The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

Looking for Blue Jay

         

"Shalon!"

I woke up with a start someone shaking my leg. "Wait," I said. "Shush—leave me alone!" I tried futilely to return to the dream, and kicked at the hand that was touching my leg, but the dream was gone. "Dammit!" I cursed under my breath.

"Shalon, jeez louise, you are a difficult woman to wake up!" It was Kyle, out of breath from bending over, shaking me presumably.

I groaned. "I was having a dream—something important! Leave me alone!" I rolled over, searching my memory. What was it? "Dammit!" I yelled. "Why'd you have to wake an old lady like that!? I was having a bloody dream, Kyle!"

"It's Lyle, Shalon. L-Y-L-E—Lyle. Not Kyle."

"Jesus, Kyle, I was having a bloody important dream!"

"LYLE!" he yelled again, but his tone is amused.

I wanted to be angry, but I couldn't "Dammit, I know it was something important."

"Well, don't worry about it. Important dreams have a way of starting off just where they ended, or repeating themselves ad infintum, ad nauseum, until you get the point."

I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "It's too early in the morning for one of your bloody dream lectures. Leave an old lady alone!" I grumbled, turning over. It was then that I noticed that there were about twenty eyeballs staring at me.

I turned over onto my back and looked around me, squinting in the bright light. I was literally surrounded by kids. "What are all you staring at me for?!" I yelled, hoping they would scatter, but they didn't. "Ahhh crap," I sighed. "It's too early in the morning for this crap." I felt like crying, honestly. I just wanted to be in my bed curled up with a book.

"Um... it's not early in the morning, Shalon," Lyle offered sheepishly.

I looked up at the sky, shielding my eyes. Oh yeah, the sun was about ninety degrees, and in spring that means nine or ten o'clock or thereabouts. "What the heck! Why'd you let me sleep in so late!" I said, throwing my blankets off. 

Lyle ignored me, shaking his head, and handed me a cup of cold, watery tea. I'd have turned my lip up at it, but my lip was plastered to my teeth, and I desperately needed the liquids, so I gulped it down.

The kids were just sitting there, watching me like vultures. "Get outta here!" I yelled. "Scram! Go play or something."

They looked at me like I was speaking Greek.

"Shalon," Lyle explained. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for three hours. The kids woke up before dawn."

I took a deep breath, exhaling my frustration, or at least I hoped. Out with frustration, in with peace. Out with frustration, in with joy. Wasn't that something I learned a lifetime ago? It wasn't helping this morning. My body felt like a giant, heavy, black rock. There was no way on earth I was getting up without help. The cold, hard ground had leached all flexibility from my joints.

"Can you get up," Lyle asked.

"No," I answered quietly, and then in a whisper. "Get rid of the kids, Lyle. I can't let them see me weak or they could devour me one morning for—dejeuner, if you get my drift." I was fairly certain they couldn't understand the French word for breakfast; I didn't want to give the dirty rascals any ideas.

Lyle, thank the stars, received the message loud and clear and drove into action. "Okay, get going," he said to the kids. "You know where we're headed. We'll catch up."

The kids were reluctant, but Lyle managed to cajole and threaten them into action.

Meanwhile, I tried to work some feeling back into my body with willpower and some lackluster shaking and stretching from my sitting position, doing my best impersonation of someone who would imminently stand up on her own.