The Dream Dreams the Dreamer - 1. Chapter 1

It was all a dream. It had seemed so real. The sounds, the sights, and the smells all seemed really . . . real.

I got up and went into my bathroom. I jumped into the shower, and my mind chewed over my dream as the hot water cascaded over me. It had all seemed so real; it felt much more like a memory than it did a dream. I guess since I very rarely remember my dreams, with this one still feeling so fresh and vivid in my mind, made it feel much more like a memory.

I remembered falling asleep, and then there was a crash, which I could have sworn had awoken me.

I distinctly recalled waking up.

Or was that just my dreamself waking up?

Could I really have been dreaming that I was a dream dreaming?

My head was starting to hurt as I was attempting to unriddle that particular riddle, wrapped up inside a puzzle, buried in an enigma.

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Mark Jameson was doing such erotic things to me, and that finger of his was driving me wild as it rubbed against my sweet spot.

Just as he was about to get to the really good bit, there was a loud crash, and I leapt out of my bed. I clicked on my bedside lamp, and quickly looked around my bedroom in search of what ever it was that had disturbed my wonderful dream. That was when I saw . . . him?

At least I think it is a ‘him’. There was a mound of dark clothing and a person crumpled on the floor. The person was groaning and trying to clamber out from underneath the heavy-looking robes.

The figure finally stood up, dropped the hood of his cloak, and ran his fingers through his hair; I was staring at a very cute boy. I judged him to be around my age, so thirteen or fourteen years old, he had pale brown eyes and a thick mop of dark blond hair; actually, he reminded me of the kid who had played Jonathan Bower on the American TV series Who’s the Boss. He straightened out his black robes, and then spoke to me.

“I apologise for waking you, Matthew.” He had addressed me by my first name, yet I had no idea who he was. He smiled at me and said, “But you do know me.”

Did he just read my mind?

How could he have read my mind like that?

“I don’t know you. Believe me, I’d remember.”

“Think back, Matthew. Two years ago. At the hospital.”

I thought back, and knew that he was referring to my cousin’s death. Charlie had been run over by a car, and he had remained in a coma for nearly two weeks before dying without ever regaining consciousness. I had spent every day at the hospital visiting my cousin, and would sometimes play with the children on the main ward when I could no longer cope with seeing my cousin hooked up to all those tubes and machines. I suddenly realised that I did know the boy I was looking at; he had been there the night that my cousin had died.

“Yes, Matthew. I am what you would call Death. Actually, I am one of many Angels of Death. I was there that night to help your cousin on his way home. You may call me Stephen.”

“And you’re here . . . for me?”

“Not in the way that you think.” I let out a sigh of relief. “I knew that you were special when I realised that you saw me that night two years ago. Very few humans are aware of us, and even fewer can see us.”

“What do you want from me?” Surprisingly, I wasn’t scared; but I suppose it’s hard to be scared of the Angel of Death when he’s such a cute bundle of sexiness. Jesus Christ! I’ve had some really fucked up dreams in my time, but perving on the Angel of Death is a new one, even for me.

“I need your help. For tonight, I would like you to become an Angel of Death.” Before I could as much as say ‘Bippity Boppity fucking Boo’, there I was all decked out in black velvet robes, looking like I should be out Trick or Treating.

“I’m . . . I’m dead?”

“Of course not, Matthew.” He grinned, shook his head, and rolled his eyes at me, as though he was explaining something blinding obvious to a three year old. “To be an Angel of Death you don’t have to be dead; you do give up your life though. You give up your family, your friends, and your future. But don’t worry about it, Matthew; you are only joining me for one night.”

A thousand thoughts and questions ran through my mind as I tried to work out just what the hell was being asked of me.

“Matthew, please try to control your thoughts.” Stephen squinted his eyes closed and clasped his hands at his head, as if my thoughts were somehow causing him physical pain. “I can hear them, all of them, and the maelstrom is very unsettling.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just not every day that an Angel of Death drops in on me, and recruits me for God knows what.”

“Let me try to answer some of your questions. There are different Angels of Death in every town, city, and country in the world. There are Angels like me, who take care of children who are dying; having another child take them home helps to ease the transition. There are Angels who are adults, who take care of adults who are dying, and so on.” I unconsciously nodded my understanding.

“The Angels in this town live together in a normal house, and we live as a normal family; well, as normal a family as five Angels of Death can live as. Although I am one of two Angels who are children, we don’t go to school, as we have no need to. Being an Angel of Death is not a job, it is a true calling; that is why I said ‘you do give up your life though’. We will never grow up, we will never have a regular job, we will never marry, nor have children of our own.” I became more and more dumbfounded as he really did know what I was thinking. I also became terrified that he would know I was still perving on him; wondering what he looked like underneath that robe, what all those layers of velvet were hiding.

“Finally, to answer the two questions you most want to know the answer to. Charlie is in Heaven. He is free from pain. He watches over you all the time. Your death -”

“NO! STOP! I may be curious, but I have no desire to know the answer.”

“Fine, I will not tell you. As to the reason I am here. There has been a train crash. There has been more death than we are able to cope with. We need your help to bring the children home.”

“What do you mean you need my help? What can I do?”

“I will explain everything to you, but we need to go.” He reached over, took me by the hand and suddenly my bedroom faded out of existence. As the world came back from the blackness, the scene I saw was utter chaos.

There were dozens of paramedics, there were fire crews, there were people lying on the ground covered in blood, and a few hundred yards away was the mangled remains of an intercity train. I could smell the fires, I could feel the heat coming off of them, and I could smell the stench of death. I could hear the sirens, the groans of the walking wounded, and the crackles of the fires. This was one of the most vivid dreams I had ever experienced.

“This accident happened about an hour ago. At first, my ‘sister’ and I thought we would be able to cope, but more children have died than we thought. After death, the soul only has a limited amount of time to move on.”

“What happens if the time runs out?”

“We have never allowed it to. Even God is afraid of the outcome, and refuses to speak of it; that in of itself serves as a motivator to us. That is why, over the centuries, as the human population has increased, so has the number of Angels of Death. I will watch as you help the first child, but from there you are on your own.”

It was so surreal. I could actually sense all of the children at this crash site, but only the children, and none of the adults. We walked over to the child who we had sensed had been dead the longest.

“Matthew, like me, you can only sense the children, because you are only here for the children. If you could feel all of the death here, it would distract you from your goals.”

I looked down at the first child and realised to my horror that I knew her. Her name is . . . her name was Cilla Chambers, and she was in my class at school.

Stephen placed a hand on my arm. “It’s never easy when you know them. Just remember everything I told you.”

I knelt down next to Cilla, and although I had been told it would not be necessary, I couldn’t help but say a silent prayer for her. I brushed my hand against her cheek as Stephen had explained earlier. I then saw . . . her soul I guess. It stretched its hand out to me.

“Take it, Matthew. A soul cannot verbally communicate. Once you take its hand, you will see a bright light. Just walk into it whilst holding the soul’s hand, and God will take care of the rest.”

I tentatively reached out; thinking just how was I supposed to take the hand of a ghost. However, the soul easily took hold of my hand. Then a large mass of bright light appeared nearby.

“Come along, Cilla. It’s time to take you home.” I walked over to the light with my first reaped soul and crossed the threshold. I’m not sure what I would see, but I was looking forward to seeing the next world, if only a brief glimpse.

As we entered the light, Cilla’s soul disappeared, and I simply appeared back at the crash site.

“Stephen, what happened?”

“You expected to see Heaven, didn’t you?”

“I’m not sure quite what I expected to see, but I expected to see . . . something.”

“That’s not the way it works, Matthew. The only people who get to see Heaven are those who have died. No Angel of Death has ever seen Heaven for themselves. Our job is to ensure the souls of the departed reach Heaven, not to witness its splendour for ourselves.”

He left me to start his own night of reaping, and I went off in search of my second soul. I worked for hours, reaping soul after soul, and helping them on their voyage home. I said a prayer for each of the departed, and even though I knew that they were going to a much better place, I wept for all of the children who had died.

“Matthew, we have collected all of the souls we are here for. We must leave now before the others arrive.”

“‘Others’?”

“We take children home to God, the adults with us take the adults home to God. You must know that there cannot be light without dark, good without evil, Heaven without . . . .”

I gasped. “You mean that . . . Hell . . . and . . . Satan . . . really exist?”

“They exist. Just as much as God . . . and Heaven . . . and even Angels of Death . . . exist. The ones who come to collect the souls going to the dark place will arrive soon. We are not permitted to be here when they arrive. They must allow us to do God’s work unchallenged, and we must allow them to do Satan’s work unchallenged.”

Stephen took my hand, the crash site faded out, and then I was back in my own bedroom.

“Matthew, you have done a great service for God this night. Without your help, I know that many of those souls would not now be in God’s arms. I, and the girl I refer to as my ‘sister’, have been doing this for such a long time that we sometimes forget the niceties. Watching you pray for each of the dead, and crying for them, is something I have not done in years. It was a truly touching scene to watch, and I will make sure I return to my old habit of praying for the souls before taking them home. It is how I will remember what you have done this night.”

“So now what? Do I just go on living my life? Knowing that you guys are real?”

“If that is your desire, Matthew. Or if you were to ask it of me, I could make you an Angel of Death permanently.”

The offer shocked me. After I got over my shock, I realised the offer also appealed to me; it meant I could spend all day every day with him, and then who knows what could happen.

“Stephen, I thank you for your offer; that is something I would need to think about. Despite seeing all of that death, I actually found tonight comforting. It has served to reinforce my faith in God.”

“And in answer to your deepest desire, Matthew; the one that you seem think you can keep hidden from me. I see your attraction to me in your eyes, and I feel your attraction to me in your heart. Yes, I am as you are. Yes, I would spend the rest of eternity with you. And as to what I look like under my robes, you only need to ask.”

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I had been just about to ask him to disrobe when I woke up.

Now, I have had some really fucked up dreams over the years, but getting it on with an Angel of Death is really breaking new ground for me. I’m not saying I wouldn’t have enjoyed being ravished by him; he was sex on legs, as my departed cousin would have said. Just what on earth was my mind thinking about for me to have had a dream like that?

I walked back into my bedroom and turned on the TV. There was some story on one of the news channels about a train crash last night in which hundreds of people had died. I didn’t really pay it any mind, as I towelled off. It was only as I started dressing that I saw it crumpled on the floor.

I knelt down beside the black velvet cloak. There was a note on it:

Call me

My Eternal Love

Stephen