Dreamwalkers Read Online Free Page A

him, which now seems supremely ridiculous anywhere in the
vicinity of Sebastian Vincent over there, a walking sex god that
makes me feel like I’m nine years old.
    I thought I could convince Daniel with the
dreamwalking, but that took forever to work. From what I read
online, it’s supposed to be like hypnosis. Subliminal suggestions
that influence his decisions when he wakes up. Not Daniel. After he
woke up, he’d go and do the exact opposite, like holing up with
that old man Bobby for weeks after I told him to go home.
    Before I start to feeling too much like a
failure at dreamwalking, I remind myself that I’ve only been
practicing the dreamwalking for a year or so.
    Mom doesn’t know anything about dreamwalking.
Last year, when I found myself walking around in her dreams for the
first time, I asked her about it. She just thought it was weird
that we both had the same dream.
    I had to Google it and found some Native
American legend type stuff that didn’t sound anything like what I
was doing. I wasn’t just lucid dreaming. I was in my mother’s
dream. Talking to her.
    I was beginning to think it was a weird
coincidence, like my mom said, until it happened again. This time,
it was Aunt Jenny’s dream. It was the night of Daniel’s birthday
and I’d been thinking about her. Every year she hiked up into those
mountains and turned wolf and howled. Those lonely howls spoke of
all her grief and loneliness and despair at having lost her family
and almost everyone she loved. Her son and her husband, both gone
in a night, an irreparable rift between her and her sister, my
mother. Her son had killed her sister’s husband too. Their grief
was not equal.
    And I found myself in that clearing with her.
Human and in the white gown I’d worn on the first night I’d
changed. She paced as a wolf and howled mournfully and I took her
head in my lap and comforted her.
    The next day, when she returned from the
mountain, she seemed different. Less broken, somehow.
    After that, I started experimenting. It was
difficult to figure out how to make the lucid dreams happen, and it
wasn’t until I started dreaming about this boy at school that I
figured it out: I dreamt about who I was meditating all my thoughts
on.
    This boy, Alexander Lo, he moved into town
last year, which meant he didn’t know the history of how the other
kids excluded Daniel and me. He didn’t really stand out much–there
were a lot of Native American kids at our school, and his brown
skin and shiny black hair helped him fit in. He had the build of a
gymnast, however, and I’d watch him during gym class, the way he
moved even playing regular sports, so graceful. Before I could
invite him to sit with me during lunch at school the jocks snapped
him up. They could tell he was one of them. Soon he was on the
track team, the star high jumper, which was as close to gymnastics
as Wolf Point, Montana came.
    At lunch, sitting with my “friends”–a girl
who barely spoke named Cecilia (called “Sissy” by almost everyone)
and her polar opposite, a hard-faced bully named Melanie–I watched
Alexander Lo and imagined that one day he would see in me what I
saw in him.
    And then I started dreamwalking with him.
    In the first dream we were at school and he
was on a balance beam in the gym doing a routine. He was dressed as
if for a competition, but the only people in the audience were his
parents and all the jocks. I probably don’t need to say that our
school gym did not have a balance beam and did not host gymnastics
competitions… it was surreal, to say the least.
    I found myself standing by the bleachers
where the audience was sitting, watching. Alex was clearly nervous,
sweating and shaking. I wasn’t surprised when he attempted a
backflip and missed the landing, slamming into the beam and falling
to the floor. The jocks in the audience roared with laughter, and
Alex’s parents buried their faces in their hands, so ashamed of
their son.
    Without thinking I ran to