Episode 3: Dream a Little Dream

Robert has vivid dreams involving a blonde woman and a monstrous creature. He seeks help from a psychologist who dismisses the dreams as symbolic. Frustrated, Robert agrees to see a spiritual guide recommended by the psychologist. Welcome, lost traveler, to another tale from beyond the event horizon presents podcast. You can die anywhere, but you chose to do it here, with us. We here on the other side appreciate your sacrifice. As you know, there is no escape once you are beyond the event horizon. That night, Robert had an incredible dream. Not since his teenage years had he experienced such an exhilarating one. The dream was about her, Paige, the girl he had seen during his junior year of high school when he visited Oregon State while scouting colleges. In the dream, Robert was sixteen again, full of youthful energy and hopelessly girl-crazy. He vividly remembered Paige brushing her beautiful brown hair out of her face, looking up at him like she knew he was staring. Then came that smile, not just any smile, but one that seemed capable of altering the trajectory of his life. The sun was behind her, its light shining through her hair, giving her an almost otherworldly aura. Somehow, he found the courage to walk toward her. As he approached, Paige turned and started to move away from the crowd of parents and students. Was she leading him somewhere more private? Hesitant but curious, Robert followed. When she disappeared around the corner of the library, she glanced back, smiled, and vanished behind the old brick building. Gathering himself, Robert distracted his parents with a quick excuse about needing the restroom and headed in her direction. He tripped over a loose paver along the way, stumbling awkwardly and drawing concerned looks from some parents on the tour. His heart raced as he reached the corner of the building. Before he could process what was happening, a hand grabbed his arm. It wasn't Paige, it was a blonde woman in her early twenties. Her entire body seemed to emit a soft, radiant light, and her expression was serene. Instinctively, he shielded his face from the brightness, as though the sun were shining directly into his eyes. The suddenness of the encounter shocked him, and he stumbled backward, losing his balance. The world spun, and when he regained his senses, he was seated in a dingy little office. The air smelled stale, and the peeling faux-leather chair beneath him squeaked as he shifted. It took a moment for recognition to dawn on him. This was the office where he had finalized the divorce from his first marriage. Everything about the room was painfully familiar. The rotting old desk in front of him, the dull yellow light fixtures overhead, and the oppressive weight of the moment itself. He glanced down and saw he was wearing the grey suit he had discarded years ago after meeting with the lawyers. The realization filled him with dread, and an uncontrollable urge to weep gripped him. He braced himself to see his ex-wife across the room, but when he looked up, it was the luminous blonde woman again. Her serene smile grew wider, as if trying to assure him that everything would be okay. For a fleeting moment, warmth radiated through him, a brief reprieve from the crushing sadness of the memory. Then abruptly a loud banging sound rattled the room. The warmth vanished, replaced by an acrid stench of decay, so overpowering it made him gag. The dread returned tenfold, and with it came the realization that something was terribly wrong. The back windows of the office shattered as monstrous tentacles burst through. They were translucent, grotesque, and covered with thousands of unblinking eyes. The room shook with the deafening roar of the creature, its sound so overwhelming it felt like the air itself was vibrating. The blonde woman recoiled, her serene expression twisting into a mask of anguish and fury. With a fluid motion she spun around to confront the monstrosity, reaching out toward it. The beast reared back, its tentacles lashing out in an attempt to grab Robert. Fear surged through him, waking him up in an instant. He bolted upright in bed, gasping for air. The last image burned into his mind was of the woman holding back the creature, her hands glowing with an unearthly light as the beast writhed in her grasp. Even as he sat in the safety of his room, something about the dream felt deeply unsettling. He couldn't shake the sense that he owed the woman his life, yet there was an underlying wrongness that gnawed at him. Robert went about his usual morning routine, but the feeling lingered. As the days passed, like most dreams, the memory began to fade. That following night Robert had another vivid dream. He was riding his bike along the walkway at Huntington Beach, California. His little brother and parents were with him, just as they had been during their 1996 vacation. The dream was a perfect replica of that day. Robert pedaled as fast as he could, laughing almost hysterically as he weaved in and out of the foot traffic on the path. He was chasing his brother, just like before. The people walking the path grew visibly irritated as the boys zoomed past them. The warm sun bathed him, and he closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his face up to absorb it. Strangely, the warmth seemed to come from his right side, which didn't make sense. Uneasy, he opened his eyes. It was night-time now. The walkway was more crowded than before, but the people had a strange, dazed look, shuffling along without purpose. Robert noticed a peculiar pattern. Every few seconds some people would disappear, only to be replaced by new ones. It was as though he had stumbled into some kind of transit point. The unsettling dread he'd felt the night before gripped him again, and adrenaline surged through his veins. He lost control of his bike. The wheels wobbled and he slid sideways, tumbling forward over the handlebars in a chaotic flip. The crumpled bike landed on top of him as he skidded straight into the left line of people. The collision triggered piercing screams. The people he struck seemed to awaken, their previously blank eyes suddenly filling with pupils before vanishing altogether. It dawned on him that he had caused them to wake up from their dream state. Was this what the blonde woman had done for him in his previous dreams? He recalled her appearance right before the translucent monstrosity attacked. Could her presence have been mere coincidence? Just as that thought crossed his mind, she appeared again. She was about five hundred feet away, walking past the line of dazed people on the right. As she moved, the walkers near her began to tremble and step aside, as though making way for her. The dread inside him intensified. The translucent monstrosity emerged once more, its writhing tentacles sweeping back and forth, smashing through the crowds. It let out a deafening roar that froze everyone in their tracks. Then one by one, the dream walkers disappeared entirely. The creature grew visibly enraged, its tentacles flailing violently at the now empty lines. Meanwhile the blonde woman began to glow with a blinding intensity, her radiance resembling the brilliance of the sun. She stepped away from the crowd and moved directly toward the nightmare. Suddenly a hurricane formed on the beach, and forty-foot waves crashed violently against the shore. Robert tried to pull himself up to run, but his leg was pinned by the handlebars of his bike. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. The monster oozed and slithered toward him, its thousands of eyes burning with fury. Even in the depths of his terror he found a small sense of calm when his eyes landed on the blonde woman. She stood as a beacon of light, defying the nightmare. The creature swung its tentacles at her, but each time they struck, sparks of light shot from her, halting the monster's attacks. Yet the relentless assault took its toll, she fell to the ground. Robert felt a surge of fear for her, tears streamed down his face as he tried to free himself. Then he woke up, drenched in sweat. That night Robert resolved to see a dream expert. The next day the feeling of dread refused to subside, he couldn't concentrate and called off work. His dreams had begun to bleed into his waking life, leaving him anxious and overwhelmed. Desperate, he called a psychologist, recommended by a friend. To secure a same-day appointment he lied to the receptionist, claiming he had thoughts of self-harm. He felt guilty for the deception, but his need for help outweighed the shame. By seven p.m. Robert found himself sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Holland's office. He was grateful to be there, afraid to risk falling asleep and encountering the nightmare again. The only solace he had in his dreams was the blonde woman. Her presence gave him a sense of protection, even as the monstrous creature sought to destroy her. When Dr. Holland came to greet him, her sudden appearance startled him. She apologized and after ten minutes of small talk he dove straight into the heart of his issues. He didn't remember everything about his dreams. Dr. Holland listened attentively, but ultimately dismissed the dreams as symbolic manifestations of his waking anxieties. She suggested they were merely projections of his inner turmoil, and offered to guide him through some relaxation techniques. Frustrated, Robert knew she didn't believe him. He felt certain these dreams weren't just figments of his imagination, they were real, and the danger they presented was real too. As she continued quoting New Age platitudes, his irritation boiled over. He leaped from his chair in a fit of rage. Dr. Holland, alarmed by his reaction, tried to calm him. Reluctant to let him leave in such a state, she told him about a friend of hers, a spiritual guide, someone better equipped to handle his unusual claims. Robert forced himself to breathe deeply, and composed himself. He agreed to let her call her friend, on the condition that he could see them immediately. Dr. Holland made the call, and Robert left her office with an appointment scheduled for later that night. When Robert walked into Guadalupe's office, the first thing that struck him was the taxidermy. Not just a few pieces, but dozens of animals, an overwhelming display. The sight unsettled him, and he instinctively took a step back toward the door. Something, however, made him stay. He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for whatever awaited him inside. The door to her office swung open, nearly hitting him in the face. He jumped back just in time. A frail, older woman shuffled out, her face tight with worry. Guadalupe clasped the woman's hand gently but firmly. "'Sprinkle lavender under your bed,' she said in a soothing voice, "'and you'll keep those things from stalking you again.'" The older woman nodded, her gratitude muted by fear. Guadalupe's demeanor changed for a moment. She gave the woman a searching glance and added, "'Have a good night,' with a soft smile. Then she turned toward Robert, her face lighting up with a strange familiarity. Guadalupe appeared to be in her early twenties. Her jet-black hair was cut in a sleek bob, and tattoos wound their way up her left arm and halfway down her right. There was something both playful and commanding about her presence, a confidence far beyond her years. She was bookishly attractive, but her intensity made Robert uneasy. She had all the markings of a millennial, and Robert hated millennials. "'Robert!' she exclaimed, her tone warm and familiar, like an old friend greeting someone dear. The sound of his name startled him. He hesitated, wondering if she was annoyed about the short notice appointment. Then she said something that made his stomach drop. "'I've been waiting for you for a very long time.' He blinked, confused. She motioned for him to step inside her interview area. The room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaotic taxidermy display outside. Without preamble, Guadalupe launched into rapid-fire statements. "'I've seen you in my dreams. I can perceive things from other realms, and I can tell—' she paused, fixing him with a piercing look. "'You've been marked by something, particularly nasty.' She gestured toward him vaguely. "'Your aura, it's damaged. There are places where no light or color is emitted. That's not good, Robert. Not good at all.' He stared at her in silence, unable to form a coherent response. It was probably for the best, as he felt on the verge of unleashing a string of curses that would have embarrassed a sailor. Before he could gather himself, Guadalupe reached for his hand and guided him to a chair. Turning her back to him, she lit something—sage, from the smell—and began waving the smoke around him in slow, deliberate motions. She circled it above his head, around his shoulders, then down toward his feet in a zigzag pattern. The thick, acrid smoke stung his throat, and he coughed reflexively. Guadalupe shot him a sharp glance, and he flushed in embarrassment. "'This is sage,' she explained. "'It might be too late, but it's worth trying, don't you think?' She gave a faint, mischievous smile before continuing her ritual. She then stuffed unlit bundles of sage into his jacket pockets and handed him additional clumps. "'In science,' she began, "'we're taught that our bodies have natural defenses. You know, white blood cells.' "'Right,' Robert muttered, uncertain where this was going. "'Exactly,' she said. "'The physical world is full of threats, viruses, bacteria, fungi. But science doesn't tell you about the other realm, the one beyond our natural sight. It's crawling with parasites, Robert, nasty entities that latch on to the vulnerable. Our Creator knew this, so he built a defense into us, a spiritual immune system. It works most powerfully when we sleep, as that's when we're most vulnerable.' Robert's thoughts immediately flashed to the blonde woman in his dreams. They continued, her voice growing more urgent. "'If the spiritual defense is strong enough, it wards off these parasites. If not, if the entity is particularly powerful, it tries to wake you up before you're consumed.' She paused, studying his reaction. He couldn't hide the fear, tightening his expression. She asked, "'Have you dreamed of people who seemed… lost, dreamers, trapped in transition?' His stomach churned, the memory of the Huntington Beach walkway flooding back. He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Guadalupe seemed to understand, her own expression darkening. She rummaged through her desk, then turned and handed him several crystals. "'Crystals can help in many cases,' she explained. You place them under your bed to dispel negative energies. But for you,' her voice trailed off, "'what's happening to you is beyond what these can fix. Still, carry them along with the sage. They might bolster your spiritual antibodies.' Robert's mind reeled, struggling to process her words. The idea that he was being hunted, not just in his dreams, but by something real, something deadly, was too much to bear. Guadalupe's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "'You have to go,' she said suddenly. "'Now!' Her abruptness startled him. "'What? Why?' "'Because anyone around you is in danger. The parasite, it feeds on others through you.' Her words sent a chill through him. Guadalupe pointed toward the door, her tone urgent. "'Cleanse yourself. Go. Now!' Stumbling out into the frigid winter air, Robert's mind raced. He barely remembered the drive home. The next thing he knew he was standing under scalding hot water in his shower, the crystals and sage piled nearby. He could feel exhaustion pulling him down, but he resisted with every ounce of willpower he had left. Dressing in pajama pants with the most pockets he could find, he stuffed them with sage and crystals, hoping for even the smallest protection. He crawled into bed clutching a baseball bat. It was a futile gesture, useless against the horrors in his dreams, but it brought him some small comfort. As sleep overtook him, his last thought was of the bat. It felt oddly like a rifle in his hands. When Robert became aware of himself again, he was shrouded in thick swirling fog. The air was cold, and an eerie wind pushed the mist around him. Somewhere in the distance he heard explosions and gunfire, the sounds growing louder with each passing moment. Then, faintly, he saw a light ahead. He stumbled toward it, his steps slow and unsteady in the clinging mud. The light resolved into a massive glowing orange crystal. As he stared at it, a fragmented memory of a girl with tattoos, flickered through his mind. Before he could dwell on it, a teenage boy in a Revolutionary War uniform stumbled toward him. Sir, the boy gasped, collapsing at Robert's feet. As you requested, we're in full retreat. Robert helped the boy to his feet, his mind racing. The dream was pulling him in again, but he fought against its grip. The boy sprinted off, and Robert turned toward another light in the distance, a blue glow, faint through the fog. He began trudging toward it, his boots sinking deep into the mud with every step. By the time he reached the light, he realized it was another crystal, glowing with an ethereal blue hue. The sight triggered a memory of the girl with brown hair from the college campus, and then the blonde woman. That same fear gripped him again, cold and unrelenting. In the opposite direction, a bright light began to move toward him. It was so bright that he had to cover his eyes and step back. His mind told him to run, but he felt a calmness wash over him, and he suddenly remembered the blonde girl. He wanted to be close to her. The cannon fire grew closer, and he felt the concussion of the explosion throw him to the ground. The light disappeared, and he felt a coldness fill his bones. As the fog cleared, he looked down into a valley. He was standing on a bluff, and below him, it was like rush hour in a big city. Millions of people moved back and forth. It was just like the people in his Huntington Beach dream, only in greater numbers. Fear ran up his spine as he remembered the words of the tattooed woman. He needed to find the blonde girl before it was too late. Guadalupe, the tattooed woman, had warned him. The parasite will use your dreams to feed on countless others. Suddenly, the thick fog flowed backward as if it were a single wave in the ocean. He saw the beast. It was much larger now, glowing almost as brightly as the blonde girl. Fear intensified within him, and he felt as if he was going to vomit. The monstrosity's thousands of eyes were filled with sheer determination and anger. On the opposite side of him stood the blonde girl, her face contorted in a grimace. When she noticed that Robert was looking at her, she began to smile. It was the happiest smile he had ever seen. She started to glow even brighter than the beast, and he immediately felt better moving toward her. Her eyes were filled with love, and he quickened his pace. The creature let out a sharp, wailing growl. Robert fell to his knees and covered his ears with his hands. The blonde bared her teeth, and hatred radiated from her. Robert recoiled as he felt her desire for the destruction of the creature. The people in the endless march in the valley started to disappear as they woke up. Robert pushed himself to his feet and scrambled toward the girl. She held out her arms, and her glow intensified. He reached within arm's reach of her, but a fear gripped him as he suddenly realized he was in mortal danger. He looked back at the creature and tried to stop his forward motion. He began to cry as he realized that the creature's eyes did not hold anger, but fear. In fact, the fear that gripped Robert was mirrored in those thousand eyes. He remembered what Guadalupe had said, the spiritual antibody would try to wake you if it could not protect you. His memories shifted to the pier, where the monster swung its arms, waking the sleepwalkers. It had always tried to protect Robert and other humans. It was of them. The blonde appeared to be some sort of spiritual anglerfish, using beauty and the calmness she emitted to lure Robert away from his defense system. The luminous monster. The creature's hideous form might have been there to wake him up. In the last moments of his life, Robert had an epiphany. The nightmares we have are not there to scare us, but to bring us back to the waking world if our spirit is in danger. As he looked back at the blonde, she split in half at the midsection. Her torso was filled with sharp teeth, dripping with venom. The upper half of the blonde was fake. She had always been the real danger. She must have used some sort of hypnosis to make her victims see whatever kind of person made them feel calm. As the blonde no longer needed to coax Robert, the illusion faded, and the spiritual parasite's true form appeared. In her true form, there were no eyes, only thousands of teeth leading into a mouth with an emptiness that felt eternal. Robert heard the crunch of his own bones, and the luminous monster disappeared, no longer needed. Thank you, lost traveler, for joining us on another unintended journey beyond the event horizon. We hope you join us next time for a new macabre tale. Until then, stay alive and breathe if you can. you