Steven Harper - Nightmare

Kendi brought the image of the cave firmly into his mind. He could almost feel the sandy floor beneath his feet, feel the cool air, see the bright paintings, smell the campfire smoke. Whispering voices swirled around him in a strange wind. The arched roof, the entrance tunnel, the ring of stones around the fire.

A subtle shift came over the space around his body. There was a sense of vastness, an echoing space. Kendi’s eyes opened and he gasped in utter astonishment. He was standing in the cave. It was absolutely real. The cave was dim, just as he had imagined it, with a single beam of sunlight stabbing down from the hole in the high roof. A smoldering fire lay at the bottom of the sunbeam, and the sharp smell of wood smoke tanged the air. Kendi made a strangled noise, and it echoed about the cave. His bare feet whispered over dry sand as he staggered around the cave. It was big enough to park a dozen cars in, and at least five stories tall. And it felt safe.

Kendi whooped with glee and hugged himself as the sound caromed wildly off stone walls. He had done it! He had entered the Dream!

Something touched him. Kendi froze for a moment, then spun around. The touch hadn’t been a physical one. It was something else. Someone was walking toward him, and he could feel the footsteps on the ground as if the sand were his own skin. It frightened him at first, but then he knew, somehow he knew, that the touch was friendly, even familiar. A shadow moved in the tunnel that lead into the cave, and instantly Kendi knew who it was. He turned to the entrance and pressed fingertips to forehead.

"Father Ched-Hisak," he said. "I’m here."

A Ched-Balaar stepped into the cave, his head low on his serpentine neck. His blond-brown fur gleamed in the castoff sunlight from the center of the cave, and his eyes were wide and happy. He opened his mouth to speak, and Kendi braced himself for a dizzying barrage of clattering teeth and strangely-toned hooting. He had been studying the Ched-Balaar language for a year, but his understanding was severely limited. Conversing without a translator would be difficult, but he would manage. They would-

"I congratulate you, Kendi Weaver," Father Ched-Hisak said a in clear voice. "You have made yourself a fine place in the Dream."

Kendi stared, fingertips still on his forehead.

"You are surprised to understand me?" Father Ched-Hisak said, amused. "But you know to speak in the Dream is a mere exchange of ideas. You read my thoughts but you hear them as words."

"I forgot, Father," Kendi admitted. "So to you I’m chattering my teeth?"

"Indeed. You have a strange accent, but intelligible at every word. Come, then. I want to see the world you have created."

He took Kendi’s hand. Father Ched-Hisak’s palm was firm and soft as suede. That was when Kendi noticed he was naked. He looked down at himself uncertainly. Father Ched-Hisak noticed.

"You may wear anything you like," he said. "Your clothing is unimportant to such as I, but if it is important to you, then only think of what you want to be wearing and it will be so."

Instantly, Kendi was clothed in a knee-length shorts and a simple shirt. This, however, felt wrong, confining. He realized that in this place he didn’t want to wear clothing at all, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to continue appearing naked in front of Father Ched-Hisak. His clothing wavered, shrank, expanded, and shrank again until Kendi settled on a simple loincloth.

Father Ched-Hisak ducked his head in approval. "Now. This is your safe place, the place in the Dream where no one may enter unless you allow such. The tunnel I entered led me inward from your public place, where you will eventually conduct business. Please. Here in this part of the Dream you must lead me. It is more polite."

Heart beating with exultation and excitement, Kendi lead Father Ched-Hisak up the tunnel. It was just tall enough for him to stand upright, though it was pitch black. Kendi wished he had a torch or something, and in an instant he held one in his hand. He was so startled, he almost dropped it.

"You must take care," Father Ched-Hisak warned. "Here in the Dream, thoughts become reality."

The tunnel formed a spiral that lead up and out. After a few moments of walking, the spiral ended and Kendi found himself standing on a flat, rocky plain that stretched before him from horizon to horizon. Scrubby plants and ground-hugging vegetation made green-brown patches here and there. Voices whispered on the breeze, and Kendi knew they were other Silent, present but not visible to him, or he to them. Behind him rose a high cliff that seemed to touch the pure azure sky. A falcon cried overhead and dove toward the ground. A moment later, it rose again with a small animal wriggling in its talons. It was the Outback, exactly as Kendi remembered it. For the first time, it felt like home. And somewhere out there, his mother waited for him. He had but to find her.

"Come," Father Ched-Hisak said. "Show me this place."

Kendi squeezed the alien’s hand and stepped with joy into his own Dream.

Ben sat on the floor in the corner of the living room and looked longingly at his bedroom door. It was shut, and he had firm orders from Mom that it was to stay that way, with Ben on this side of it. Ben shifted uncomfortably and took a sip of his drink, trying to look interested in his surroundings when he would far rather have been somewhere, anywhere, else.

The house and balcony were crowded with teenage students, teachers from the monastery, and even a few Ched-Balaar. Conversation, both murmured and loud, filled every corner. The dining room table was laden with food and drink, and the computer played bright music from every speaker in the house. Paper Festival lanterns hung from the eaves, granting cheerful yellow light to the balmy summer darkness, and the house was filled with Festival flowers, banners, and decorations. The biggest banner said, Congratulations Jeren, Kendi, Kite, amp; Willa.

Ben hated parties, especially ones like this, where he didn’t know much of anyone. The guests were all Silent, and they didn’t often mingle with the non-Silent. There was no rule about this-it just happened that way. Ben supposed it made sense. The Silent all had something in common, so why wouldn’t they tend to stick together?

There were actually many more non-Silent on Bellerophon than Silent. However, Bellerophon’s economy centered around the Children of Irfan. In the shadow of the ecological disasters that had befallen Earth, mining, farming, and talltree harvesting were all strictly regulated. Most of what the planet produced was used by its own populace. As a result, Bellerophon’s economy depended on the income brought in by the Children of Irfan in order to obtain the goods and services Bellerophon couldn’t produce for itself. The Children of Irfan, in turn, depended on the non-Silent for food, clothing, medicine, and other necessities. It was an equitable arrangement which, in theory, fostered an atmosphere of tolerance and respect between Silent and non-Silent alike.

It didn’t, however, necessarily foster a lot of friendships. Ben lived among the Silent, attended some classes with them, but he had no friends among them. Come to that, he had no real friends even among the non-Silent. Sure, he knew people at school, but no one well enough to invite to a party, especially a Silent party.

All four of the slaves Mom had rescued last year had managed to enter the Dream. The last one, a guy named Kendi, had done it the day before yesterday, and Mom had decided to change family tradition and throw a party on Festival to celebrate. Ben, however, suspected an ulterior motive. Mom knew very well that Ben wasn’t very social, and he was sure she was hoping he’d make some friends. Festival-time of new beginnings. As a result, Ben sat stubbornly in a corner and refused to talk to anyone, except as politeness required. He knew he was being contrary, but he couldn’t seem to help it.