Raman Jalota's Stories


The Dream Catcher
by
Raman Jalota

    Martin Derethy laughed as he bent over and put his hands in Arizona and Utah with his feet in Colorado and New Mexico. 
    “Look at me I am in four states at once.”
    He straightened up and pushed the hair off his face.  The wind was howling and it was chilly even in the sun.  He looked around and saw Denise standing in one of the stalls her eyes transfixed at something.  She heard him coming and gave him a strange object to look at.   It was a circular object made of threads, beads and feathers.
    “What is it?”
    “Read the paper.  It’s wonderful.”
    Martin looked at the piece of the cardboard  – Dream Catcher - Native Americans of many tribes believe in the power of Dream Catchers. Legend has it that they allow good dreams to pass to the owner through the center of the web and trap bad dreams and negative thoughts in the web to burn up in the sunlight. - Hang the dream catcher over the infant’s crib for its magical powers to work.
    She took it from him and showed him how it dangled, “See, you attach it to the top of the baby’s crib and it protects him from bad dreams. It helps my baby grow up happy and sweet.”  She rubbed her seven-month pregnant belly.
    “Cute.”
.….
    “No!  It’s mine.  I don’t want you to give it to him.” 
    “Don’t scream like that Jerry.  Remember you are a big boy now and we should give the dream catcher to your little brother.”
    He shook his head violently with tears starting at the corner of his eyes.
    “Aren’t you a big boy now?  Mommy’s big boy?”
    He started to sob, “I am only six years old mommy.  I want my Deemee.”
    “Don’t you want your little brother to have nice, fun dreams too?”
    “I don’t want a little brother. Give him back to the tooth-fairy.”
    Denise burst out laughing, “O.K.  O.K.  You can keep your Deemee.  I will try another toy for little Jimmy.”
    Jerry stared for several minutes as she pulled up her top and started nursing the eight-week-old.   Tears running down his face, Jerry clutched the dream catcher tightly and ran to his room.
.….

    The dreams came. They always came.  He was sitting on top of soft white clouds, floating through an orange sky.  He could fly at will.  Rising higher and higher, pushing his bottom half of the body, he turned and floated on the roller coaster path woven by the dream catcher.
    Suddenly he plunged headfirst deep towards the earth, buildings flashing by him as he saw the concrete pavement come and meet him with unimaginable force.  His head snapped back and he stopped breathing.  Overwhelming pain went through his entire body and he screamed silently as his neck snapped.
    He awoke shaken.  He lay in bed wondering why the dream had turned so ugly when the cry of the baby next door started. 
    He murmured, “Oh shut up.”
    In another minute he could hear his mother getting up and then the darkness of his room was lightened as the lights in the kitchen were turned on.  And then he could hear his mother cooing to the baby as she fed him.  Jerry rocked himself back to sleep.
..…
    The dreams were back.  But it felt so real, just like the flying dream he had earlier.  He saw a little boy walking silently towards his parent’s bedroom door.  “Oh that’s me”, he realized.
    Jerry turned the doorknob very slowly.  As he felt the door give, he pushed it carefully.  When he had it about eight inches open, he walked into the room.  By now his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness and he could see quite clearly.  His parents were sound asleep, their relaxed breathing was rhythmic as if they were whispering to each other in their sleep.
    He made out the crib at the foot of the bed and moved towards it.  Little Jimmy was sleeping on his stomach with his left cheek resting on a small pillow, a little toy duck clutched in his hand. 
Jerry reached into the crib and put his hands on each side of Jimmy’s neck.  He reached under Jimmy’s shoulders and lifted him gently out of the crib, letting the light blanket slip off slowly.  He lifted him up and put him on his shoulder just like his mother had shown him.  Slowly he walked out of the bedroom door while gently patting the sleeping Jimmy.
    “Now what am I going to do?” He murmured to himself.  He put jimmy in his own bed and moving silently went back to his parent’s bedroom and closed the door carefully.  He left it just ajar and moved back to his room.
“Do it.”  He heard the voice clearly.
“Do what?”  He knew he had to do something but could not decide what or how.
“Pick up the pillow and carefully put it on Jimmy’s mouth.”  The voice was gentle but firm and guided him precisely.
“Now climb into the bed and sit on top of the pillow.”
“Hold him, don’t let him move.”
“Hold him … hold it … hold it … say your ABC’s quietly.  Good boy!”
Jerry picked up Jimmy and put him on his shoulder. Gently patting him, he slowly moved to his parent’s bedroom, pushed open the door quietly, put Jimmy back in the crib.  He put the blanket back over him and walked out.  He jumped into his bed and hid his face under the blanket.
..…
    Denise held Jerry tightly as tears rolled down her face.  Little Jimmy Derethy was being buried and a slow rain had made the funeral even more unbearable. Jerry tried to wriggle out of his mother’s grasp.  This day stinks.  All this crying and stuff is upsetting.  Why can’t I be at home and play with my toys?
    Martin couldn’t bear to look at her face.  He mumbled something and left her with her parents.  He stopped by at the corner bar.  Pitchers was somewhat crowded as the Broncos were playing.  However, they had lost 10 straight games and were at the bottom of the league and that kept most of the fans away.  He walked towards the counter when he spotted a group of his friends sitting at a table, waving at him.
    They shook hands and offered their condolences.  He sat down next to Tom and told the waitress to bring him a beer.  As the evening progressed, Tom was able to loosen him up and sent him home with the advice to take care of Denise and Jerry.  He had also suggested him to get her a dog to take her mind off the tragedy.
..…
    The four-month-old Dalmatian was full of energy and kept Denise busy.  He found Jerry to be more fun though and would run to find him in his room or wherever he was and nudge him into going outside and throwing a ball or a stick for him to fetch.
    Jerry enjoyed the new dog till one day he found him in his room pawing his way through his toys and bed.  It found the dream catcher and ran with it in his mouth.  Jerry chased him to the front yard but couldn’t make him give it to him.  He ran inside, grabbed a tennis ball and threw it at the dog. The dog dropped the dream catcher and ran after the ball.  The dream catcher was wet, torn and filthy.  Jerry started to cry.  He slowly walked into his room and clutching the dream catcher to his chest, he sobbed himself to sleep.
    And the dreams came as always.  He was sitting by a pond.  Ducks were quacking and swimming near him and he was throwing bits of bread that they were gobbling up.  Two ducks swam ashore and started walking towards him.  He held out a large piece and one of them took it off his hand.  The other duck came closer and they started eating off his hands.
    Suddenly a dog came running out of nowhere and attacked the ducks, blood and feathers were everywhere.  He screamed and woke up.  He felt something in his hand and looked in horror as the dirty, torn dream catcher reminded him of the pieces of the ducks, feathers, blood and dirt.  He walked out the backdoor and went to the large cottonwood tree that always seemed so inviting.  He sat down by it and grabbed a stick that lay there.
    As he sat there twirling the little stick, the dog came running up to him, ready to play.  He didn’t move.  The dog stopped near him pawing at him trying to get him to throw the stick. 
    He heard the voice clearly, “Grab him … grab him by the collar.”
    He reached over and grabbed the dog by the collar.  The dog wagged his tail excited at the prospect of play.
    “Put the stick under the collar … good … now put your feet around him and turn the stick … don’t let it go … turn more … harder … harder.”
Denise heard the yelp of the dog and came running.  “What the hell are you doing?  Let him go.” She screamed.
Jerry let go of the stick.  She bent over the dog and slowly unwrapped the stick, the dog whimpered twice and lay still.
    “Jerry, why the hell…”
    “He tore up my Deemee. Bad dog.”
..…
    When Martin walked in, he took one look at Denise’s ashen face and knew something was terribly wrong.
    “I saw it with my own eyes.” She sobbed uncontrollable. 
    “I saw Jerry kill the dog with the stick …  he stuck it under his collar and choked him …  Oh my God!  What’s happening to us?
    “I have a horrible feeling about this whole thing. That dream catcher is what started it both times.”
    Martin held her as her body shook violently, “Both times?”
    “Jerry got very angry when I tried to give that old dream catcher to Jimmy … the day he died.  And then today, the dog ran away with the same damn dream catcher …”
..…
    Martin sat across from Tom and the Indian.  The Indian’s face was old and wrinkled but his eyes twinkled on the mention of the dream catcher.
    “Ah! The myth of the dream catcher.”
    “My wife thinks it has certain powers that have made my son violent; violent enough to kill our dog … and she suspects …”
    The old man rubbed his hands together and closed his eyes, “How long did you use this on your son?”
    “I don’t know, I assume he had it all the time.  Last six years.  Apparently he slept with it under his pillow.”
    “And how did your new baby die?”
    “SIDS … uhh …. Sudden infant death syndrome; he died in his sleep … just stopped breathing.”
    “And your wife says it happened the same day that she tried to take the dream catcher away from your older son?”
    “Yes.”
    He stared into space for several minutes then he looked into Martin’s eyes, “Sometimes, as the legend goes, the dream catcher can work too well, trapping thousands of bad dreams and not keeping any good dreams.  The dream catcher can then be taken over by the evil forces resident in the bad dreams.  It can start sending bad dreams and controlling the infant to do what it asks it to do.”
    “You mean the dream catcher is making my son do bad things?  Like killing the dog and …”
    “Where is this dream catcher?  Do you have it with you?”
    “No, I think my wife found the shredded remains of it with the dog and must have thrown it away.”
    “No!  You must find the dream catcher and bring it to me.  I will rid it of the evil properly before it can be disposed off.  You must find it and bring it to me.  You may not have any time left.  If he has killed, he is going to kill again.  The evil spirits will continue to use him again and again.  You must hurry home, find it and bring it back to me … today if possible.”
..…
    Denise sat down on the sofa tired.  She had finally cleaned Jerry’s room and from top to bottom and put a bible on the bookshelf near his bed.  She tried to talk to him but his eyes were turning cold and gray.  He didn’t want to be held anymore and tried to run away from her.
    What is happening to us?  Why me?  Why is my wonderful world being shattered?  She sat rocking herself till the grief and the tiredness overcame her, she put a cushion under her head and drifted into sleep.
..…
    Jerry didn’t like the tidy look of his room.  I had things where I wanted them and she had to come and screw it up.
    He saw the bible in the bookshelf and took it down.  This is too hard, not at all like Dr. Seuss or any other books I have. 
    He threw it in the wastebasket and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.  The afternoon sun was drifting towards the west and slowly his eyes shut and he drifted into his dream world.
    He was running up a small hill with wild flowers swinging in the breeze and clouds moving overhead.  He spotted a little white pigeon and ran after it.  As the pigeon rose to escape him the hill started to rotate.  Slowly at first and then faster and faster.  The wind uprooted grass and trees and everything started rising up. He spat out the dirt from his mouth but his eyes were burning.  And then the voice was back.
    “Pick up your pencil, boy.”
    He walked to the desk and picked up a freshly sharpened pencil.  At least that is something mom did worthwhile.
    The voice guided him to the living room.  He approached his mother slowly.
    “Put your thumb on top of the eraser and place the pencil near the corner of her nose and eye and push it in.  The eye-socket will glide it into her brain. Fast and quick … Do it now … good boy.”
    He saw his mother shudder slowly but no sound came out of her.  He heard the sound of the garage-door opening, withdrew the pencil and ran to his room.  He jumped on his bed and pretended to be asleep.
    Martin walked in, “Honey, we must find that dream-catcher and get rid of it right away. Denise? … …”
THE END    (2452 words)

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Copyright © 2004 Raman Jalota. All rights reserved. No part of this electronic publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.