Billy’s Summer Dreams

 

Every summer Billy Thompson visited his Uncle Terrell and Aunt Rose down near Laredo, Texas, where they had a big sorghum farm and grew squash. Billy was seven years old and there was no way for him to understand why his parents insisted on visiting with his Aunt and Uncle every August during the hottest part of the year, or the most peculiar thing: why these visits always spawned such terrible dreams. In the summer of 66 he'd seen the worst of it, and he knew that until they left, the haunting would only get worse.

During most of the year Billy lived with his sister, Regina, and his parents, Will and Helen, in Altus, Oklahoma, where his father worked for the water company. It's not that the trips were entirely distasteful to Billy. For instance, he liked going down to the creek with Tim and Peter, his cousins, and swimming in the sandy area just below the small waterfall. He liked playing in the barn, where he would always find some old farming tools or other items capable of keeping his curiosity piqued for thirty minutes or so, depending on how unusual the implement was or the state of his boredom. He liked making tunnels out of the hay behind the barn and chasing rabbits near the squash field. But, of course, his favorite thing always came at the end of the summer: the county fair.

Of the things Billy disliked about his visits to Uncle Terrell's farm you could certainly include squash. As Aunt Rose had been graced with a perpetual supply of the vegetable, her creativity in the kitchen had led her to some strange culinary treats. There were squash casseroles, stewed squash, squash soup, squash omelet’s, squash salads, stuffed squash, fried squash, fricasseed squash, sautéed squash, marinated squash, squash cornbread, squash pie, broiled, boiled and spoiled squash, squash on a stick and even squashed squash.

By the time their visit was over Billy would 'wince at the sight of a banana. He disliked sitting on the porch late in the afternoon, while the old folks talked about the weather, the misfortunes of other relatives, or the quickest route from Austin to Galveston, or vice versa. He disliked Uncle Terrell's black and white TV, which was fuzzy on channel 2, where Captain Kangaroo resided. He disliked the room he had to sleep in most nights, also. Billy slept in a small folding bed across from Tim and Peter's bunk bed. Billy was always uneasy that they might put a snake in his covers like they threatened in their more spirited moments.         

But most of all he disliked the dreams. They were unlike any dreams he'd ever experienced: more alive and real, more distinct and focused. They would always start the same way. He would find himself floating slowly over the sorghum fields, as if he were a lazy cloud on a calm evening. After drifting for what seemed like miles he would see the fields come to an end and he would pass over the dark water of the creek toward the old caves at the bottom of Meco's Bluff. In the darkness of the caves shapes would be moving and strange noises would fill Billy's ears. He could see from his vantage point what appeared to be a rusted cage, holding back the monsters. It was the incredible verisimilitude of the dream-monsters that most unnerved the young boy. They were grossly mounded with muscles and covered with a thin, wispy hair from head to toe. Their eyes were dark, deep-set and filled with a reddish glow. When they growled their teeth appeared those of a tiger. As he would drift closer to the ancient cage they would begin to turn their collective gruesome gaze upward to meet Billy's hovering dream-form. As though alerted by his presence, the monsters would grab hold of the cage and emit a deathly chorus of agony---a plea for liberation from imprisonment. It was at this point that Billy would awaken, drenched in sweat, too frightened to go back to sleep.

His sister was the only one he would trust with his secretand he told Regina only because he knew some secrets about her. She was 13, and rambunctious, and could throw a softball father than anybody in her class, including the boys. She had long dark hair that she wore in pigtails and whenever she thought something was stupid or a waste of good time she could make the weirdest face so that you'd think she chomped down on a sour persimmon or something. Regina would tell Billy not to worry, that no monster could ever get past her, and she'd punch at the air with her fists like she was knocking out a boxer. Billy had complete faith in her. As far as he was concerned she was just great (for an older sister) and with the fair coming on Friday, marking the end of the harvest, Billy was sure he could make it.

It was on Wednesday that Billy lost his faith. They'd been on the front porch sharing a prize watermelon when the balloon had gone up. The Mexican kid they called Jose had been talking about a murderer from across the border. He said he'd wandered right into Sheriff Pack's backyard and he'd had to chase him across the creek into the caves before he shot him dead. Tim, the older of the cousins, spoke up: "Hell, Billy says the caves are full of monsters! Ain't it the truth, Billy? Tell 'em about them their hairy monsters." Tim grinned like a rat and pointed his rind at Billy's shrunken face. The kids (with the exception of Billy and Regina, who sat solemnly, their thoughts in another county), rolled over with laughter. The older folks, too, were strangely silent, as if they knew the injury caused by Regina's careless and exposed tongue. Aunt Rose quieted the hooting. "Hush up y'all. A boy's allowed his day dreams." She put her hand on her husband's and squeezed it tightly.

That night the cousins put a toad in Billy's bed and when he sprang from the covers crying they jumped around the room pretending to be monsters.

A shotgun blast was heard echoing far away.

He lay in bed counting to one thousand.

The next night he knew better than to drop his guard and fall to sleep, but by noon of the next day----the opening of the fair----he was napping like a pig. When they tried to wake him he rolled over and shooed them away. He'd found his peace and quiet and he intended to enjoy it.

But soon the dream returned. It had been two days since he'd ventured into this domain and the delay intensified the visions. The sounds and shapes surrounded him like the blanket over his head. He heard the growling and the throaty screams. Their eyes were lit up like coals and from their noses came the awful breath of old, sick dogs. Just as the dream's revulsion had nearly riveted him awake, there came a sudden quiet. The monsters looked up at him obediently, as if he might reach out and pet them. His fear receded. He looked into his hand. He held a rusty skeleton key. The monsters looked at him in grateful amazement as he unlocked the cage. He gave them a nod, then flew off to other dreams.

That night, around sunset, they packed up for the fair. Altogether there were eight of them: Billy and his parents, his Uncle Terrell (Aunt Rose had elected to stay at the house because she wasn't much on walking around, what, with a bad leg and all), and Regina, the cousins and Jose. Billy sat in the back seat, reticent, watching the stubbles of sorghum 'stream by in the deep orange sunset, the lights of the fair glowing bluish white to the north. He knew he'd be stuck with his parents and Uncle Terrell. Regina would be off with the cousins and even if he'd wanted to tag along it would be forbidden. This meant of course he would have to endure a great deal of idle looking, standing before big bearded ladies, or huge brown bears impossible to rouse from their snoring, or some sad, gray horse with a horn. They would have to stop and rest every so often and his mom would spend as much time eating as she would doing anything else.

Nevertheless, Billy enjoyed the fair. His father hoisted him onto his shoulders so that he was' the tallest person in the crowd and had the best view in the house. They rode on the kiddy roller coaster and the scrambler. He held his father's and his Uncle's hands as they walked through the Mystery Tunnel, full of Tarantulas. He ate cotton candy till it was plastered on his face like a spider web and he laughed at the clowns. His dreams were behind him and only the fair could light up his eyes.

Billy didn't know the monsters had visited his Aunt Rose. They were so strong they could rip a door right off its hinges. Aunt Rose, watching Saturday Night at the Movies, had no chance. They exited her fields leaping ten yards at a stride, disregarding any small hazards that might be posed by a stray field hand in their way. They made quick work of Boone's farm; and his dog; and Boone. A howl went up, directed to the stars, and they advanced toward the fair.

In the Ferris wheel, Billy sat between his parents, afraid to look down, but reveling in the feeling of weightlessness and altitude. The rusty cars rocked slowly in the revolution and Billy's mom gave him. a peck on the cheek as they fell by the operator on the second turn. The screams began slowly, at first only from the grassy field being used for parking. Then the siege heightened. The monsters entered the gates, overcoming horror-stricken fair-goers full of candy apples, utterly destroying their prey. They had advanced through the main tent when Billy and his parents became aware of the ruckus. As equipment shattered in their wake, survivors sprinted through the midway, screaming in terror, unable to express alarm for their own inconsolable condition. The ride operators pulled their levers and jumped the rails. Rides slowed to a halt and passengers scrambled for safety in brief and trivial retreat.

Billy's car stopped at the top. "It's them!", he said.

"Oh my dear Jesus!", his mother said, clutching her son to her.

The struggling Texans were helpless, incapable of presenting even the merest defense. Billy's parents looked down from their precarious position, high up in the machinery, and they had little confidence in their safety. They heard Regina's cry and saw her dash across the fairgrounds carrying a doll. They watched her dive behind a hawker's booth and curl up beneath the stuffed bears. They watched the monsters sighting out their prey, tearing down entire metal fences with impatience. With the exception of the few captives on the Ferris wheel the fair had quieted. A lone loudspeaker played a carnival song in the distance and then even it was silenced.

Regina called out. "Billy! Billy! Please!"

Billy broke from his mother's grasp and stood up. He spoke, a trembling, tearful voice. "This is no fun," he said.

At his call the monsters ceased their carnage and turned to face their unwitting dream-accomplice. Billy's eyes blinked with tears. Slowly, he watched them turn away, apparently convinced by the argument that they were better off on other missions. In moments they were gone. Billy turned to hug his mother's neck. "This is no fun," he repeated, and counted to one hundred.