the child, arms outstretched, until she was pulled back into the night.

****

“Hey! You okay?” Callie’s fingers wrapped around my arms. “Wake up.” My eyes were open, but she was frantic. Frantic wasn’t Callie’s style, but did I detect a hint of fear in her voice or was it anger? “Damn you,” she hissed. “Come out of it, Pen.” She rolled her eyes and muttered, “I told her to stop pulling you in. You’re not—”

“I’m not what?” I sat up, struggling against her grip. “Relax. I’m okay. I just had that dream again.”

“The girl in the cabin on fire? That’s the dream, right?” Callie gripped my arm harder, studying me intently.

She didn’t know? Was there an unspoken rule that Dream Walkers couldn’t walk in the dreams of their family? Or did it have something to do with the break in our telepathy? Whatever kept our thoughts from the other must surely keep Dreamwalkers out . I’d have to remember to ask Lucien.

“Thass the one.” I shook the cobwebs from my head and tried to recall if any new information had been added to the dream. “You didn’t answer my question. I’m not what?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Callie harrumphed and sat back, watching me. In the dawn light her thin frame seemed ethereal, and her widening eyes sunk back into their sockets, making her high cheekbones even more pronounced. “You’re the photographer. Which means you look for details. You know our natural surroundings better than most people know their families. I need to know, Penny. What did you see?” Her grey eyes bored into mine. I didn’t have an answer, so I shrugged.

“It’s never changed. It’s been the same damn dream since we were sixteen.” There had been one change, though. One significant detail, but something held my tongue. I couldn’t tell Callie, but maybe I could ask Lucien. Never in all my years of this dream had my mother tried to pull the little girl out of the cabin before the fire engulfed it.

“It’s important, Pen. Think,” Callie commanded.

“Why are you pushing? What’s going on?” Had something happened while I’d been asleep? Had I said something that scared her? “You’re the Dreamwalker. Tell me what I should see or be looking for.”

She let go of me and her nails scraped across my skin leaving the faintest white lines. It didn’t hurt, but it sent it a message. Pay attention. It wasn’t the same pattern I’d watched the dragons create in the clouds, but her marks bore a resemblance to it.

Callie took one final look at me and nodded. As she got up, a shadow crossed her face that sent a shiver down my spine. In the next instant, she looked lost, sad. “I can hear them. Calling to us. They’re dying. We need to go back.”

Not us, though. Not really. Callie had never wanted or needed my help before. Having the dream was enough. Besides, I didn’t know anything about dreamwalking. That’s her world. She could keep it. I wanted no part of it. it. Yet I couldn’t shake the fear in her voice when she said, ‘they’re dying’ and ‘they’re calling to us’.

“Who’s lost? Go back where? What are you talking about?”

Callie shook her head and waved away the questions. “Never mind. It’s not your business. I’ll take care of it.” She left me on the sofa, saying something about making tea.

Was she how I’d gotten back into the house? She must have been on her way home from somewhere. I focused my intent and concentrated. The hospital? The smell of antiseptic clung to her clothes and skin. Paint, of course. But there was something else. Something darker beneath those familiar smells. Decay. Had to be the hospital.

Hospital. I needed to see mom. Even if she couldn’t talk to me, I could talk to her. And if Annie were there—of course she’d be there—friends with mom and a Spirit Healer. What did that mean? I had yet to see her interact with any of the nurses or doctors. Annie was just there. But if she was there, maybe I could talk to her instead… I looked down at the white feather emblazoned in my palm

Who are you, Annie, really?

©Lisa Rogers. This story has been written from my head by my hand for more years than I care to count. Completed December 2024. All Rights Reserved.

Welcome, new readers and subscribers! If you’re just catching up, I’ve posted the links to the first seven chapters below.

Chapter 1 - The Silver Feather
Chapter 2 - Lucien’s Visit
Chapter 3 - Callie
Chapter 4 - Oscar
Chapter 5 - Shades of Crimson and White
Chapter 6 - Dreamweaver Training Begins
Chapter 7 - The Mark of Callie
Chapter 8 - Dreams for Sale.

I have gone back-and-forth ad nauseum about whether or not to serialize this book and have decided to rip off the Band-Aid(tm) or plaster, if you prefer.

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