Angel's Demon

13. Dreams

13. Dreams

Sarah woke up with a start. She’d had the same dream again. That made it three nights in a row. There was an important message that the dream was trying to tell her, but she couldn’t figure it out.

I have this recurring dream, Sarah told her friends. It’s getting more frequent.

Me too, Felicitia replied. We should compare notes. Maybe we dream-talk as well.

Doug snorted. That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.

Sarah poked out her tongue at Doug, who grinned back at her.

Maybe it’s only girls who can dream-talk, Andy suggested. He liked the idea of dream-talking. Lately his dreams had been getting weird though, and he wouldn’t want anyone to see them.

How much of the dream can you remember? Felicitia asked.

Only fragments, Sarah replied. And it annoys the s**t out of me that I can’t remember it all, no matter how hard I try to replay it.

Doug and Andy sniggered. They always thought it was funny when one of the girls swore, even something as mild as s**t.

Show it to us, Felicitia encouraged Sarah.

Okay, Sarah replied, but don’t laugh.

Black and white images played, somewhat glitchy, like an old damaged movie reel. There was a snowy blizzard, only it wasn’t. When it thinned out, they were able to see that it was hundreds of downy, white feathers.

It’s something to do with birds, Doug said. What’s so special about that?

I never said it was special, Sarah replied. Keep watching, there’s more.

A glowing ring about the size of a dinner plate followed the feathers, drifting down slowly to land softly on top of the blanketed earth. The view shifted to an aerial one, and a ring of twenty-four stones gradually appeared around the halo. Something started to sprout from the sides of the stones, and they linked together to form a chain.

I think that’s us, Sarah said.

The stones began to advance towards the halo and shrank as they did so. As soon as they touched the halo-like ring the image winked out.

Andy was beginning to think that his dreams weren’t so weird. He had dreamed something similar, although his stones were mice. They were all riding on the back of a giant white swan that was wearing a loose-fitting glowing collar around its neck.

I see flowers and a vase, instead of stones and a halo, Felicitia said, quickly adding, in my dream, that is. Different coloured flowers that are just beginning to bloom.

Felicitia quickly played her dream for the others. It was in glorious colour, and she detected a hint of jealousy from Sarah. There was no ring in her dream. Instead a glowing gold-tinged crystal vase came to rest on the blanket of white, though from the top, as the flowers leapt into the vase, it could be considered ring-like.

You’re right, Sarah, Andy said. That’s us. What does the other stuff represent though?

Fallen angels? Sarah said.

Don’t be stupid, Doug replied. There’s only one ring in the dreams that looks like a halo. That’s singular, not plural.

Well aren’t you the smarty pants, Sarah retorted, though secretly she was proud of how clever Doug could be when he applied himself.

Do fallen angels have white feathers? Andy asked.

How would I know? Doug replied. It’s not like there’s one living next door that I could ask.

But what does it mean? Sarah asked.

We’ve got to find the others, Felicitia said. I think we’ll have our answer when we’re reunited.

We’ve been trying to reach them with thought-talk for the last three years, Doug complained.

Then we’ll try some other way. Felicitia was getting tired of Doug’s negative attitude. Maybe they can’t thought-talk. They could have different abilities to us. They might be able to move things with their minds, or —

That’d be cool, Andy interrupted, to be able to move things with your mind.

Anyway, we’re getting off-topic, Felicitia said, trying to steer the conversation back in the right direction. We need to find out their last names and track them down. Social media would be a good starting point, but we’ll need those names.

What if they’re dead? Sarah asked.

They’re not dead, Felicitia replied. We’d know it.

How can you be so sure? Sarah asked.

That pull we feel, the throbbing headaches that we’ve been ignoring… plus there’s the dreams.

Sarah wanted to believe that Felicitia was right, yet the little voice of reason was sowing the seeds of doubt.