A Dream Ain't a Premonition

Starting to think my nightmares since comin’ back ain’t as normal as I thought. Bad dreams, I expect. After that hell, it’s natural. Not normal if I could just go back to sleeping like a babe. Hell, I haven’t slept sound for years, anyhow.

This morning, though, I decided. Going to document these dreams, somewhat. Never been much of a believer, that dreams mean things. Starting to now, because one of the things I know is that you can’t dream of someone you ain’t seen before. Curtis told me, actually. Said, even if you dream of a stranger, that stranger will have the face of someone you’ve seen before. Might just be someone you’ve passed on the street, might be someone’s picture you’ve seen before. Either way, your brain won’t make up a whole new face.

These women, I know I ain’t seen either of them. I’d remember. I’d know one for a fact, because she wasn’t human.

In my dream, I was watching this blonde. Nothing creepy, don’t think I was even really there. It was like I was a ghost, or her guardian angel. Watching over her shoulder while she was checking something on her laptop. She’d set herself up in an alley by a fast-food joint, looked real unpleasant, but she didn’t seem to care. Had on these black leather biker gloves, blonde curls, leather jacket. A knife. One a lot like mine. In this dream, I saw her and I knew, she was a Hunter.

She was reading something, then packed up her laptop real quick. Stowed it in her bag, looking around like she was in trouble. Then she took off, and I was following her. Me, and someone else. I felt Her, wasn’t paying her much mind, yet.

The blonde girl, she was running and looking for something. I knew when she’d found it, because she pulled that knife. Six guys, brawling. Two against one, two against one.

It was Curtis and me. Windmill was tossing his head, angry, and I saw. They’d done something to his legs, and that scar on his side had been torn wide open. He was dying.

So was I. The blonde girl was tearing the two strangers off me, but it was too late. Plain as day, I was bleeding too bad to live through it.

And then I heard Her. That hypnotic little laugh. Same one that’s been haunting me the past few nights.

I turned, eyes down. Saw the way her white dress was flowin’, rippling like there was a breeze. Fingers like blades, coming at my face. Not the ‘me’ dying, on the ground, but me. The one watching.

She started to tilt my chin, and then I woke up.

Think I’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep, max. Curtis is being real understanding. Said, I’ve been making allowances for his disabilities, he ain’t got an issue making allowances for mine. Travel’s slower as a result, but I feel safer. If I rush it, we just might wind up dead.

I can’t die before I know what happened to Ambrose and Clara. Think part of the reason I’m going so slow, though, is I’m afraid. If I don’t find them, what then? Hell, I don’t even know where I’m trying to look, really. Going down to Mexico is just my first thought, and I could be dead wrong.