Poet Anderson ...Of Nightmares Read Online Free

where the train was heading.
    Alan looked over his brother’s pajamas from the seat across from him. “It’s okay, man,” Alan said. “Less than twenty percent of the population is even aware when they’re dreaming. And of that percentage, only one in five can actually impact their dreams.” Alan sounded like the professor, grating deeply on Jonas’s nerves. Alan grinned and climbed up on the train seat, tagging the high corner on the train wall—something he would never do in his waking life. “So I’m officially the coolest fucking dude you know,” Alan added.
    Jonas snorted and stared down at soft cotton pajamas. He wanted to be like Alan. He wanted control, too. Jonas looked at his clothes and thought jeans . Nothing happened. Alan was spray painting a phrase from George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four , but Jonas clenched his jaw, trying to force his emotions. He tried anger, hope, jealousy—nothing seemed to work. He was getting frustrated, but then he closed his eyes and calmed himself.
    I’m not wearing my pajamas , he thought confidently. When I open my eyes, they’ll be jeans . He gave himself over to the thought, waiting until he was convinced it was true. He opened his eyes—pajamas. His heart sank, but then wisps of blue smoke began to wrap around his legs, covering him in denim until he was wearing jeans. Jonas jumped up from the seat and yelled to Alan. By the time his brother turned around, the smoke had dissipated and Jonas was wearing a completely different outfit.
    Alan looked him over, pride in his blue eyes, but he shrugged indifferently. “So your talent is fashion,” he said with a smile. “We all have our gifts, Jonas.”
    â€œFuck you,” Jonas said back, staring down at his clothes. It was a start. I’ll get better , Jonas thought, and he sat down contently, swaying with the movement of the train.
    Alan came over and took the seat next to Jonas, looking sideways at him. “This could help us, you know,” Alan said. “If you get stronger, I bet it will work.”
    Alan was convinced there was another part of the Dream World—an entire city of shared consciousness that only Lucid Dreamers could get to, like some kind of members-only club. It was a reality documented in one of the sleep studies he’d read. He believed that with practice, he and Jonas could get there. And so Alan would get them on this subway train, imagining they were going deeper into their dream, heading toward the other world. But they never got that far; they never got beyond the train. They’d always wake up before the last stop.
    The train rattled along a curve, startling Poet from his memories. He glanced around, realizing that he was on that same car right now, the very same one he and Alan would ride on. He looked up to the far corner and saw the phrase Alan wrote all that time ago: “Big Brother is watching you.” And now Poet knew why he was there, too; he was trying to go deeper into the Dream World. He was trying to find the other part of the dreamscape in hopes of finding Alan.
    â€œThis is the dream,” Poet repeated. In front of him, Sketch nodded, and Poet felt his sense of purpose renewed. “Listen, Sketch,” he said. “I have to find my brother. He’s—”
    There was a deafening bang on the roof of the car, and the entire train shook. The lights flickered. When they snapped back on, Poet saw the color had drained from Sketch’s face. Gunner darted back inside, his mouth hanging open. All three guys lifted their eyes to the ceiling of the train car and waited. No one dared speak.
    There was a thump and the high-pitched screech of nails on metal. Gunner winced, covering his ears, but Poet kept very still. What the hell was on the roof? He tried to remember if this had happened before, but his thoughts were too jumbled. Memories of his dreams often disappeared the