The Dreamer's Curse

Professor Fiddle's Cradle

[Chapter 15]

It’s funny how one event can change one’s perspective entirely.

What I wouldn’t have given to have had Joe by my side a couple of days ago — never mind the uncertainty. At the very least, there was room for error, room for good. Currently, all I could afford Joe was a space in my heart labeled anger. And as cruel as it may sound, I was driven to do something about it. He was not getting away with this.

“How did you find me?” I glared at Professor Fiddle. “If this is some sort of trick — if you’ve got a tracking device on me —”

“Nothing like that,” he said. “Like I said, you have to trust me, Jane. I did just save your life.”

“Don’t they say that in action movies? Right before one of the characters die?”

“They do, actually. And we will die if you keep this up.”

Professor Fiddle drove out of the city, into the dark night road that led to his house.

“How did you find me?”

He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Whenever a Dreamer comes to our realm, they pass through a sort of gateway to get to their physical bodies.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“I’m not finished.”

“Sorry,” I pursed my lips.

Professor Fiddle smiled. “Well, you’ve met Mr Page? He just stepped into our realm a half hour ago. Who knows where he’s been, but I knew he was back for something.”

“Raph told me you were with him, and Joe too.”

“Yes,” he frowned. “They sought me out. They said they’d found the Cursed Dreamer and needed it transferred. They sent Joe up, and he needed a cover story. You weren’t a Dreamer at the time, I think. No, I wasn’t monitoring you yet. I didn’t know what I was getting you into. I didn’t know what kind of Dreamers they were at the time. And I didn’t know you were the Cursed Dreamer.”

“Well, now you do,” I sighed. “Are all Dreamers able to monitor others?”

“No,” he said as he drove us off the road and onto a little dirt track. “I’m a rare breed. The only damn one, really.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have guessed it.”

He scoffed. “You’re smart, but you’re new to it. I, however, am not. So making a rookie mistake like setting the dogs on you — that’s my fault.”

“And what have you brought me here for?”

We were outside a little metal gate that led to a boxy white house. It looked like a fancy mental institution.

“You’ve got to have somewhere safe to dream.”

“My father—”

“Will be notified. I’ll bring him over once you’re Dreaming.”

“And you knew about the Curse?”

“Every single Dreamer knows. Thank Samuel for that.”

He drove the car through the gate, and parked. We walked into the house, into the living room. The area was filled with odd gadgets and gizmos—things I thought only existed in sci-fi movies. Of course, this Dreamer business seemed like a Stephen King conspiracy theory in itself.

“Trappers,” he gestured to a pile of metal bracelets on the table. “Keeps the Dreamer from flitting about. I’d like to try it on the Page duo sometime.”