The Dreamer

Chapter One: The First Encounter

"Now where should we begin?" He asks, and raises a dimly glowing cigarette to his lips. He breathes in and then expels the smoke in an ashen, noxious cloud that floats out and in front of my face. I pull back, an automatic response, and can’t fight back a cough. Smoke has always bothered me. But of course, I'm not nearly brave enough to ask him to put it out. I can imagine it's one of the few pleasures he can have while locked away in that cell.

"Where do you want to begin?" I ask, unable to come up with a decision myself. He chuckles dryly.

"Aren't you the expert here?"

"Well…"

"Ahh, so you want me to hold your hand and lead you, is that it?” He smirks. “Well, fine, I’ll indulge you. What do people want to know? That’s the best place to begin, I suppose. I haven't a clue myself, being trapped in here.” I can detect a tinge of bitterness to his words. “So, pray tell, what are the crowds crying for? Other than my blood, of course, that’s a given. But what do they want to know? Do they want to hear about the murders? My childhood? What are they looking for, sympathy or condemnation? You tell me."

"Well…" I pause, thinking for a moment. "I guess everyone's interested in what you can do."

"What I can do?"

"Your… powers." I’m uncomfortable referring to it that way; it sounds like I expect him to perform some sort of a miracle. "There's a lot of hearsay. I don't think anyone knows the difference between the truth and the rumors now. I mean, a lot of people embellish, blow it up like you're some kind of god…"

"Aren't I?" he asks. I'm stunned into silence, and he laughs. "I'm joking, of course." I'm not sure I believe that. "Here, let me show you." He holds the cigarette-free hand out through the bars, skin looking remarkably pale under the harsh overhead light, more like a porcelain doll than human flesh. He twitches his fingers, beckoning. "Come closer."

I glance around uncertainly, trying not to look directly at the cameras and half-expecting guards to slink out of the shadows and interfere. But when no one arrives, I cautiously stand and move over, stopping just out of reach of the outstretched hand.

"Close enough for me to touch you," he instructs. I obey with a feeling of anticipation and vague nervousness, as if I somehow expect his touch to kill me -- or at the very least, poison my mind and drive me to insanity. But of course, that has to be a rumor. It's not possible.

"What color is your tie?"

"What?"

"Your tie," he repeats, speaking slowly, as if I’m too dull-minded to understand. "What color is it?"

"Red, of course."

"Good." He grasps the material, long fingers clinging to the edges of the tie. "What sort of things do people say I can do?"

"Oh, all kinds of things. It all depends on who you ask. Maybe you can cure the sick, maybe you can turn cities to dust – people say both of those things, and everything in between. And then there's that quote of yours. You said – what was it, again? The world is nothing but your playground, your dream, and you could destroy it on a whim? So--"

"What color is your tie?" he asks again. I glance down at it indifferently.

"Didn’t you just ask? It's blue."

"And what color was it before?"

I blink, look down at the tie again, and then squint at him.

"Well, it was still blue, of course."

He sighs as if the answer displeases him, and the hand recoils.

"You can't process it yet. It's okay – it happens with everyone. I guess people are so unused to things like these that their brain just compensates, creates false ideas… I suppose an average person's mind would just collapse in on itself if it recognized an anomaly like that. A glitch in reality – can you imagine? People wouldn't be able to cope." He sighs again. "So I guess it's for the best. Still, being the only one who knows…"

I don't have a damn idea what he's going on about. I don't say anything, but he seems to gather as much from my blank look, and stops himself from continuing. He laughs.

"What's so funny?" I ask, a little perturbed. I have to remind myself that I am not dealing with someone in pristine mental condition. The Dreamer is more than a little out of his mind, or so I’ve heard.

"Never mind. I'll explain the joke one day. Now, what do you want to talk about?"

"A lot of things."

"Of course, and hopefully we'll have time for all of them. What I'm asking is, where do you want to start?"

Hopefully we'll have time. The sentence sounds strangely foreboding, and I want to clarify what he means by 'hopefully,' but I hold my tongue.

"Let's start from the beginning."

"No better place to start, I suppose. But there isn't a lot I can tell you about that."

Well, that's no help at all.

"But," he adds, seeing my dismay, "I can give you someone who likely has a lot to say. This you're allowed to write down." He doesn't pause for me, so I hastily scramble to get out the pad and paper. I’m so used to video recorders and computer keyboards it feels clumsy in my hands. "Amelia Bartholomew. She lives in New Jersey. She's the first one you'll want to talk to. Ask her for more names, she should be able to help. Come talk to me after that. I’m not allowed a telephone, so I expect I'll have to wait until you travel there and back. See you in a few days." And just like that he's gone, retreated back into the darkness of his cell. To me, it looks almost as if he's been snuffed entirely out of existence.

"What should I ask her?" I call out, automatically speaking more loudly than I need to. Logically I know that he's only moved back a few feet, but somehow the gap between us seems so much more than that.

"Ask her about her son."

He refuses to say more. I stand and leave the room, and the guards silently escort me out.

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Author's Note

So! I've decided to upload a new story -- or rather, an old story. I originally wrote this in high school, but I've decided to revise it and look for feedback here. Critique would be much appreciated. Originally there was a prologue to this, but it felt like a cheap way to reveal information, so I've tried to fit it into the chapter instead -- let me know if anything's confusing!

Dedicated to TaintedDaisies over at Forever Young Studio Designs for the cover page!