There are monsters, ghosts, supernatural things, time travel, and people with physic abilities. Everything people fear exist in our dreams. What are dreams? Many professionals say it is the key to all of our mental problems. Others think it is just a rehashing of one's day, but how many of us see monsters or go to school without pant on a daily basis? Others say we all go crazy in our sleep, it is the only thing that keeps us sane in our day to day lives.
The following are stories from my actual dreams, at least the ones that made any sense at all. I wonder what they may point out as to what I am like deep in my psyche or how crazy I would be if I did not dream.
Walk of Discovery
Where Are They
Scared to Death
“Officer Franks, Officer Franks!” shouted Mae a local bag lady. “Joe has disappeared! He has been gone since yesterday morning!”
The old veteran cop gets out of his patrol car and stretches his back, “Now Mae you know he probably just got boozed up with a buddy and passed out in their hangout.”
“No! He always comes back to me no matter how much he had to drink. Besides I saw him talking to someone in a long black coat and hat. They got into a strange black van and drove away.”
“Maybe he picked up a small job and he crashed close by so he could work again today?”
“No! He would have got word to me somehow.”
“Ok, I will keep an eye out for him. Where was this van and what kind was it?”
“They were in the alley between Fourth and Fifth at Main. I do not know what the van was, it looked like a box on wheels.”
“Most of them do anymore. I'll look into it, you just relax, he will probably show up before long.”
“Are you really going to look for an old drunk Joe?” asked his rookie partner of three weeks.
“Once you get to know your beat and the people on them, you will know which ones you need to pay close attention to. Joe and Mae maybe homeless drunks, but they are good people. They watch out for new people on the street, help the sick ones, and even help me if I am looking for anyone in the area. So, yes we are going to check out the alley and keep an eye out for a boxy black van. Any questions?”
“No, I am here to learn from you and they say you are the best in the city to learn from.”
On the drive to the alley, Frank noticed some of the regulars were not in the area. At the alley, Frank saw Old Howie's mangy dog Mooch lying just outside of the alley. Frank has never seen Howie and Mooch separate from each other.
“Max, keep an eye on Mooch while I take a walk down the alley. I am getting a funny feeling something is just not right.”
Nothing out of the ordinary, trash bins overflowing, cardboard shelters, and pallets waiting to be picked up. Wait, there is no one in the shelters and no animals, cats, dogs, or rats. That is strange, at this time of the day the homeless residents of the area usually are undercover examining what they collected in the morning rush hours and waiting for their afternoon routine to start.
“What did you find?”
Frank jumped at the question from Max, “I told you to stay with Mooch, what are you doing here?”
“The mutt wandered off.”
“Come on, which way did he go?”
They went to the next alley and Mooch was there looking down the alley and growling. At the other end of the alley was a boxy black van with no plates or rear window. Stretch, another local was standing beside the van and was suddenly pulled inside as the van took off.
Frank automatically pulled his gun and charged down the alley yelling, “Get the car and circle the block and pick me up!”
At the end of the alley, Frank turned in the direction the van turned and saw it make a left turn at the next corner. A second later Max came screeching around the same corner, siren blaring.
He pulled to a stop and Frank jumped in, “Why didn't you stop the van?”
“What van, I didn't see any van!”
“It went around the corner two seconds before you did! You could not have missed it!”
“There was no van, you can check the car camera, you know it comes on when we turn the siren on. Honestly, there was no van.”
They took off and circled several blocks with no sign of the van. Frank went back to the area and questioned people in the area about the van. Only a few regulars already boozed up, said the thing comes and disappears after talking to someone. Oh, also, the someone disappears.
The rest of the day they spent at the station doing reports and talking to their Captain, who scoffed at the idea of a mysterious disappearing van kidnapping winos and that it was not high on their priority list of crimes if it did exist. Frank has already decided to look into this himself on and off his watch.
That night Frank wandered through the streets looking in alleys and checking in on the locals. All was quiet the first two hours when he rounded the corner onto Third Street.
“No! I will not come any closer! Tell me where Old Joe is right now!”
Frank recognized Mae's shriek immediately and took off running towards the commotion. There was Mae, hands on her hips, just outside the alley shouting at the black van. He ran up to her and pulled his gun as he stepped in front of her to look into the van.
The moment he did, his entire body started tingling and he could not move a single muscle. A humming from inside the van brought his attention to the darkness inside. It was like looking into a cave at night, coal black.
He felt his body being lifted off the ground and forward into the van. As he passed the doorway, a ring of lights and a mist was shot over him making his skin tingle even more. Frank heard Mae screaming and calling his name as the lights went off and the doors slammed behind him.
Another ring started glowing in front of him with a midnight blue color. The inside of the ring began to swirl of black and blue as he was drawn into it. The next moment he was in a blinding white light inside a dull, gray, metallic room.
A tall figure dressed in a black robe was standing behind a console pushing buttons. Frank could not see its face but knew it had to be hideous because the four-fingered hands he could see were gnarled and greenish/gray with long nails on each finger.
Frank realized he was standing in a clear tube naked and without his gun. He looked to his sides and saw other tubes and each had people in them in the same condition. Each had a hopeless look and some were crying.
A group of five aliens appeared beside the one at the console. One of them nodded and the first pushed a button and a tube three down from Frank started glowing. That person burst into dust and was sucked down a vent in the bottom of their tube.
One of the five approached the tube and withdrew a large vial from the base. It returned to the console, opened the vial and put one of its long nails into the gray powder that was inside. It lifted the finger to its head and pulled back its hood.
The head was the same color as the hands he saw. It was round but lumpy. Its eyes were huge in comparison, light green with red veins spreading towards the center. The nose and mouth were horizontal slits with swollen edges covered with a mucus-like substance.
It pushed the nail into its nose and pulled it out clean. It started to shiver and the head started to pulsate in some areas. After few seconds it was still and it looked at the others and nodded. They left after it pointed at us, sweep its hand from left to right.
Another tube glowed and the operator collected the vial. Interplanetary drug dealers, that is all they are and we are the drug. Something in our make up, when dissolved gets these things high.
It looks like I am next, I wonder if the captain will think it worthy of his time to look for a missing cop?
The music vibrated off the walls as the dancers stomp their feet in the modified Electric Slide to ‘Indian Outlaw’ by Tim McGraw. At the Mason Hotel, which I just had remodeled, I was hosting its grand opening with an open bar for the guests and any of the town people that wanted to join in on the festivities. Not to my surprise, only a few of the towns’ people showed up. The ones that did were either new to town, the very curious, or the ones trying to find a way to shut us down.
The new people were out on the floor or at the bar, the curious stood by the nearest exists and were constantly glancing about, but not sure about joining in on the festivities. The others were outside the doors growling at each other and not smiling. They were the ones that fought long and hard at keeping my 150-year old hotel from being reopened, after 20 years of being shut down. Their superstitions about ghosts were their only excuse for not wanting this destination resort to opening and bring more business to this dying town. With the money, my investors and I put into the remodel, advertising, signs on the main highway, and internet listing, the town has had a 50% increase in revenue with more to come.
As I was attempting to get one of the old spinsters out on the dance floor and try to break the ice, the music stopped, the lights began to flash. The heavy wagon wheel, gas light fixtures above the crowded dance floor began to sway.
“Get out, everyone must get out now!” shouted Seth, the old unofficial historian and rebel rouser, as the rest ran to the nearest exits, “Ya all better run for your lives, you see what you’ve done! It has already started! Get out!”
The mass exit was chaotic. People screaming and shoving their way out. Because of the layout of the doors, to the lobby, garden, elevators to the guestrooms, and the outdoor pool area, the bar and dance floor was emptied with in a few minutes. Then the three wagon wheels dropped to the floor and jets of flame shot out of the gas lines. Fortunately, the new sprinkler system put out the fires quickly and limited the damage more to the water than the flames.
I had been pushed out the door into the lobby by the rushing mob, but I stayed by the door and watched the turmoil. As the sprinklers were flowing, I rush back in and I see a young boy about ten, dirty clothes and face, standing on the dance floor staring up at the ceiling. When I get to the spot, the boy is gone and I think of the tales I had been told of incidents in the hotel and the reports of kids being seen after the occurrences were over.
Angry voices, from the lobby, brought me out of my thoughts and I rushed to see what was going on now. The old timers were hollering at the top of their lungs at the staff as they were trying to calm everyone down. Most of the other guests were complaining about the ruined evening.
I managed to get the old folks into my office. I encouraged the staff to offer refunds or extra nights free to the other guests and within an hour the lobby was quiet. Now I had to face the locals and their fight to close us down based on their old stories.
“We warned ya, Jake Bardos, of what was going to happen, ya are just lucky no one was hurt,” hollered Seth Weeks, “Opening this place brings the kiddies out for their fun. We don’t need any more of this, we lived through it several times since this place closed in 1990 after that fool Clegg opened it as a museum. Nine people died in that explosion and another six went to the hospital.”
“Now that was a faulty propane tank valve,” I stated, “ the Fire Marshall proved that.”
“What caused the brand new valve to go bad, the kiddies like to fool around with things like that,” growled Seth as the others voice their agreement, “This place needs to be torn down and never have anything built here again.”
“I own this place and it is not going to be shut down until I say so. No wives tales or spook-stories are going to change my mind. Until the kiddies walk up to me, shake my hand, and tell me their story nothing is going to stop me from running this place. Everyone in this town has benefited from me and I am going to continue.”
“We wal see, when ya have blood on ya hands we will see how fast ya shut this place down and run fer the hills. If ya survive”.
At this point, they stormed out of my office vowing never to return except to carry out the corpses that are to come. I could see Seth’s six foot stooped frame pushing his way through the crowd as they warned everyone to get out as soon as they could, as they made their way to the door.
I started to laugh a little at Seth’ habit of referring to the ghosts as kiddies, I had been told none of the owners ever had kids, but I did see that boy or did I?
It was lucky for me I had used some of the ghost stories to get people interested in coming here. Most were eager now to explore the bar and the rest of the hotel for more signs of the kiddies. My wife and partner, Patty had the foresight to bring out the old photos we had stored, for a later display, and the guests were eagerly going through them and our private historians were answering questions as fast as they could. I even heard one person calling his friend and telling him to get in here as fast as he could, ‘this place is great.’
It took three days to repair the damage to the bar and dance floor, with extra care on the wagon wheel lights. They would not be coming down again from any vibrations, ‘not even an earthquake would bring these babies down’ stated the contractor. There had been no occurrences during this time, which pleased me but disappointed some of my guests. The cost of the repairs did not bother me much either, all of our rooms were booked solid for the next three months.
Our Grand Reopening went smoothly, everyone had a great time, a little disappointed nothing happened, but a good time was had by all. None of the old timers showed up but I was told a few were parked close by to watch the downfall of the hotel.
By late morning of the next day, most of our guests were up and talking about the noises they heard coming from the attic, while others were commenting on the ones coming from the basement. Most wanted to look at the areas by themselves, but I told them I would lead a few into each area through out the day. You could see the excitement and everyone wanted to be on the first trips. I took two couples at a time, which I picked alphabetically.
We started in the basement, I walked them around the furnace, the hot water tanks, and by the shelves where odds-and-ends were stored. Nothing exciting or odd was found so I let them wander about by themselves for a while. They talked of the noises they heard and tried to place the area the noises were coming from. Everyone agreed they came rom the south side of the basement. No other answers were found but more questions came up about the architecture of the walls.
The walls were not the typical concrete but stacked stones and an arch on each wall with stones so precisely stacked that not one open hole could be found. I had asked the same questions when I was first looking at the place. The realtor told me the basement was added fifteen years after the hotel was built, to me it looked older but I am no expert. The design was just a specialty of this construction company they worked on a lot of churches thus the arches.
After my guests were bored with the basement, we went to the attic. It was hot and stuffy and the dust was thick. I had not been up here since we cleaned it out enough to see no work was needed here except to get rid of the rest of the junk that we did not want. That could be done in the off season after the hotel opened for business.
We wandered through the old furniture, boxes of knick-knacks, and old rugs. Again we found no sign of
Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 09.06.2018
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To My Love My Life My Wive, Patricia