The Dream Eater

Chantelle is day-dreaming again.  Her dream eater has been gone for a long time and now the nightmares follow her through the waking hours like lovesick puppies.  Currently she is flying down the hall pell-mell and I jump back and flatten myself against the row of lockers as she tears around the corner.  

The tornado comes next, its vortex spinning in hot pursuit as it narrows the gap and closes in on her.  I clench my folder tightly to my chest and turn my back on the thing as it passes.  Even so it nearly rips the folder from my hands.  It’s bad enough that my hair is now a mess of tangles, adorned with random bits of debris from the twister.  But at least my homework is safe.  I’m one missed assignment away from failing Miss Aja’s class.  It’s not that I don’t like it – I do.  It’s just that the work that she assigns is pointless.  

I shrug and make my way down the hall, ducking in through the open classroom door with relief.  

Chantelle is in this class too but I doubt she’ll show today.  Miss Aja would probably dock her points if she brought the tornado along.  

My dream eater is reliable, but then again I feed it regularly.  I need to remind Chantelle of this.  She never lets the dark thoughts in; her dreams are mostly harmless – the kind where you’re sitting in the booth with your friends drinking milkshakes.  

My dreams always start out that way but then as I’m sipping my milkshake the cute waiter walks by and I make eye contact with him, only then he morphs into a giant ladder and I climb slowly, rung by rung, only to realize that now I’m stuck, suspended on an impossibly tiny ledge up near the ceiling and the ladder has disappeared.  And as the vertigo threatens to send me over the edge my friends below don’t notice; instead, they become sublime cliffs that enclose a valley whose floor is so far below that I can barely make out the treetops.  

“Help!” I scream, but no sound issues from my lips.  

As soon as the dream eater has eaten its fill I wake up.  Sometimes a hazy recollection lingers near the edge of my awareness, but the dream eater gobbles up even this and before I know it I’m moving around, going about my day.  

I need to remind Chantelle that we all carry dark thoughts, nightmare thoughts.  She thinks that giving hers to the dream eater will only feed them and make them stronger – make the world a bad place.  I try to tell her otherwise but she doesn’t believe me.  Then again, she’s being chased by a monstrous tornado.  


Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!  


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