The first light of dawn is the best. It means I have a full twelve hours before I need to sleep again. The snow on the floor makes me pull my feet back under the duvet. Frosted grass has sprung up in place of the carpet and my wardrobe is hidden behind the trees. Snowflakes are twirling down softly and I can smell Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte, like mulled wine on a crisp Christmas morning.
Oh. Oh no, not again, I moan softly in my head.
I can feel the hat on my head and what I had previously taken as part of my duvet, I figure out is a scarf. The sweet dream of my crush and I having a romantic walk in the forest near town has sprung into life. His voice is still ethereally echoing around my room, as is his deodorant. It makes my head spin as I try to get rid of the last traces of the dream. The longer I let it fester, the stronger the items, the feelings, the scents, the sounds get.
I run barefoot across my floor swearing loudly until I get to the hall and turn up the house's heating to the maximum. I twirl the scarf up off of my head, using it to pull my hat off in the process and then throw them on the floor. I can't think about what to do about the trees in my room. Or the amount of water the melted snow would create. That wasn't my problem right now.
I mean I was always a daydreamer. And I could pull people really easily into my daydreams, at sleepovers I stayed over at people always had the best dreams and I always felt when waking up that I had left something very real behind. And then I found out I was a dream weaver.
A diving rod basically for the ley lines around the world. I could tap into their power and the pure emotions you feel when dreaming and manipulate them into physical being. Ley lines soak up beliefs, feelings and more importantly life from living organisms that crossed them, but never enough to kill them, just the tiniest spark. That power of everything that had ever stepped onto one of these hunderds of lines that cross the globe, since life existed on life was a lot of power to wield. And these lines brought a great feeling of contentment for those who knew how to find them and use them properly. Apparently. But I didn't know how to use them, the powers just manifested.
The first time this had occurred I had freaked out rather majorly, in a panic, over what had happened. My friend Ross has a problem. You can't trust him around sharp things, especially when he's sad. Anyways I had a dream that his problem had appeared really bad, at school, and I'd found him with the blood pouring out of his arms in the wood, blood pooling on the leaf-littered floor. The metallic smell of blood was so strong that there was a tingling taste on the roof of my mouth. I'd screamed until my throat was in ribbons.
"Shush. Please don't make me die with a headache."
His voice had been so weak and pleading, something in my chest had broken. I'd fell ,sobbing, to my knees and pulled his head into my lap, gently stroking his hair off of his forehead. I'd sat there stroking his hair, feeling his blood soak through my school trousers and alternating between "Shush, hush now, it'll be okay, I wouldn't leave," and "I've got to go get you help Ross, please." And all he had drunkenly repeated was "Shush, I can't die with a headache, shush Kadie, shush." Of course when he stopped breathing, I'd lost it. What made it worse was waking up with a clod of leaves and blood spread across my legs in my bed.
My mum of course put it down to "becoming a woman". I'm not sure what traumatised me more - "The Talk" or the fact I'd apparently pulled some of my friend's blood out of a dream. Being eleven, I eventually convinced myself that that was the reason behind it and I just had an over active, twisted imagination.
There was then a string of about five incidents with dreams involving a kitten, a pair of my friend's underwear and a floor full of roses. Seriously don't ask. When I was thirteen I was totally convinced I had some sort of mental problem, but bad mental health is one of those subjects that you don't bring up. Because if you're like that, you get locked up. So I struggled with it until I got to a point were I exhausted myself so much and so often that I didn't dream at all. Then I had to get an actual sleeping pattern because of exams and revision and all sorts of other important things like dates and days out with friends.
That's when they started. The nightmares. And the horrible creatures I pulled out of them.