The Afterlife series Box Set (Books 1-3) (38 page)

I shook my head. I hesitated to answer. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell Mick about it. Telling would mean I had to relive it all and I really didn’t want that. But I couldn’t lie to Mick either.

“No, this was a new one,” I said and hoped to end it here. 

Mick nodded. “What was it about?”

I sighed. Then I decided to tell him everything. I hurt inside while I was telling it, but it also felt good to talk about it, to get it out. I felt like I had actually been there. The smells, the sounds, and the emotions. It was all so real to me. When I was done, Mick stared at me. He hadn’t touched his coffee all this time.

“That was quite a nightmare,” he said.

I drank some more of my coffee. I waited for the caffeine to kick in.

“The worst part is that I have no idea what it meant. Why did I dream this right now? Who were these people? Did it really happen?” I said and added, “I think it did. It was so realistic.”

Mick drank again while he stared pensively into thin air.

“Why should it mean anything?” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I just feel like it does.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a feeling. Maybe it’s nothing …” I sighed again. It was always hard to explain a feeling to people. It was like explaining a color to a blind person.

“What feeling?” he asked.

“Well … It was like I was meant to see all this. Like someone wanted me to be there. Like I was supposed to see it, because someone wanted to tell me something … I don’t know.” I stopped myself. I was rambling, I thought. It didn’t make sense. “I’m sorry. I’m a little off this morning.”

“No, no, keep talking,” Mick said. “It makes perfectly sense to me.”

I looked into his eyes. Being with him always made me so happy. He always tried to understand me. I liked that about him. In that moment I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t want all of the attention in the hall to be on us right now.

“What I’m wondering is if the dream was about me. About how I died,” I said with a low voice.

Mick nodded again. “I can understand why you would think that,” he said. “But how would that fit with the other dream you are having? The one where your parents are looking for you, where they don’t know that you are dead?”

I sighed and drank some more coffee. “I don’t know. That’s what I don’t understand either. In this dream the parents were both killed as well as the teenage girl.”

“Did you see her face?”

“No, I couldn’t see it. But she had brown hair that looked exactly like mine.”

Mick looked at me with a smile. “Have you ever thought about the fact that it might just be dreams? A product of your vivid imagination?”

“Well, I did spend the evening reading about catching dreams,” I said. “So yes, the thought has entered my mind.”

I couldn’t help smiling. Of course that was it. I was being foolish. It was only logical. Before bedtime I had read about dreams and how they affected people and how spirits could use people’s dreams to guide them in their lives, but also how the evil spirits, the Se’irims, often gave people nightmares to scare them from doing things and keep them from living good and meaningful lives by giving them fear in their hearts. It was only natural for me to dream about it afterward. Even the pictures in the book could have scared me enough to have nightmares afterward.

“There you go,” Mick said when he saw my smile. “Now eat your bagel.”

As he said that my best friend in class, Abhik, arrived at the table. Quickly he grabbed some breakfast between his hands. I was happy to see him. Last year he had been sick with a strange illness causing him to freeze inside a horrible nightmare. For months, he and some other students who had been struck by the same illness were taken away while the Angels and teachers at the school tried to figure out what was going on. As it turned out, it was caused by the demon Azazel who somehow had it in for me. But as I refused to bow down to him, Abhik was released from the illness and so was Jason, my human friend who was a drug addict for years. Jason was now free and doing good things on earth by helping other young people out of their addictions. I hadn’t visited him for a long time, since I didn’t want to hurt Mick’s feelings. He knew that Jason and I had a special bond. He knew that I still loved him in a special way. But our worlds were too different, so I had to let him go. I had to focus on my life here in the Spiritual Realm, while Jason was still in the natural. That was just the way it was. I had decided to be with Mick and I was sticking to that decision.

“What’s the rush?” I asked Abhik as he swallowed the breakfast in one bite.

I finally lifted the bagel from my plate and ate. I felt Mick’s hand in mine under the table.
This is going to be a great year
, I thought. I was not going to let some ugly nightmare ruin this wonderful year for me.

“Are you kidding me?” Abhik asked with his mouth full. “Dream Catching class starts in only five minutes.”

C
HAPTER 3

O
UR NEW TEACHER IN
Dream Catching was quite … different. As we entered through the door to the class room we found him floating in the air above his desk with both legs crossed in sitting position. His bare feet met in the middle in a weird way and were both bending down toward the ground, looking really strange and quite impossible. The palms of his hands met in front of his chest and his eyes were closed. He was old, very old, with skin like old leather. He was almost bald and wearing nothing but a robe swept around his body. As he sat there, he was humming.

I couldn’t help but stare. Abhik found a chair and sat down. I followed and sat at the desk next to him. The teacher didn’t seem to notice that the whole class had entered and waited for him to begin his teaching. He kept on humming.

“Do you think we should tell him that class has started?” I whispered to Abhik.

“Mr. Ngodup Dhamdul knows we are here,” said Abhik. “He starts when he is ready.”

“You know him?”

“I have heard about him from other students. Supposedly he is Tibetan. Used to be a pastor at the Christian church in Tibet.”

“A Christian Tibetan? I have never heard that!”

“Not many people have. But the church was actually built about 150 years ago by French missionaries. They have their own Bible in Tibetan and songs and everything. There are only about 800 of them in Tibet though.”

“Wow.”

“Mr. Dhamdul and his whole family were killed by the Chinese. He was arrested during a peaceful protest, tortured, and beaten nearly to death at a secret jail. After his release from prison, he suffered from a serious health condition that eventually killed him. Then they burned his house down with his whole family sleeping in it.”

“That’s a terrible story,” I said with husky voice.

“We all have our stories,” Abhik said with a little smile.

“Except for me,” I said.

“You will get yours. You are not the only one here who doesn’t know how she died. Most people don’t know. Jackline, the Cornwell twins and I are the only ones in this class who know our stories. And we are not even sure that we know everything. We will see for ourselves when graduation day comes.”

The humming stopped and Mr. Dhamdul opened his eyes slowly. Then he smiled. I will never forget that smile. It was the sweetest, most comforting smile I had ever seen. His eyes were narrowed and it was almost as if he was laughing with no sound. He seemed so happy, so peaceful. I was in awe. A man with his story—how could he be like that? How could he demonstrate such contentment and peace at mind? That was beyond my understanding. I just knew that if someone had killed my entire family I would be angry and want some kind of vindication. I knew anger was a dangerous, deceiving feeling, that I had to be careful not to let it into my heart. But ever since I had that dream, I couldn’t help thinking that if this had really happened to my family, if it was in fact the way I had died, I was going to find that killer and … well I don’t know what I would do. But something.

Slowly Mr. Dhamdul descended from his position and soon he was sitting on his desk. He looked at all of us and was still smiling from ear to ear.

“Now,” he said. “Can anyone tell me what you think dream catching is?”

Nigel was first with his hand in the air.

“Yeees,” said Mr. Dhamdul.

“A dream catcher is something you hang from the ceiling to take away bad dreams.”

Mr. Dhamdul burst into a heartily laughter.

“That is correct,” he said. “In old Ojibwe culture, a dream catcher, or
bawaajige nagwaagan
meaning
dream snare
, is a handmade object based on a willow hoop, on which is woven a loose net or web. The dream catcher is then decorated with personal and sacred items such as feathers and beads. The Ojibwa believed that a dream catcher changes a person’s dreams. Only good dreams would be allowed to filter through. Bad dreams would stay in the net, disappearing with the light of day. Good dreams would pass through and slide down the feathers to the sleeper.”

“So is that what we are supposed to do?” asked Mai.

“Yes … and no,” answered Mr. Dhamdul, still with a smile.

“I don’t understand,” Mai said.

“Yes, you are supposed to be dream catchers who change people’s dreams. No, you are not supposed to filter dreams and only let the good ones go through.”

“Why not?”

“Because some people need a bad dream to get the message through.”

“Why is that?” asked Nigel.

“Let me illustrate this with an example from something that really happened. A woman dreamed one night about four Angels all dressed in black. Even their wings were black because they were in mourning. These were not the glorious, beautiful Angels she wanted to see. Instead the spirit trying to get the message through used something that would really make her pay attention and listen. The woman was really scared and asked the one closest to her why they were so sad. And the Angel replied that they were sad because she was dying. Unless the woman did something, she was going to die, they said. Then they were gone.

“Instantly, the woman woke her husband and told him the angel’s message. ‘What do you think it means?’ she asked. ‘I think you need to see a doctor right away,’ he replied firmly. The woman had not seen a doctor for years. When the woman went and saw the doctor, she told him about her dream and he took it seriously. Then the doctor did a full battery of tests and a biopsy and as it turned out the woman had cancer and had to have surgery right away. He told her to be thankful for the warning the angels gave her. With the kind of cancer she had, there are no symptoms until it is too late. The woman had surgery and is now living cancer-free.”

A great silence filled the classroom. The silence meant different things to us all. I found myself thinking about Jason and how I could have used this to help him.

“So now you know what the purpose of this class is,” said Mr. Dhamdul. “But before we get to it, you need to learn the hard part.”

We all looked at him with anticipation. What could the hard part be?

Mr. Dhamdul was still smiling and made his eyes narrow while looking at us. A great ambiance surrounded him and this classroom. Everything seemed so calm, almost moving in slow motion. It was really peaceful, like there was nothing in the world to worry about.

“I have to teach you how to catch a dream.”

Mr. Dhamdul had barely finished his sentence when class ended.

“Please read pages 12 through 34 in your textbook,” he said as we got up from our seats and hurried out.

Two hours of History of the Angels followed with Mrs. Higgins before it was finally time for lunch. That was my favorite part of the day, when Mick and I would eat together and then go for a float in the Butterfly Garden or fly over the castle.

“So are you feeling better?” Mick asked as we found a private spot behind a cloud. A lot of students enjoyed flying during lunch break, so it could be hard to find privacy.

“Yeah. Mr. Dhamdul’s class really made me feel good,” I said.

Mick came close and grabbed my chin. He looked me in the eyes before he kissed me. Tenderly. Causing me to forget everything around me. Only remembering that I was his, that he loved me, that he wanted me. When his lips left mine he whispered, “I miss those lips all day when you are in class. You are everything to me. I couldn’t breathe without you.” He lifted my hand with the ring and kissed it. “I can’t wait to make you mine.”

I clung to him. Held him close to my body. I never wanted him to let go again. I wanted him to love me, to want me, to protect me. From what? I asked myself. My own self-destruction? I had something good here and I really didn’t want to lose it again.

“So I have been thinking,” he said while removing a lock of hair from my face.

“Don’t do that,” I said laughing. “It might cause problems.”

“Maybe, but I have to say that I am still a little worried about you.”

“About me? Why?”

“That thing with Azazel, the demon. I don’t think it is over yet.”

I sighed deeply. I knew he was right. Of course he was. He always was. I had refused the demon’s temptation, but he was still out there. He was physically tied under the desert in Egypt, but Salathiel, the Angel and Headmaster, had told me he had gotten stronger. Apparently he worked on some whole other level and he didn’t even need to be here physically. He worked through people. His entrance was their weak hearts. That was one of the reasons why it was so important for us to protect our hearts and not let feelings like greed, jealousy, and anger into them. My uprising anger over my dream was a good example of how I could open a door for Azazel to enter and use me. I couldn’t let that happen.

“I know …” I said, not knowing what anyone could do about it.

“You heard what Salathiel and Rahmiel said. We must have a traitor on the school. Someone let Adrian out of the dungeons. That someone might come after you again. Azazel is not one to give up that easily, just because you weakened him a little.”

I nodded and clung tighter to Mick. I had talked to Rahmiel about how important it was for me to be careful. For some reason Azazel was after me. He wanted to destroy me. To make me join him on the other side. I had wondered a lot about it. I couldn’t figure out why he would pick me, of all people. I was really insignificant and ordinary. I wasn’t good at anything really and I couldn’t see how I could pose any threat. But one thought kept popping into my mind. I didn’t like it one bit, but I had a hard time keeping it out. I was afraid that there was something about me, something inside of me that attracted Azazel to me. Mrs. Ohayashi, my Art of Transition teacher, had told me that demons like Azazel were looking for a weak heart. So maybe I had a just that. Maybe there was something evil inside of me. Something that Azazel wanted to use.