Aaron eventually apologized to my mother after she broke down. Possibly still uncertain but knowing he couldn't really do anything about it at this point.
We pick Kate up early in the morning. She and Aaron had been talking on the phone and he told her about the academy. The drive is long and boring.
When you think of a trip to a magical battle college for people who can see into another dimension, you wouldn't imagine a boring car ride. But that's exactly what it was. Seven hours of consistently repetitive scenery and a stop for McDonalds. And the constant flirtatious cacophony that was Aaron and Kate.
I played games on my phone and took a nap to pass the time.
I think in retrospect we take the boring parts of life for granted. To be bored is to be without worry. It's simple. Comforting. The biggest issue being that there isn't enough happening to occupy your mind. The little silence of life.
But again, it's also boring.
I attempt to sleep the rest of the way. I put on my headphones and play white noise to try to drown out the conversation and music.
Sleep comes fast. At least I think it does. I never remember my dreams.
I never lucid dream.
So why am I still aware?
I try to open my eyes and sit up. But I can't. I'm still asleep. Is this sleep paralysis? Will I be accosted by a shadow creature?
"Be calm, child," A deep voice speaks out from the void. "I mean you no harm."
I freeze. And then open my mouth to respond. To my surprise, words come out.
"Who are you?"
"I go by many names."
Silence.
"…And what is your favorite?" I ask.
A laugh echoes around, and I realize my eyes aren't shut but rather there is no light.
"I have forgotten the muse that is youth. It has been some time since we last met."
Confusion. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember meeting you." I pause to think for a moment. "I don't remember my dreams that well so maybe that's why." Who, or rather what, is speaking?
"No, child. I do not mean you. I mean youth."
"Youth?"
"We are old friends."
The implications of this single statement are astounding. The somewhat-corporeal personification of an abstract concept?
"I understand your surprise." I can't see his face, but I sense he is smiling. "Perhaps when you meet him he will explain himself. It is not my place."
"Okay." I say, unsure of how to proceed. But before I can inquire about anything, he speaks again.
"Most call me 'the Dreamwalker."
"The Dreamwalker." I repeat. "You walk in dreams."
More chuckling. "That is one way to put it." He says.
"Why are you here?" I ask, still suspicious. But my empathy reconsiders."Do you need help with something?"
"I am here to prepare you." The voice says.
"Prepare me for what?"
"The rivers of this world flow and intertwine, occasionally raging in rapids when they cross paths. But they are not prepared for the vast and violent ocean to which they lead."
"What do you mean to say?" I ask, perplexed.
"All in good time, child. For now you must know we prepare. Brace yourself." He commands.
And the sound of a ripping wind sounds in my ears, but instead of a chill it feels hot instead.
I blink and it's gone, and I'm standing in a brightly lit courtyard. The sky is dark and there are no stars, but yellow lights stand tall illuminating the space. In front of me is a well dressed man in a black suit, with short hair and charming eyes.
"You don't look like I expected." I say, unsure if it was rude or not.
"I have many forms, child. Would you prefer this?" And faster than I can blink his visage transforms into that of a weathered old man rocking a great long white beard.
"Actually, yes," I reply. His earlier appearance was unsettling when paired with his voice.
"Very well. Let us begin."
He steps forward, and the hair on the back of my neck instantly spikes. With just one step I can sense danger. He takes another. It's thundering. And I stay locked in place. Another step. I feel a pressure building around me, as if I dove too deep underwater. Another step. And another. The pressure growing as he closes the distance between us.
"What's going on?" I ask, starting to panic.
"Your training begins."
And before I know it he's closed the gap. I collapse under the increased pressure, sprawling to the ground on my back. I watch the air around him distort as he leans down. The ground beneath me cracks. I feel myself crunch into the concrete.
"What will you do?" He asks. "How are you going to escape?"
I try to think, the panic in me gradually rising as I am unable to even twitch my pinky. I close my eyes and let out a deep breath. When I open my eyes again I'm met with the gaping voids that are his eyes. I was not close enough to realize at first, but now I swear I could see stars swirling around in them.
"What will you do?" He asks again.
"I don't know!" I shout, almost angrily. "I can barely blink!"
"Slow yourself child, your thinking and your emotions. Close your eyes and look inside yourself."
This old guy thinks he's in some sort of Karate Kid movie. He's insane.
"I have not seen this Karate Kid movie. We don't have movies here."
"AND you're in my head?" The pressure intensifies, as if I am being bombarded by the mighty force of a waterfall.
"Focus." He commands, his deep voice resounding in my ears.
I might as well try. I take a deep breath - or as much of one as I can, and close my eyes.
"What am I looking for?" I shout against the torrent of whatever it is that pins me to the ground.
"Your spark. Your soul."
"How am I supposed to know how to find that or even what it looks like?"
"Look."
I close my eyes and try to focus. I guide my consciousness throughout my body, like a scan of some sorts, starting at my feet and working my way up. And I notice something. A thin pulse of energy, so faint you can hardly notice it's there, but strong enough to not be just my imagination. I'm astonished.
"I found it!" I shout. "Or at least I think I did."
"Well done. Describe it."
"It's almost like a faint scar of light, right near my heart." And as I describe it, it begins to show more apparent to my senses. "Woah".
"You have gone so long with it that you have lost notice of its presence. Just like the ringing of an ear might blend and be forgotten when mixed with the cacophonous noise of life. Only in silence does it reveal itself."
As I focus on it, the light grows brighter and expands, illuminating my consciousness with a soft golden glow. And with it comes a slight heat, not in the way a stove burns but in the way you feel by entering a hot room when you've been out in the cold.
"The more you focus, the more aware of it you will become."
"Now what?" I ask, unnerved at the way his voice pierces the gale of energy that blasts down at me from his body.
"Escape."
"How?"
Silence.
Obviously it has something to do with this intangible golden scar on my heart. I close my eyes again and guide my awareness back to its warmth. And an idea flashes through my head.
I remember times when I would wrestle my brother, and he would pin me down and sit on me, preventing me from moving. I remember how every once and awhile, I would grow so fed up and angry that my chest would grow hot, and in a final burst of energy after I had stopped struggling and he had let his guard down, I would surge up and knock him off. Sometimes. It only worked occasionally.
So I stop struggling and go as limp as possible. And I wait. For a long time I just lie there amid the downpour of phantasm, although a long time could've been 30 seconds for all know.
I don't sense a change in the pressure of the force, but I'm not certain if he is the type to grow distracted or careless.
Better now than never.
I call forth that image of deep frustration, channeling that anger, focusing on it as it multiplies and begins to build in my chest.
The heat spreads throughout my body, and I surge up in a burst of energy, my conscious flashing gold.
Only to immediately get knocked back down.
The man laughs, a deep and resounding chuckle. And the relentless torrent finally relents, my skin awkward at its absence having been stuck under its might for so long.
"Very good," He says. "You are just like your father."
"My father?
"Your father."
I am silent.
"I appeared to him just like I have appeared to you."
"Why?" I ask.
"All in good time. I will leave you now. Hold on to what you have learned here. It will be useful to you soon."
And then he's gone. My surroundings fade. Everything turns to dark.
I don't wake up for a while.
But I don't dream either.