. He sat in darkness, as he so often did. The blinds were drawn
against the lights of the Centre's foyer, the door closed. What little
light there was, seeping from underneath the door, glinted off the
smoked glass desktop and cast small shadows against the black lacquer
furniture around the room. He was perfectly still, save the steady
rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, reclining in his chair,
feet up on his desk. Symphony Orchestras poured from the stereo to
offset the silence.
Chief was in. Dreamwind could hear the ear splitting sound of
Reba piercing the walls. "Ugh!" he muttered to himself, pounding three
times on the wall behind him. The annoyance quickly dropped from
range. Eyes closed, he grinned to himself. "To each his own..." he
thought, but couldn't figure why one would subject themselves to such
agony. He chuckled aloud, and fell once more to the life pouring forth
from his own stereo speakers.
The haunting images played again against the backdrop of his
eyelids. He moaned quietly, concentrating harder on the music. His
past, so awful, his future so uncertain. Fear brought the lump to his
throat again; he swallowed hard, to no avail.
"I will not allow this," he thought forcefully, getting up from
his chair and switching off the stereo. "Damn," he whispered, shaking
away the images with rapid tosses of his head, and pulling his fingers
tightly through his hair. He switched on the light on his desk,
smiling thoughtlessly at the two pictures framed on the desk, and lit
a cigarette. "We'll get through this guys, I promise," he said to
them, his own doubt carving its way up his spine, even as he spoke.
He sat back down in his chair, elbows on knees, head in his hands,
waiting for the fit to pass. The tremors were the worst; he pulled the
bottle of Bacardi from his bottom drawer, poured a shot, and downed
it. The tremors eased, replaced by warm fire in his throat, when the
soft, rapid knock came on his door. He replayed the sound in his head
while he put out the cigarette and replaced the bottle and glass.
Process of elimination led him to an answer.
"Come in Shallsee." he said, thanking God for the intrusion on
his misery.
The look in her eyes only increased his anxiety. Akin to panic,
her eyes darted around the room cautiously. Dreamwind looked at her
curiously over his glasses. The way the desk lamp's light glinted off
her eyes, he was certain she was near tears. She forced a smile, then
quickly wrinkled her nose at him when the cigarette smoke reached her.
His face never changed, but he nodded for her to close the door.
"Hi DW," she said in a choked, quiet voice. Not much ever escaped
Dreamwind's attention; he was studying her intently, his nightmares
now forgotten, but he was vividly aware of the cautious panic, winding
a grip around his stomach.
Perhaps his dearest friend in all the Centre, if not the world,
his heart ached for her. So calm and levelheaded...what on earth could
be chewing at her this way?
"Are you alright mine dear?" he asked her, unable to completely
shield the concern in his voice. She smiled, albeit weakly, and nodded
her head.
"Its not me," she started, looking at her friend hopefully. "Its
Zarah, I am worried about her." Were it not for the look in her eyes,
he would have been sure she was joking. Zarah, while heavily self-
guarded, seemed to be the strongest person around. Of course,
Dreamwind knew from personal experience that the strongest fell the
furthest. Within the barest seconds of hearing her name, his mind had
a complete mental image of her, and was replaying all of the
conversations they had had at various times. DW liked Zarah very much,
but had not been granted the pleasure of really getting to know her.
His mind stopped the playback at a single cryptic message she had
graced him with once in converstaion: "the cradle will fall." In
typical Zarah style she had walked away without explanation. He hoped
against hope that cradle was still intact.
"Grant me the story, darling Shallsee. I hast no idea how I might
help, but I shall do all I can." The relief on her face was evident.
DW welcomed it, and set his mind to recording the events of the past
weeks, complete with Shallsee's voice, as narrator. From the first
Sim, to the nervous breakdown, Dreamwind with perfect clarity, could
see everything described to him. He had known about the Sim's, (not
much escaped the Circle's ears) and though they had always worried
him, he kept his voice quiet. He knew he would not be able to contain
his arguments against these simulations any longer, not after this.
He sat in silence for a few moments after Shallsee had finished
recounting all the details. In his mind, he placed two images. One of
Zarah, one of Catherine, side by side. Based on what he knew, he let
his imagination take the reigns.
(From Catherine's body grew vines that tangled all around Zarah.
The vines pulled taut, and the two figures became one. Zarah's
physical appearance did not change, but it was clear even by the way
she stood, that she was different. DW played with the image for
another minute; the revelation took him by storm. His mind raced, spun
madly. For a very brief instant, he saw all that Shallsee had not told
him. Much like himself, Zarah had closed herself to the possibilities
of love, of the dream. And now, as she slowly became Catherine, and
was forced to see that which she insisted upon denying herself...well,
Dreamwind could see a maelstrom in the making.)
He had a thought, it wasn't well formed yet, but he had one all
the same. He stood behind his desk, and leaned forward onto the heavy
glass before him. "Does she know thou hast talked to me?" A quick
shake of the head was his answer. "I dost assume you wish it to remain
as such?"
This time a nod in response. "Well then, it seems as I shall have
to place mineself in the path of the storm. Summon me Micheal, if thou
wouldst. He is near enough to me, that he might tell me of his own
accord. All I dost need, is for him to give me any reason to concern,
and I shalt have mine entry." Shallsee nodded, and stood, the thanks
in her eyes was plainly evident.
"You have an idea?" she asked as she gripped the doorknob in her
hand, half turned toward her friend. DW nodded, and forced a thin
smile.
"Dreamscape."
