Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Dreamer (part II)

The Henry and Madsen stock brokering firm had, over the years, built a massive financial empire.  In the more recent years, their thousands of world-wide employees had received free smartphones, all bills and expenses paid, and free wireless internet at home.  The purpose of this was so that “employees can, at any time, check stock prices and financial news, and readily communicate with each other.”  I, in my three years of employment at Henry and Madsen, had yet to check stocks at home, and probably would never talk to any of my co-workers in my personal time. 

That said, I still did not let these free services go to waste, and by nine-o-clock at night I had discovered using these services, that the “cult” now had three members.  All three had demonstrated their ability by explaining the dreams of random individuals the previous night, all three lived somewhere in New York City, and all three asked that their names and faces not be shown or spoken on the news, for purpose of remaining anonymous to their fellow dreamers.

While I was thinking about this news, and how I wasn’t at all sure how to think about it, I slipped into the hallways of night, sleep, and dreams.  Dreams roared into my mind like a hoard of impatient children all wanting to get on a carnival ride at once.  Dreams of horrific things, dreams of nonsensical things, dreams of happy things, dreams of sad things, and dreams of ideas that could potentially change the world flipped through my mind as if I was watching a pointless slide show.  My mind whirred as it attempted to rest and view 8,400 dreams in seven hours simultaneously.  Finally, as I sprinted through the final dream of the night, my eyes began to ease open and my ears began to comprehend the irritating noise of my alarm clock.  If any of the people that my responsibilities encompassed had a dream between now and when I again fell into the strenuous exercise of sleep, it would be a very real one.

My hand searched for my phone without the guidance for my eyes.  After my hand had successfully retrieved the phone, I pushed my eyelids up.  Ignoring the three new messages from Todd – how had he gotten my number? –  I returned to the bookmarked news website.  The running count of proven dreamers had now reached seven.  There must have been a lot of people throughout New York City who had had very real dreams, for four dreamers had not been sleeping.

I went to work that day, and the next day, and the next day.  The world of news had since blown off the crazy dreamer cult and moved onto more recent and entertaining stories.  It wasn’t until three days later when more news popped up about the cult, and all of the members’ proven abilities: they were now releasing the names of other dreamers that they had come into contact with.  My heart jolted against the inside of my rib cage, cold sweat broke out all over my body.  I only had to make it through four more hours of work, and then I could go home and find out whose names had been released to the scrutinizing public eye.  But how could I?  This could effect my whole life; ruin it!  I could get fired from my job, kicked out of my apartment, and I had no idea how society would react to the knowledge that one who had been living with them was a dreamer.

Painstakingly, throughout the day, I typed, I talked to clients, I talked to co-workers, I did anything and everything I could to act as if nothing were wrong.  I was scared.  The last time I had been truly scared was so long ago I only had blurs for memories of the whole situation.

Finally, when the mini clock in the lower right corner of my sleek (company-issued) laptop clicked to 4:30, I closed up shop.  I clicked my laptop shut, put things back in drawers and papers back in folders, and I left the Henry and Madsen building as fast as I dared.  My legs took strode with the fastest speed that was at all safe while I dodged around slower moving people on the sidewalk.  All the while I tapped at my smartphone’s screen, searching through news websites, blogs, and social media, trying to find the information that I so desperately needed to see.  It took me the whole time that I was walking to the subway, but I found it.  Sitting right in front of me on the screen of my cellphone was the list that had the power to destroy my life.
To be continued…

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