Chapter 5 : Shared Dreams
1015 Words
Maya woke at exactly 3:17 a.m.
The digital clock glowed softly in the darkness.
3:17
For several seconds she simply stared at the numbers.
Breathing hard.
Heart racing.
The dream was already fading.
Pieces slipping away.
Fragments dissolving like mist.
Yet the feeling remained.
The overwhelming certainty that something had been watching her.
---
She sat upright in bed.
The cottage was silent.
No whispers.
No muddy footprints.
No figures lurking in armchairs.
Just silence.
---
And somehow that felt worse.
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The dream had been different this time.
Not longer.
Clearer.
---
She remembered standing on a shoreline beneath a black sky.
The endless sea stretching before her.
The water perfectly still.
The surface reflecting nothing.
No stars.
No moon.
No light.
---
And she hadn't been alone.
---
Hundreds of people stood beside her.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Strangers.
All facing the water.
All waiting.
---
Then something moved beneath the surface.
Something vast.
Large enough to displace entire oceans.
And every person on the shoreline stepped forward simultaneously.
---
Toward the water.
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Toward whatever waited below.
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Maya had awakened before she saw what happened next.
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She never wanted to know.
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The phone rang at 8:12 a.m.
The sound nearly made her spill coffee across the kitchen counter.
Nobody called anymore.
Most people texted.
The unexpected noise felt strangely intrusive.
---
The caller ID displayed an unfamiliar number.
---
Normally she would have ignored it.
Something made her answer.
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"Hello?"
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"Ms. Holloway?"
The voice belonged to a woman.
Calm.
Professional.
Educated.
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"Speaking."
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"My name is Dr. Eleanor Voss."
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The name meant nothing to Maya.
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"I'm sorry to contact you unexpectedly," the woman continued, "but I believe we need to discuss Blackwater Swamp."
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Every muscle in Maya's body tightened.
---
The coffee suddenly tasted bitter.
---
For several seconds she said nothing.
---
"How did you get this number?"
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"A mutual acquaintance."
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"Who?"
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A pause.
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"Detective Aaron Reeves."
---
That name meant even less.
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Maya considered ending the call.
---
Then Eleanor said something that stopped her cold.
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"Do you wake up at 3:17 every morning?"
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Silence filled the kitchen.
---
Maya's grip tightened around the phone.
---
"Who are you?"
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"I'm someone who thinks you're not imagining things."
---
---
Two days later Maya found herself sitting inside a university office she had never intended to visit.
Rain streaked the windows.
Students crossed the campus outside.
Laughing.
Talking.
Living ordinary lives.
---
Maya envied them.
---
Dr. Eleanor Voss sat across from her.
Mid-forties.
Sharp eyes.
Dark hair tied back neatly.
The sort of person who looked capable of solving impossible problems through sheer determination.
---
A thick folder rested on the desk between them.
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Eleanor opened it.
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"What I'm about to show you sounds ridiculous."
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Maya gave a humourless laugh.
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"You know where I spent last year."
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"Fair point."
---
Eleanor slid a photograph across the desk.
---
A child's drawing.
Crayon on paper.
Simple.
Crude.
---
Black water.
A shoreline.
A giant eye.
---
Maya stared.
---
Her pulse quickened.
---
"Where did this come from?"
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"A patient."
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Eleanor placed another photograph beside it.
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Then another.
And another.
And another.
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Soon the entire desk was covered.
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Dozens of drawings.
Different styles.
Different ages.
Different artists.
---
Yet every image showed the same thing.
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Black water.
The shoreline.
The eye.
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Exactly the same dream.
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"No."
The word escaped before Maya realised she had spoken.
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"No way."
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Eleanor nodded slowly.
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"That was my reaction too."
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"How many?"
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"Three hundred and forty-seven."
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Maya stared at her.
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"What?"
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"Three hundred and forty-seven documented cases."
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The number felt impossible.
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Eleanor opened another folder.
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Inside sat interview transcripts.
Medical records.
Sleep studies.
Psychological assessments.
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"The cases are spread across the country."
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Maya's stomach sank.
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"None of them know each other."
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"Correct."
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"They've never met?"
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"Correct."
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"They've never heard of Blackwater?"
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"Most haven't."
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The room suddenly felt colder.
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Because there was only one explanation left.
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The dreams were spreading.
---
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Eleanor removed a final document.
---
This one wasn't a drawing.
It was a chart.
---
Rows and rows of numbers.
Times.
Dates.
Sleep patterns.
---
Maya frowned.
---
"What am I looking at?"
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Eleanor hesitated.
For the first time she looked genuinely uneasy.
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"The part that scares me."
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She pointed toward a column.
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Maya read the figures.
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Then read them again.
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And again.
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Every patient had reported waking during the night.
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Not approximately.
Not within an hour.
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Exactly.
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3:17 a.m.
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Every single one.
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The blood drained from Maya's face.
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"No."
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Eleanor nodded.
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"Three hundred and forty-seven people."
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The office suddenly seemed very small.
---
Very quiet.
---
Very far away from safety.
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Because Maya already knew something Eleanor didn't.
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Amelia Carter disappeared shortly after 3:17.
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The muddy footprints appeared after 3:17.
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The figure in the armchair appeared after 3:17.
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And deep within Blackwater Swamp...
The ancient thing beneath the earth had first touched her mind at 3:17 in the morning.
---
The realization hit her like ice water.
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Someone-or something-was calling people.
Every night.
At exactly the same time.
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And hundreds were answering.
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As the thought settled into her mind, Maya glanced toward the office window.
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A man stood outside among the passing students.
Watching.
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Dark jacket.
Hands in his pockets.
Familiar face.
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Jace.
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For a split second their eyes met.
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Then he was gone.
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Vanished into the crowd.
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Leaving Maya staring at the empty space where he had stood.
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And for the first time since Blackwater burned, she felt something worse than fear.
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She felt urgency.
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Because whatever had survived the swamp wasn't waiting anymore.
It was growing.
- Writer
