Baylor's Guide to Dreadful Dreams Read online

“That’s different,” Kristina said. “Grandma’s a saint.”

  “If she can’t sleep, though . . . maybe she’s hiding something.”

  “Allow me to rephrase,” she said through gritted teeth. “When someone can’t sleep, it can sometimes mean that something deep in their soul is desperately trying to keep them from sleeping.”

  “Because they don’t want to go off and learn those lessons you talked about?”

  She nodded. “Their soul resists it. They don’t want to face what awaits them once they’ve drifted off.”

  “Because they get punished or something?”

  “The truth is a tough thing to face sometimes,” she said cryptically.

  “But everyone has to sleep at some point,” I said. “You’ll die if you don’t.”

  “They can get by on a few hours of restless sleep every night,” Kristina said. “It’s the dreamless parts—those blocks of time no one remembers once they’ve woken up—that matter. If you can’t remember your dreams when you wake up, you’ve been off learning a lot of lessons.” She jumped. “Speaking of which, I’ve got to head out to the Beyond. I’ll see you in the morning. And remember, just because you can access other people’s dreams doesn’t mean you should.”

  I still had so many questions. What kind of lessons? And what point did they serve if I couldn’t remember them when I woke up?

  She gave me a pointed look and disappeared in a zap of blue light before I could ask them. It’s not like I was going to do anything weird. What was the worst that could happen? Still, her words bounced around in my mind as I strolled down the path to explore, and I decided not to dive into any dreams tonight. There were so many doors—I didn’t count, but I couldn’t believe how far the lane stretched on.

  Once I’d reached the last door at the end of the path, I’d expected to hit some kind of wall, but instead, another incredible display of bright stars had appeared, somehow more incredible than what I’d just seen. Splashes of purple and blue colored the black canvas, space dust that drifted carelessly through the heavens. There were countless twinkling lights beckoning me forward to gaze into the infinite galaxies.

  I stepped into the dancing lights and found myself transported seamlessly from the blackness of the Dream Portal to the blackness of an immense ocean, a light breeze blowing through my hair as the waves rolled gently by. The moon was nearly full and shining brightly, and together with the abundance of stars, they reflected off the surface of the ocean so vividly it was like I was swimming through the sky.

  Was I back in my own dreams again? I didn’t think so. I was still fully aware. I knew I was dreaming and not actually in the ocean. I didn’t feel wet or cold. It was so peaceful.

  Yet there was a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, like no matter how serene and beautiful this setting was, something bigger was at play . . . something terrible.

  I glanced around as a wave lifted me up and brought me back down. For a second, through the light of the moon and stars, I thought I saw a figure in the distance, but it disappeared. I stared hard, squinting, hoping my eyes would adjust and spot it again, but nothing happened.

  I let the ocean wash over me for a while longer, but I couldn’t relax. Soon enough, I wished I were actually dreaming and not partaking in this lucid dream.

  If this were a real dream, then I could write off the feeling in my stomach as nothing more than the product of my overactive imagination.

  If this were a real dream, I could wake up and laugh off the anxious feeling, not a care in the world.

  But that wasn’t the case. I was in someone else’s dream, and the inexplicable dread and fear I felt were entirely too real.

  TIP

  6

  Avoid your grandma’s dreams.

  THE NEXT MORNING I WENT for a brisk bike ride around town to ward off the uneasy feeling gnawing at my stomach. Kristina kept asking me what was wrong, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I was still new to this whole dreamwalking thing and just need to get a better grip on it.

  First I visited Reverend Henry, who’d been a key part of helping me figure out the Sheet Man mystery. He’d just finished up a service, though, and I couldn’t chat with him for too long since people had turned up in droves in anticipation of Thanksgiving.

  An elderly woman in front of me was making persistent attempts to find a time to host him and his family for dinner soon, but he gracefully dodged every date she threw out. Behind me, the line of people was swarming with impatience.

  “We’ll find a time soon, Marietta,” he said, pushing her away graciously but firmly. “Maybe after the holidays.”

  She left in a slow huff, and he turned back to me, his smile frozen in place.

  He leaned forward and whispered, “Last time she had us over for dinner, we got stuck there for five hours. She warmed up a few cans of soup and showed us pictures of seventy years’ worth of cats. My kids still haven’t forgiven me.”

  I wanted to chat with him about my dreams, but the woman behind me stamped her foot rudely and glared at me when I turned to look at her.

  “You didn’t even attend the service,” she said. “I saw you lock up your bike and get in line.”

  “Busted,” I said, turning back to the reverend. “I’ll see you later. Have a good Thanksgiving.”

  He winked at me as I turned to head back to my bike. “Ms. Holly,” he said dryly to the woman behind me, “always such a joy to chat with someone so pleasant.”

  Then I headed to Madame Nadirah’s Mystic Shoppe, but it was closed.

  “What is this place?” Kristina asked as I walked over to read the handwritten sign on the door.

  “Madame Nadirah was the one who helped me cross into the Sheet Man’s weird dimension to find you, but then Grandpa came over and threw me out of it.”

  “Oh,” Kristina said with a grimace. “Her.”

  I read the note on her door and chuckled.

  Out sick today. If you need any merchandise, I’ll be in tomorrow. If you need some spiritual healing, light a candle, pray you’ll survive the night, and call me in the morning if you do. If it’s an emergency, what’s wrong with you?! Call 911!

  Back at home I tried to help Mom prep some dishes for Thanksgiving, which was four days away, but I was distracted by what was to come that night. I couldn’t wait to dream.

  As I got ready for bed, I kept touching the amulet—a feeling of giddiness at the thought of hopping into other people dreams overshadowed the dread I’d felt earlier. I’d stick with the stars and avoid the creepy ocean that made my stomach queasy.

  “You know,” Kristina said delicately as I turned off the lights, “just because you can go snooping through dreams doesn’t mean you should.”

  She must have sensed my excitement.

  “I’m not planning on making it a routine or anything. I’m just curious to see what else I can do, especially since you said it’s so safe and all.”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I know I said it was safe, and it is safe, don’t get me wrong. But it’s safe for regular people. You’re not a regular person, Baylor. I’m not saying anything’s going to happen to you, but just . . . be careful.”

  I nodded. “I know, Kristina. I will.”

  I understood her caution. She was sort of responsible for me, after all, and lately keeping tabs on my safety seemed to become more difficult with each passing week.

  That night, I dreamed I was back in homeroom. Aiden was trying to talk to J and failing spectacularly, so he started dancing for her right in the middle of the classroom. The scene seamlessly morphed into a rock concert, Aiden swaying silently onstage while the crowd rocked out before us, arms outstretched, heads banging, feet stomping.

  I surveyed the scene, and the switch in my brain flipped.

  This was a dream.

  It wasn’t real.

  I brushed past the twirling Aiden and headed for the trapdoor in center of the stage.

  “None of this is real,” I ann
ounced to the crowd, but no one cared. Everyone was entranced with Aiden’s pirouettes.

  “Let’s go,” I said to no one, and the trapdoor descended into blackness. I stood back in my little dream universe, the shooting stars stretching left and right before me.

  Something about this portal took me back to a water park I’d visited once when I was much younger. There’d been a ride called Starry Night where you went down a pitch-black tunnel on an inner tube by yourself, and as you sailed down, a bright, twinkling series of lights accompanied you the whole way. It had felt like soaring through space and seeing different galaxies.

  This new Dream Portal was my own personal Starry Night, except it was much less wet (and likely much more sanitary). I still liked Baylorville as an option, but I decided to save it for a place that was accessible to more people than just Kristina and me.

  I stepped past my own blue shooting star and turned right down the path. Was there any sort of rhyme or reason here as to which door belonged to whom? Could I get these labeled somehow, perhaps with some sort of dream label maker? I looked at my hand and imagined a label maker popping into being, but nothing happened.

  Rats. I’d have to figure something else out to keep track of the doors.

  I chose the one next to Ella’s, figuring it was as good as any. I’d just have to come back night after night and explore the doors.

  I tumbled forward into the darkness, somersaulting gracefully, but something weird happened. It felt like floating in a thick, jellylike haze, the surroundings partly visible through the gray. An unnaturally loud voice bellowed in my ears.

  “Just $9.99 if you call now! Our EZ-Omelet makes the perfect gift for any occasion! And if you call in the next five minutes, we’ll throw in a free gift—the Perfect Pancake Molder!”

  Who on earth was dreaming of an infomercial? I squinted through the haze and could barely make out a TV. Then a man entered into view—he turned off the TV, and the blaring voice went away. Then he walked over in my direction, and I gasped. It was Grandpa By! He was rapidly fading away, and I wasn’t sure it was really him since he was wearing an oversize chef’s hat and juggling pancakes. Was she imagining this whole scenario?

  “Sleep tight, my sweet, lovely Renee,” he whispered, blowing kisses in my direction. “You are my world and my wonder.” Then he disappeared, along with the haze, and for a second I was shrouded in total darkness before I reemerged into some sort of playground teeming with kids. It looked really old-fashioned, mainly because of the outfits. Lots of plaid, high socks, clunky shoes, and huge glasses, like they’d robbed a museum of 1960s fashion

  “You coming, Renee?” A group of girls giggled. I turned to my left and saw my grandma Renee as a teenager. I recognized her from all the photo albums I’ve looked through at her house. She had these bright blue eyes, wide and deerlike. They reminded me of Kristina’s.

  “Ugh, fine,” Grandma said with a shrug, looking my way. “You coming, B.?”

  I widened my eyes. How did she know who I was? I wasn’t even close to being alive at this point in history! But then I remembered this dream was happening right now, in real time. Obviously if I traveled back in time, teenager Renee wouldn’t know me, but in this weird dream world, Grandma Renee did.

  “Sure,” I said. “Where are we going?”

  She jerked her head to the left, and I followed her gaze to two girls sitting on some bleachers. One was almost supernaturally tall, to the point where her body shape was more ostrich than human, while the other was unnaturally rotund, as though she were part walrus. Surely Grandma’s mind was misremembering them.

  We walked in unison over to the girls, who didn’t look pleased to see us.

  “Hey, Fatty Patty and Legsy Lisa,” Grandma said. I jerked my whole body her way.

  “What did you say?” I asked, shocked, but she ignored me.

  “Listen, you losers aren’t planning on coming to my party this weekend, right?” she continued.

  The shorter, rounder girl gulped. She seemed to grow more walruslike by the second, to the point where I was expecting tusks to burst from her face. “Isn’t it a class party?”

  “Right,” Grandma said, “but you two aren’t really part of the class, you know? You’re just the two freaks we all sort of feel sorry for.” She looked at her nails. “I wouldn’t want you feeling left out when no one talks to you. Plus, you’d probably just gross all the boys out.”

  My insides had turned to ice, and I couldn’t suppress my gasp. “Grandma!”

  Grandma Renee looked at me in shock for a split second, before the scene dissolved away into nothing. I felt a sudden lurch in the pit of my stomach, and with a soft pop, I found myself tumbling forcibly backward into the Starry Night.

  I stood there, panting slightly. Grandma Renee had just bullied the daylights out of those girls. Was that what she was like when she was younger?

  Her look of shock was imprinted onto my mind. In that brief moment, her face had transformed from the smooth and youthful one of her past to the wrinkled, soft one I knew so well. It was almost like she’d realized it was actually me, her grandson, witnessing her horrible behavior, and had come back to herself. She’d probably woken up right at the moment, which is why I was forced back into the Starry Night.

  I wanted to wake myself up to call her and ask if the dream had been something real from her past, but I didn’t think that would go over well. I hadn’t yet told my parents about the dreamwalking, and if I called her, she’d certainly tell them all about it. Plus, I felt a bit weird. I’d entered her dream uninvited and witnessed something she was probably embarrassed about. The next time I saw her was going to be really awkward.

  I looked down at her shooting star, but saw it was no longer illuminated. There was only a very faint gray glow marking the door. Weird. I guessed it meant she wasn’t dreaming anymore, which only helped to confirm my theory she’d suddenly woken up.

  I went to the door across from hers and hesitated a moment. After experiencing Grandma Renee’s dream, did I really want to go through another one?

  But then I thought back to Bobby’s dream and how pleasant and interesting it had been. I couldn’t stop just yet! Besides, how much worse could it get than discovering your loving grandma was once a mean girl?

  Resolute, I took a step forward, tumbling and landing in a familiar hallway. I was in Aiden’s house, though it looked much darker than usual, with long, creepy shadows looming over the walls.

  The sound of a loud, angry voice reached my ears. I had never heard the voice in this house before, and I was suddenly very wary. I crept forward, cringing at a torrent of words spewing venomously from the mouth of an apparently furious woman, and peeked around the corner into the kitchen. The entire space had been cleared away of cabinets and appliances. Aiden was handcuffed to a chair, a single bulb lit over his head, like he was in a top secret interrogation room. Mrs. Kirkwood, who was normally so kind and friendly, was spewing abuse.

  You never lift a finger in this—my—house. Why am I coming home to see this garbage can full? Too lazy to do anything around here? It’s no wonder you’re so fat, only watching TV all day like some worthless blob.”

  I crept into the kitchen hidden in the shadows, letting them cover me like an invisibility cloak.

  She backed out of the room, and J took her place and glared at her boyfriend. “I’m only dating you because I feel sorry for you.” Aiden recoiled, and she clearly took great pleasure in causing him pain. “Look at you. Who could ever like you? It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassing.”

  She scoffed at him and then disappeared from the room. Someone else walked in, and I jumped with surprise to see me walking toward Aiden. Except it didn’t quite look like me. I was a little taller, a little better looking.

  “I can’t wait to get to high school and leave you behind,” I said, my voice as cold as a winter’s night in Keene. “You’re such a loser. You’re lucky I pity you so much.”

  My heart was pounding
inside of my chest, and I stepped forward out of the shadows.

  “That’s not true!” I said, touching his shoulder.

  He winced horribly, like I’d hit him, then stared at me in confusion from his wet eyes. He looked from the Baylor yelling at him to the Baylor consoling him several times.

  I realized I shouldn’t be there. I had to leave. Aiden wouldn’t want me to see his deepest insecurities laid out so plainly. I lunged back down the shadowy hallway, my heart threatening to burst from my chest, but before I could get back to the Starry Night I shot up awake in bed, breathing hard.

  I’d been lucid dreaming, but really, I’d been in a nightmare. Aiden’s nightmare.

  I sat there trying to catch my breath. I knew I was going to be up for a while. How would I be able to fall back to sleep tonight after discovering that my best friend dreamed about his loved ones saying the most hateful things imaginable to him?

  TIP

  7

  Nobody is worthless.

  I HADN’T BEEN ABLE TO fall back asleep, and by the time Kristina reappeared around six o’clock in the morning. I was surrounded by candles, trying to cleanse my space of any negative vibes I may have picked up from Aiden’s nightmare.

  “What happened?” Kristina said, suspicious. “You’re up far too early and surrounded by far too many candles for me to think everything is okay here.”

  I sighed. “I went exploring last night.”

  She stared at me hard and her mouth puckered. “Go on.”

  “Well, who should I begin with? Grandma or Aiden?”

  “Grandma.”

  “In her dream, she was bullying some girls at school and being a total jerk. It was horrible.”

  She nodded, looking over my shoulders and out the window. “And Aiden?”

  “His mom, J, and I all took turns shoving his insecurities down his throat. It was also horrible.”

  “Baylor, I don’t want to sound like Mom, but what did I tell you about walking through dreams?”

  “If you don’t want to sound like Mom right now, you’re doing a horrible job.”