Stonecaster Chapter five

[joegoda]

He woke up in a soft bed, wide and white and fluffy pillows under his head. Quiet and diffused light filtered down from florescent lights embedded in the ceiling. "What the hell?" he thought. He didn't receive an answer.

He raised a hand to brush an itch away from his brow and found his arms restrained by long wire leads that led off to a machine that was blinking furiously, albeit silently. He wrinkled his forehead and discovered that the itch was caused by a crown of tiny suction cups. He was dressed in t-shirt and jeans and from another room he could hear a voices.

"Hello?" His voice was croaky and soft. He tried again. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

A man's head popped into the doorway. He too, was dressed in t-shirt and jeans and wearing steel framed eyeglasses over large blue eyes. His head was almost bald, but not quite, because a ring of brown hair ringed from ear tip to ear tip. "Steve! We didn't expect you back so soon."

'Steve?', he thought. Aloud, he asked, "Who's Steve?"

The man smiled gently and shouted back through the doorway, "He's back and he's suffering some disassociation. He wants to know who Steve is."

The man came over and began to gently remove the sticky probes from 'Steve's' head. "Okay, because I know this is a bit odd for you and maybe a bit scary, I'll start from the beginning." He swabbed the remaining adhesive away with a square of medical cotton and removed the leads from Steve's arms. "My name is Hugh and..."

Hugh! "You're the voice in my head!" Steve, sat up and furiously rubbed the itchy spots on his scalp.

Hugh nodded. "I guess you would say I am, at least when you're in Dreamland."

"Dreamland..." The name caused a chain reaction in his mind. "I'm Steve! Steve Fletcher!"

A voice, soft and feminine, came from the doorway behind Hugh. "I would say so," she said, and she laughed.

She, the owner of the voice, was tall and willowy, with long brown hair and deep green eyes. Her nose was delicate and narrow, but when she got angry, Steve remembered, her nostrils would flair like a horse's. She had a pointed chin and pointed ears and Steve remembered one of the ways to make her angry was to remind her that she looked like an elf. Jeanie... she was Jean, his sister and Hugh's wife.

"Hi, Jeanie." Steve said.

Jean moved past Hugh and sat on his bed. She wrinkled her brow in concern and it showed in her voice. "How are you kiddo. You had us a bit worried there. You were gone a long time this time."

"This time?" Steve pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the bed. "Wait a sec, sis. My mind is still fuzzy, okay?"

"Not too long, kid. I want to document what you saw and where you were." Jean stood up and the rocking of the bed made Steve feel a bit queasy. "I'll get you something to settle you. I'll bet your electrolytes are going haywire." she left the room, saying "Be right back."

"Yep," Hugh said to his wife over his shoulder. He was examining something over at the blinking machine. He had a spike at minute six, another 20 minutes in and a really, really big one at hour thirty. Then, Steve, right before we pulled you out, there was one that went off the charts." He blinked his eyes at the readout. "That was what rang the alarm bells. I'm wondering what you saw too, while you were over there."

"But Hugh," Steve protested, "you were there. You really were the voice in my head. I heard you as plain as I hear you now."

Hugh's round face pulled inward, which was his look when he was deeply thoughtful. Jean kidded him and called it his 'squicked' look.

"Steve, it's impossible that you heard my voice while you were dreaming. Besides, other than checking in on you from time to time, and pulling you out when the alarms rang, I wasn't even in here. You were alone."

"Hum." Steve said, pondering and working to clear the cobwebs from his mind. Jean came back, carrying a glass of yellow liquid.

"Drink this," she demanded, all big sister-like. "It's lemonade with some special ingredients to get you back on your feet." She handed the glass to Steve, who drank it obediently.

"Yuck," he said. "It tastes like you put Tabasco sauce in it."

Jean nodded, smiling. "Pretty close, bro. I'd tell you what it was, but then I'd have to kill you."

"Well, whatever it is, it's helping." Steve finished the glass. "Thanks, sis."

"De nada," she said, taking the glass when Steve was done.

"Jean," Hugh said, "I appreciate you trying to bring light and laughter to the situation, but I'd like to find out what Steve saw while he was dreaming." He pulled up a white straight backed chair and sat next to the bed.

Speaking to Steve, he said, "I mean, the last couple of times, you were gone for only a few minutes, woke naturally and told us that you saw pretty colors and heard music. Do you remember that?" Hugh tapped a cheap ink pen against the top of a clipboard he was carrying.

"The last couple of times," Steve mused aloud, thinking and remembering. "Let's see... the last couple of times we monitored my dreams, they were pretty fuzzy. Not quite dreams at all, from what I remember." He rubbed his temples, trying to pull up any details from the past.

The tapping was rhythmic and Steve found himself becoming sleepy and a quiet buzzing was forming at the back of his head.

"Hugh," Jean said softly and gently, placing a hand on Hugh's shoulder. "could you quit tapping? It's putting Steve to sleep. Remember, honey? That's the trigger. He's still posthypnotic, I think."

"Oh!" Hugh put the pen into his pocket. "Terribly sorry, chum. I wasn't thinking." He looked away, briefly, his round race flushing red with embarrassment. "Steve, I'm going to count back from five to zero. When I reach zero, I will snap my fingers and you will be fully awake, feeling refreshed and able to recall all details of your dream. You will not be affected by a tapping sound until the next time you have been hypnotized and that specific command has been given. Do you understand?"

"Sure, Hugh," Steve said quietly. "Start the countdown."

Once Hugh said the word 'zero' and had snapped his fingers, Steve found all of his memories flooding back. His name was, indeed, Steve Fletcher, and he was 25 years old. He and Hugh... Hugh Long, his sister's husband, had started doing dream research after Steve had mentioned some incredibly vivid dreams he had been having.

In fact, one of the dreams was not only vivid, but long lived. Every night for three years, when Steve would go to sleep, his dreaming would pick up right at the spot where the last dream left off. Steve's name for these incredibly vivid dreams were 'Real Dreams' and when the same Real Dream ran on for a number of nights, he called this a case of Serial Dreams.

It was Hugh's idea to start monitoring the brain activity during Steve's sleep, and to rig an alarm just in case the activity became too intense. Jean was to document each dream or anything that Steve would say during the dream state.

All Steve had to do was dream.

"Okay, yeah." Steve yawned. "The previous dreams were pretty boring, as far as dreams go. Maybe it was the leads sticking to my forehead or the fact that I couldn't move my arm, but who knows." He shrugged. "This last one, though, it was pretty intense."

"Was it similar to any you've had before?" Hugh asked.

Jean was scribbling furiously on a big yellow legal pad. She refused to use a laptop, saying that it took away from the art form. "What art form?" Steve chided her. Jean just humphed for a reply and continued using her legal pads.

Steve shook his head. "No. This wasn't a place I had ever been before. This was..." he searched for the words. "Medieval, like. Sort of a dragon and dungeony sort of place. I mean, there was this guy, Bert. He is the King's Beekeeper. And there were the King's men, who were sort of like shadowy figures that didn't really exist. And there was me."

"You?" Jean looked up. "You were different?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah, lots. For one thing, I didn't remember who I was. Hugh, the voice in my head, told me that my name was Peter... Peter... umm... dammit, I can't remember." He grimace from a shooting pain in his head.

"It's okay, Stevie," Jean said, looking at him with sisterly concern. She looked over at Hugh. "Were you talking to him during his dreams?"

Hugh shook his head negatively. "Nope, not me. I was with you the whole time, honeybunch." To Steve he said, "Tell us about this dream voice... the one you called Hugh."

Steve nodded again, and said, "Well... this voice, Hugh is what I called him, or what he called himself. I don't know! Dammit!"

Jean put the pencil down and said soothingly. "Calm little brother, calm. It'll come, just let the dream flow back."

Steve looked at Hugh imploringly. "Can't you just put me under and make me recall it?"

Hugh nodded. "Sure, I could do that, but from what we've seen previously, you'd just fall back into another dream. Besides, part of this research is about what these Real Dreams affect in your real life. Like just now, when you couldn't remember who you were. So, rather than muck it all up by giving you perfect recall, I think we should just stick with your frustration and see where it gets us." He smiled meanly. "Besides, I like seeing you all worked up. It's good for my ego."

"What ego," Jean said to her husband. "You just like to put the magnifying glass to the ants, that's all this is." Leaning forward to her brother, she said, "Go on, Steve. Hugh's right, you know. We want to know what parts of the dream come forward while your awake."

Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah. It'd be easier, though if I was put under." He waited, hopeful that someone would rescue him, and then after a few seconds he realized he was on his own. He sighed again."

"I remember that I must have fallen," he continued. "Bert found me, or so he said, at the base of this big tree. He thought I was one of the bug people."

"Bug people?" Hugh exclaimed. "What the heck are bug people?"

Steve raised his hand. "Just a sec, okay? I'll get there. Bert was going on about the King's men and how he, the King that is, wouldn't like it for someone strange to be tramping about his forest. Bert was afraid that the King's men would be coming, so we took off for his home. We only got about a thousand yards when there was this hazy sort of fog that appeared, and there were these shapes in it. Bert told me they were the King's men, but I'm here to tell you that they didn't look like men to me. They looked like some sort of mutant army, all arms and legs and if they had heads with faces, I couldn't see them. But they sure as heck scared Burt, and they sure as heck scared me, too. Nasty stuff in the place, for sure."

Steve went silent for a second, and then exploded with "Peter Felenious! My name over there was Peter Felenious. I remember saying that I was a traveling entertainer." He scratched his head gently where it still itched. "Sis, could I get some more of that horrible yellow crap?"

"Sure, Stevie," Jean said, putting down her legal pad, "but don't say anything more till I get back, okay?"

Once Jean was out of the room, Steve leaned toward Hugh. "It was scary Hugh. I was like I wasn't dreaming at all, but was really there. That this Peter guy was the one alive and I was just sort of... riding in his head. I'm telling you, those King's men about made me mess my shorts."

"I told you to wait until I got back!" Jean hurrying in from the other room and handed the glass to Steve. Turning to Hugh, she asked, "What did I miss? Anything juicy?"

"Nope," he said, "just Steve saying how scared he was over there. And how strange this dream was. So, Steve, was that different in this dream than the other Real Dreams you've had? That you felt like you weren't really there?"

Steve swallowed hard, getting the liquid out of his mouth before he continued. "Yuck. Nasty in a glass, but it sure helps. Thanks, sis." He handed the glass back to Jean. "No, you misunderstand me. I was there, really there, but it seemed like I was living in the head with him." He shook his head. "No, that's not right, either. God, it's frustrating to explain."

He fell silent, but before either of the other two could interrupt him, he went on. "Think of it like this: I was there, at least it was me in the dream, so I could see and hear and interact with everything that was going on. I just couldn't remember it was me; Steve, that is. This Peter guy, he wasn't sure who he was either. Claimed he couldn't remember who he was, so he made up this character on the fly, this traveling performer character. So, here we both were, in the same head, and neither of us could remember anything about who we were."

Hugh nodded. "Interesting. Maybe the trauma of having you 'pop in', as it were, caused this other Peter to lose his memory."

Jean put down her pencil. "Listen to you two! You act as if this was a real place and not just a dream!"

Hugh grimaced, putting on his squicked face. "Honeybun, that's what we're trying to figure out. When Steve has a Real Dream, is he dreaming of a real place? Does he somehow migrate from here to there, leaving his body here? Everything that Steve has talked about for the past ten years indicate that he may very well be living, at least part time, in a very real place."

Jean harrumphed. "It was just a dream, anyway."

Steve reached over the length of the bed. "Sis, this is something that's important to me, okay? I mean, if you had been having these sort of dreams, you'd want to know, too. I know you would. You're just a curious as I am." He smiled. "Admit it. You wanna know, too."

Jean was quiet for a moment or two, then nodded. "You're right, I am. It's just that it's so... weird, you know? Spooky and scary and it just weirds me out." She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Okay. I'm okay. Go on. You and this other guy were sharing the same head."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, but it was more than that. It was like... Like we were room-mates and the same person at the same time. Like a..." He snapped his fingers. "Like a split personality! Yeah, just like that."

"Hum," Hugh hummed and looked over meaningfully at Jean.

Jean shrugged. "As far as I know, there's not been any indication that Steve has ever had multiple personality syndrome."

Hugh shrugged back. "Okay, let's say it was like a split personality and go with that."

Steve said, defensively, "Hey! I studied for a bit in college. In a multiple personality, there's one personality that is usually the dominant one, and the others are submerged. The dominant in some cases is aware of the other personalities, but the more submissive personalities are rarely aware of the dominant."

Hugh nodded. "Okay, granted. But where does this Hugh character come in? Could he be the dominant?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't think so. Hugh... the voice in my head... seemed to have done this at least once before. I remember him noting that he was a young man 'this time'. I have no idea who he is or what role he plays in the dream."

He got an odd look on his face, puzzled and far away. "Sis... did I have a dog when I was a kid?"

Jean shook her head. "Are you kidding? No way would dad have let you have a dog. 'Too much money wasted on something you wouldn't take care of anyway.' Don't you remember him saying that?"

Steve frowned, making his already puzzled face look neanderthal. "I didn't think I had a dog. Peter didn't remember it either. Hugh said it was something from far away."

"What are bug people?" Hugh asked.

"What?" Steve was startled out of his thoughts.

"You said that Bert thought you were a bug person. What is or are bug people?"

Steve shrugged. "I don't know. From the description that Bert gave, they were aliens from outer space, come to steal his honey."

"Steal his honey?" Jean snorted a laugh.

"Yeah," Steve smiled wanly. "Did I mention that Bert was a beekeeper? Anyway, he thought I was a bug person in disguise and so once we got to his house, he had this big plant like thing tie me up and he started to interrogate me, torturing me by feeding me honey. Hugh, the voice in my head, said 'This can't be good', and then I guess you woke me up."

"Big plant thing?" Jean asked.

"I didn't wake you up," Hugh said.

"What?" Steve asked. "You said the alarms had gone off. I thought you woke me up."

"Not me," Hugh admitted. "When the alarms went off, I came in, and checked your vitals to make sure you weren't having a seizure or something. You looked okay, vitals were normal and the spike has smoothed back to normal. The first thing I knew of you being awake was you calling out. Remember?" Hugh raised his hands away from his sides. "I wasn't even in the room."

"Big plant thing?" Jean repeated.

"Yeah,sis, big plant thing," Steve said sharply. "Looked like a giant stalk of asparagus, bout as tall as you, but with big viney arms. gives a heck of a hug." To Hugh, he asked, "So, you didn't wake me up."

"Already established that, chum," Hugh said, shaking his head. "I was watching television. There's been an eruption somewhere near Alaska. It's all over the news."

"Huh." Steve grew silent and pondered. "I guess I woke myself up, then. Still I wish I knew what had happened next. I would really like to know how Peter got out of that mess."

"Maybe it'll be one of your serial dreams, Stevie," Jean said. "Like that post-apocalyptic one you had? That really long one?"

"Maybe," Steve considered. "Maybe when I go to sleep tonight, I'll end up right back there, but hopefully out of the arms of Evelyn."

"Who?" Hugh asked.

"Evelyn's the name of Bert's pet asparagus, Hugh," Steve explained. "The one that had me captive right before I woke up."

"Oh," Hugh's eyes blinked owlishly. "Okay."

"I'm hungry." Steve hopped off the bed. "What's for dinner, sis?"