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Sweet Dreams


Jonathan Isenor


This story is dedicated to my loving girlfriend Tara, my family for supporting me, And to my best friends Scott and Dan for believing in me.



He couldn't sleep at night,
He was becoming someone he wasn't,
He was losing his mind,
Or was he?
Have sweet dreams
They may be your last

Chapter 1

Chris had been having disturbing dreams, some would call them nightmares. They were what some people would call demented. He was scared to go to sleep at night. As a result of this he began to act out. Normally he was a nice, friendly boy. Feeling concerned for their child, his parent's snuck into his room one night and stole his journal. Only what they would find out would shock them. They snuck back to their room where they both opened the journal and began skimming through it. Something caught their eye as both parents looked up at each other.

Chris had been having demented dreams, dreams about people dying. His parents kept reading until they learned more about these dreams. Chris had dreamt of seeing his parents lying in a puddle of blood on their living room floor. Also he had dreamt about his friend Tom dying. Chris didn't tell anyone about the dreams, he feared what might happen.

"What do we do, Arlene?" Pat whispered to his wife.

Arlene began to cry, she was very worried about her son. She, like any other mother, only wanted the best for her son. Pat hugged his wife; he was upset over the matter as well. Pat let go of Arlene and wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"We'll talk to him about this tomorrow. I'm sure we can help him."

Arlene continued to cry; she didn't want to see her boy acting this way anymore. She wanted to help him; she wanted him to be happy. Pat's intentions were the same, he wanted his son to have a happy life.

"I just... I just..." Arlene said trailing off.

"I know, I know," Pat replied while pressing her head to his chest. "Let's get some sleep. We'll talk to Chris tomorrow morning about this and see what he thinks."

It took Pat a few minutes but he managed to calm down his wife and get her to bed. Pat had a hard time sleeping that night; he lay in bed thinking about what he had read. He thought about the dreams, he wondered if he was a good enough father. Or maybe Arlene was not a good enough mother? But then again, it could have nothing to do with either of us, Pat questioned himself.

The next morning came quite quickly as early rays of sunlight peaked through the curtains at Pat. Pat rolled over to give his wife a kiss, but she was gone. All there was was empty sheets. He began to hear someone banging around downstairs. Arlene was already up and making breakfast. Pat looked at his alarm clock; it was ten after eight, time to start the day.

Pat was not surprised that Arlene was up early making breakfast and running around, that was the way she often coped with problems. Pat rolled out of bed and threw on an old pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. Next he grabbed his big square glasses and put them on. He was always getting taunted for wearing the square glasses growing up.

Even now as a teacher he couldn't escape the torture of the students mocking him. He didn't have much to do now, since it was summer. He took up teaching summer school, but he didn't have to be there until ten. School only ran until two, which was not too bad. He slowly walked down the stairs still half asleep. Arlene was busy frying eggs and bacon.

"Hi, honey how are you this morning?" Arlene asked eagerly.

Pat sat himself down in one the chairs at the table and rubbed his eyes. He was still half asleep, and not exactly eager to have this chat with Chris. It has to be done though, I need to know if and how I can help my son, Pat told himself.

"I'm good, Arlene. Is Chris up yet?"

Arlene looked at Pat and smiled. She was trying to avoid the issue that was bugging her, but she knew that she couldn't avoid it all her life. The inevitable could not be avoided.

"No I don't think that he's up yet. Why don't you go and check on him?" Arlene asked in a cheery tone.

"Arlene, stop trying to be cheery, I know you're not. Don't bottle up your feelings, please. I'm going up to talk to him, do you want to come or not?" Pat asked in a calm voice.

"I'm coming." Arlene quickly replied.

Pat and Arlene quickly ascended the stairs and stood before Chris's room. Pat knocked on the door and awaited Chris's response.

"Come in." Chris replied groggily.

Pat and Arlene opened the door to their son's room. His room like usual was a mess, clothes lined the floor and dishes were stacked quite high on top of his dresser. The walls of his room were plastered with posters of various bands. Pat tip toed over Chris's belongings and sat down on his bed. Chris peeked through one of his eyes at his father. Pat reached out and shook Chris slightly to try and wake him up.

"What d'you want?" Chris said while pulling the blankets over his head.

Pat grabbed the blankets from around Chris's head and ripped them away. Chris lay in his pajama pants and a muscle shirt, holding his hands over his face. It was evident that he was up late again, Pat thought to himself. He had a bad habit of always staying up late at night. Even when school was on he would always stay up late. It didn't matter if it was a school night, he still stayed up late. He was stubborn, just like his father.

"We need to talk to you about something important, Chris." Pat began.

"We stole your journal last night and read it." Arlene interrupted.

Chris sat up immediately and threw his sheets. He was in shock; his parents had invaded his privacy.

"You did what?" Chris yelled.

Chris could not believe that his parents would do such a thing. His journal was a very personal thing that no one had the right to invade. After reading his journal they came in his room, they know, Chris thought, they know about my dreams. He was in trouble; Chris began to panic in his mind.

"Calm down." Pat said sensing that Chris was panicking about the situation.

"Chris, honey, we just want to help you. We want you to have a happy life; we want you to be happy. So please let us help you. Please," Arlene pleaded.

All Chris felt was anger, he was mad at his parents for invading his privacy. He hated the fact that they would just go and steal his journal. They should have asked him if he was okay or something, he thought to himself. What they did was wrong, and he had to let them know that. He couldn't have something like this happening again.

"You guys had no right to invade my privacy and read my personal thoughts. What you guys did was just wrong, and I can't forgive you for that! Get out!" Chris yelled while pointing to the door.

"Now, son..." Pat began. "We are just trying to help you. You wouldn't open up to us so we took matters into our own hands. We did it because we care about you, not because we wanted to invade your privacy. We are not like that, we love you." Pat replied calmly, trying to grasp the situation.

Chris knew his parents loved him, but what they did was inexcusable in his mind. They hadn't asked him if he was okay. Instead they just went into his room and stole his journal. They never tried to sit down and talk with him.

"Get out!" Chris yelled again.

"Fine, but when you're ready to talk, come see us." Arlene said in an upset voice.

Chris's parents left his room finally. Chris opened the blinds to his windows; it was raining out. Chris sat up in bed, with his blanket curled around himself. Chris was sick of having all of those demented dreams, and sick of hiding the reason behind why he was acting odd. The dreams almost changed him, they were that disturbing. They had made him slip into a world of depression that he hated. He hated being depressed; it was something that he never was. That was until these dreams began...

He got up from his bed and walked over to his window seat where he sat himself down. Deep down he was scared, scared that the dreams could be true. He was scared that he could end seeing his parents dead or his friend dead. He was truly afraid for the first time in his life. He did not want to go to sleep most nights because of these dreams, he feared going to sleep. He didn't want to wake up from one of these dreams again. There was fear brewing in his stomach, he was afraid.

Chris understood why his parents were concerned about him; after all he was their son. At the same time though, he felt like he was violated. Maybe my parents were right, maybe they could help him, he pondered. Chris lay back on the window seat listening to the gentle rain falling, closed his eyes and fell back asleep.

While Chris was sleeping he had a dream, he saw his girlfriend Tracy lying on the floor with a knife in her stomach. She was dead and a man was standing over her with a blurred face, Chris could not see. Chris awoke in a cold sweat, he was scared, scared that this dream might also come true. He opened his eyes and looked around his room. It was all a dream.

It was another disturbing dream; tears began to fall down the cheeks of Chris's face. He was upset, he couldn't sleep, what every human being could do he could not. This brought back his depression again, only this time it was worse. He sat at the window seat weeping for quite some time; his mother heard him and rushed up the stairs. Arlene knocked on the door.

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