Book of Dreams Chapter Three Birth of a Hero Matt pulled the car into the curb in front of Kyle’s rundown, single-storey terrace. The overgrown vegetation in the tiny front garden was beginning to envelop the house; Kyle had never cut it back because he liked the privacy it provided. The rent on the place was cheap, as the building should really have been condemned. In fact, it was probably only the weeds that held the structure together. ‘I’ll catch ya.’ Kyle waved to Matt and closed the car door behind him. Although the rain was pouring down, he didn’t run for shelter. Kyle found the large, cool droplets beating down upon his body invigorating. Overhead, a large dark cloud seemed to rumble and looking up, Kyle was amazed to see a bolt of lightning lash out and strike the ground somewhere in the vicinity of his porch. ‘Awesome! Did you see that?’ As he swung round quickly to catch Matt’s reaction, the car took off up the road. ‘I guess not.’ Kyle opened the rusty old gate and fought his way through the jungle to investigate the spot where the lightning had hit. At the top of the steps, on the small porch, Kyle could see a brown paper parcel and for the slightest moment he could have sworn that a small, brown, furry creature, no taller than ten centimetres, was seated atop the package – as if guarding it. A spear in one hand, it appeared to be not unlike a small bear. It stood erect and had horns protruding from the brow of its rather ugly, flat face. Upon discovery, however, it jumped down behind the parcel and out of sight. Kyle dashed up the steps and grabbed the package, half expecting to expose the little beast. ‘One of these days,’ he mumbled, finding nothing. From as far back as Kyle dared to remember, he’d been visited by these unearthly creatures. Over the course of several unsympathetic sets of foster parents, he’d been beaten or drugged into believing they were imaginary. He recalled conversations with some of them when he was very young. Most were tiny, but Kyle recalled one in particular that had seemed like an absolute giant to a three year old. Nevertheless, the monster hadn’t intimidated Kyle; rather, he recalled having a fast friendship with the beast he called Ron. That is, until he’d been forced to take pills that made Ron and all the little monsters go away. These days Kyle’s only interest in them was for their artistic value – they made great subject matter for sketching. With the defining features of the creature committed to his memory, Kyle’s attention turned to the parcel in his hands. There was no postage stamp attached, no mailing address or sender’s details. All that was written upon it was ‘Kyle’. * * * After consuming half a microwave pizza and a couple of cans of bourbon and coke, Kyle took up the joint he’d made while waiting for the food to cook. It was a large Bob Marley number, which he sniffed and rolled in his fingers like a fine cigar, before he placed it between his lips and struck up a light. Kyle puffed away merrily for a few moments, then, finding his inspiration, he took up his pad and pencil and began to sketch. After a while, Kyle became aware that he was frowning; his head had shrunk into his shoulders and he was feeling genuinely agitated. ‘Rap music,’ he shuddered, hitting the off button on the television remote. As he looked around for the stereo remote, his eyes fell upon the brown paper parcel that he’d dropped in the other armchair on his way inside. ‘Oh, yeah.’ In his rush to get bent and sketch the critter while it was still fresh in his mind, Kyle had forgotten all about the package. He reached for it and stripped away the soggy paper to find an old leather bound book in beautiful condition. Kyle’s eyes lit up as he ran his fingers across its cover, for worked into the green leather were images of strange creatures and beings the like of which had plagued him as a youth. ‘Righteous, man, this is cool.’ He smiled briefly before searching for a card or a note, but there was none. ‘Only Matt knows abut my Otherworldly interests.’ Matt knew Kyle liked to sketch weird creatures; he just didn’t know Kyle saw them on a regular basis. Kyle hadn’t risked telling anyone about them since his childhood. ‘Has to be from him.’ Kyle tossed the wet paper aside. The title page nearly took Kyle’s breath away: Book of Dreams it read, in an iridescent lettering that made the words appear to sink to an infinite depth. Around the lettering were depictions of the creatures that Kyle had dawn all his life. In fact, they were exactly the sketches that currently lined the walls of the house. ‘This is impossible,’ Kyle mumbled, raising the book to compare it with the images on his wall. The pictures were identical, although the size and colours differed. ‘No way … Matt couldn’t have done this without me finding out. No way.’ He sank onto the lounge, excited and spooked. Such moments of mystery were what made life worth living in Kyle’s opinion, as it was with the unexplainable that he’d always felt most at home. Turning over the cover of the book he encountered a blank first page. Flicking through all the pages, Kyle found they were blank. ‘Must be a sketchbook,’ he deduced, and the thought of filling the pages with images made him smile. He ran his fingers over the embossed leather cover as his eyelids began to droop. A loud pounding on the door startled Kyle awake, and he sat up too quickly for his hangover. ‘Ouch’. He refrained from further movement, to soothe his splitting headache, but as the pounding on the door only amplified the pain in his brain, Kyle rose to answer it. ‘This had better be important, Matt.’ He opened the door to find his friend positively beaming with excitement. ‘You finally got laid?’ Kyle took a guess as to the reason for his mate’s good cheer. ‘Better!’ Matt played up the suspense as he backed Kyle out of the way and headed inside. ‘I got a break,’ he informed Kyle, once granted entry. ‘It was like a gift from God or something! I’m driving home through the city when I come across all these police cars, television crews and shit … there’s this big siege going on! A couple of police had been shot, along with a Channel Nine cameraman who got too close to the action. Risking life and limb, I helped pull the injured people from danger.’ Matt ducked and weaved as he spoke and then stopped to scratch his head. ‘Well, actually, I rescued the camera. I wanted to check it out before they had a chance to reclaim it. There was so much going on that no one even noticed until it was all over.’ Kyle lost interest in Matt’s tale and flopped back onto the lounge. ‘Wow, amazing … you got to hold a real camera. Whopee!’ ‘I’m not finished yet.’ Matt sat on the coffee table in front of Kyle. ‘I placed the camera on my shoulder, to get a feel for it. And at that precise moment, the gunman exited the building with his hostage in tow and attempted to flee. I aimed the camera at him and kept rolling.’ Matt paused and grinned. ‘I got the morning lead and two hundred bucks cash … the producer loved me for it!’ Kyle was astonished for a moment, but then his jealousy took hold. ‘I don’t believe it! Why is everything so easy for you?’ He stood to vent his frustration. ‘You decide you want to be a current affairs cameraman and the next day you’re shooting the lead story.’ ‘Yeah. What are the chances, eh?’ Matt couldn’t wipe the smile off his face; even he couldn’t believe his luck in this instance. ‘What’s the time?’ He noted the hour on the video player. ‘My story should be on soon.’ He switched on the television and searched for the right channel. ‘You really shit me, you know that?’ Kyle wandered into the kitchenette to make coffee. ‘Yeah, I know,’ Matt retorted, unfazed by Kyle’s mood. ‘I really work hard at it, too.’ As Kyle poured the coffee, he remembered the book that Matt had left on his doorstep and decided that he really couldn’t continue in this disgruntled state. ‘Thanks for the present, by the way. I gather I’m supposed to use it for sketching?’ ‘What present?’ came Matt’s reply. ‘I haven’t bought you anything. I’ve been saving all my spare funds to buy my own camera.’ Coffees in hand, Kyle returned to the lounge and handed a mug to Matt. ‘You didn’t send me that book?’ Kyle pointed at the floor, where the gift had dropped from his lap the night before. ‘What book?’ Matt replied, as clearly there was nothing there. ‘Where the hell is it?’ Placing his mug on the table, Kyle got down on all fours to hunt up the missing article, tossing aside rubbish, scraps of paper and articles of clothing in his search. ‘It was right here! I’m sure it was.’ ‘Forget it.’ Matt directed Kyle to the news report on the television screen. ‘Check this out.’ He pumped up the volume to hear the newsman at the desk saying, ‘The siege lasted most of last night, with five people injured, including one of our own cameramen. The gunman attempted to shoot his way out of the building at around twelve-thirty at night.’ The broadcast ran Matt’s footage. A little shaky at first, the camera steadied to show a gunman running from the building with a hostage, shooting at police in his attempt to flee. The camera zoomed in on the gunman as police officers overpowered him and the hostage escaped unharmed. ‘This footage was shot by a brave young passerby,’ the voice-over continued, ‘who pulled the camera out of the firing line and filmed these events as they unfolded around him.’ A shot of an exhilarated Matt being interviewed after the event came to the screen. ‘I’ve wanted to shoot news for a long time,’ he explained. ‘A long time!’ Kyle scoffed at the lie. ‘I didn’t have time to think about what was happening really. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.’ ‘You look like a total dork,’ commented Kyle, inwardly green with jealousy, as he took a roach fro the ashtray and lit it up. ‘Now there’s a young man with a big future ahead of him,’ commented the newsman before moving on to the next story of the day. Matt hadn’t even heard Kyle’s dig. He punched his mate on the shoulder, impressed with himself. ‘Hear that?’ ‘Yeah, I heard.’ Kyle offered the half a joint to Matt, who screwed up his face. ‘I can’t … gotta stay alert. Some of the guys offered to show me round the station this morning.’ ‘Your loss.’ Kyle dragged hard on the roach to hide his envy. Matt shrugged rather than voice disagreement and didn’t comment on Kyle’s obvious lack of excitement. ‘Well, I gotta motor. I want to grab a shower and get cleaned up before I head down to the station.’ He rose, while Kyle wreathed himself in a cloud of smoke. ‘Wish me luck.’ Matt fished his car keys form his back pocket and made for the door. ‘Why?’ Kyle retorted, raising himself from the lounge to see Matt out. ‘You obviously don’t need any. It’s you who should be wishing me luck … I’m the one who’s got to face the dole office today.’ ‘Oh yeah.’ Matt recalled Kyle had been fired the day before. ‘Well, good luck.’ He attempted a little good cheer. As soon as he closed the door, Kyle regretted putting a downer on his friend’s good news. ‘Why can’t I just be happy for him? At least one of us is making something of his life.’ Deep down, his lack of purpose haunted him. Everyone likes to think they are special, different from everyone else, but Kyle knew that he was different. He kept expecting that one day his purpose would be made known, and then his luck would change. Perhaps he’d find out that his father was a millionaire who’d been searching for his long-lost son for twenty years, or a secret service agent who’d been trapped in a foreign country, which would be acceptable too. ‘Yeah right.’ Kyle mocked his own delusions, and wandered back to the lounge room. ‘He was a devil worshipper more like, and that’s why I am constantly being confronted by creatures from –' Kyle was startled to find the missing book on the lounge room table. ‘… hell.’ His eyes drifted back to the front door. Was Matt playing a trick – could he have put the book there when he wasn’t looking? As Kyle’s attention returned to the book, he noted it was open at the introduction. What had been a blank page the night before was now filled with text. ‘Impossible,’ he mumbled, circling the mysterious item at a distance. ‘Am I losing my mind?’ He considered this thought momentarily. ‘I know I’ve always hated reading, but this is ridiculous!’ He planted himself in front of the book to admire the amazing text. It was a veritable rainbow of colourful calligraphy, so original in its formation that one would have thought it handwritten, but the way the text glimmered and continually changed colour Kyle knew it couldn’t possibly have come from any pen he had ever encountered. ‘How could I have missed this?’ He flicked through the pages, now all inscribed with the colourful text. ‘All of it! I must have been gone!’ With a shake of his head, he began to read. We bid you welcome, young Kyle. Taken aback at being addressed directly, Kyle paused a second and then decided, ‘Hey, nice touch.’ It has been brought to our attention that you seem to be completely lost. If you wish to come to know what it is that constantly eludes you in life … I am your transport to seek within. ‘Matt, you ham, this has to be you.’ Kyle recalled their deep talk about the psyche the previous evening, and Matt had heard plenty of the same from Kyle on the numerous occasions they’d got totalled together. Perhaps Matt had pre-emoted Kyle’s need to read a book on psychological development? Kyle reached for a warm, half empty bottle of Pepsi and took a swig before taking the book in hand to read on. However, the journey in your case will not be an easy one and I think it only fair to warn you that there is no turning back. Once you have begun such a quest, to turn back, or QUIT, would forfeit any chance you will ever have of making something of yourself. Do you accept these terms? Suddenly, the tone of the narrative was not really akin to Matt’s style any more, Kyle considered, and with this observation the words, ‘Do you accept these terms?’, turned the colour of deepest violet and held Kyle’s attention. He was considering the question seriously when a ripple travelled through the leather cover in his hands. ‘What the –’ The movement prompted Kyle to cast the book on to the table. ‘What’s going on?’ He wiped his hands down his shirt, deciding he must be imagining things. Kyle did not take the book back in hand, instead he cautiously leant forward to read on. You speak English, don’t you? What is there not to understand? The text replied. Either you don’t feel you’re up to the task, or you’ve decided it’s time to make something of yourself. In which case, turn to the next page and start to read. Now, if your consciousness can cope with that, which is it? WE’RE WAITING! The book rose from the table as the rippling motion moved through the cover once more. Kyle swallowed hard, stunned beyond rational thought. Nothing of such an extraordinary nature had happened to him in many a year and he was digging the intrigue. Yet, this extrasensory sight he’d always had was a curse: it set him apart from other people and often put him directly at odds with others. Was this instance going to prove any different? ‘Hell, I don’t think I can get in any more trouble than I have of late,’ he reasoned with himself as he carefully took the book up and placed it in his lap. The words, WE'RE WAITING, undulated with great intensity as he followed the urge to reach out and turn the page. There was a chilling movement in the cover once more and flipping the book over Kyle witnessed the creatures embossed in the leather turning to fur, feathers, scales and skin. Kyle sprang from the lounge and the bok was tossed, cover up, onto the coffee table. The small beasts emerged and began to scamper, fly, crawl and slither about the room. But then Kyle noticed a much greater anomaly. His own body was seated on the lounge engrossed in reading the book and appeared completely unaware of the commotion unfolding around him. ‘I can’t be dead,’ Kyle reasoned from a standing position beside himself whilst he curiously eyed his seated body. ‘Dead men don’t read.’ He looked down to discover that the body he was doing the observing from was slightly more transparent and colourless than his ignorant body-double on the lounge. ‘This can’t be good.’ He little creatures were making an awful racket as they explored the room, now interpenetrated by a vibrant ultra-green glow. On the coffee table sat the faintly illumed, plain leather copy of the book that the creatures had escaped from. ‘You’ll probably wish you were dead before Book gets through with you.’ The little creature that had guarded the parcel the night before took up a position on the coffee table. It had a gruff voice and the other wee creatures all stopped still at its words. ‘We are here to guide you in!’ ‘In?’ Kyle found his voice. With a nervous chuckle from all the creatures, the spokescritter pointed its spear towards the bathroom door. Slowly the door opened to disclose a dense red mist beyond. Kyle’s body was heard to laugh; he glanced at the bathroom door, and spying nothing out of the usual turned his attention back to the book he was reading. The little creatures scampered for the door, urging Kyle after them. ‘This is mad.’ Kyle looked at the creature in charge, which had jumped from the table and was making for the door. The wee beast halted, looking back at Kyle before directing him to the copy of the book on the table. ‘Bring him,’ it instructed. ‘Him?’ As he retrieved it Kyle wondered why the book had a gender. He would have asked the creature but it had disappeared into the red void that lay beyond Kyle’s bathroom door. As keen for the adventure as he was, there was a forbidding vibe about the red haze that was now fast filling his lounge room and obscuring the ultra-green glow that interpenetrated all the physical world matter around him. ‘I know.’ Kyle smiled as the obvious solution came to mind. He opened the book to find his place. ‘So, what’s in the bathroom?’ he mumbled as he scanned through the text. Your unconscious soul. Kyle’s eyes parted with wonder as, in his mind, a male voice answered. Everything that you ever wanted, or didn’t want, to know about yourself! ‘No need for a bookmark then.’ Kyle closed the book, finding the telepathic communication strange but convenient. The threatening void beyond the bathroom doorway seemed to be gaining in intensity and a stormy atmosphere whipped around Kyle and drew him in. ‘I’m dreaming, right?’ In a way. But just give the word and you can be back on the lounge with an empty book. Past this point, you must find what you seek. There is no other way back. ‘Back from where?’ Kyle appealed, struggling against the force. ‘From inside myself, where I should be right now? This is insane!’ Make the commitment, or step back. Put that way, Kyle swallowed his fear and inched forward to enter the red haze. When the door slammed closed behind him, the floor ceased to be and Kyle found himself plummeting into a red abyss.