Dark Wish by W.M. Dawson
CHAPTER ONE
KRISTOFF
As he leaned against the tall chair, Kristoff said, “Jace.” He turned the liquid through the mug despite the cooling green tea. “The dreams, the ones from years before. They’ve returned.”
“Well, shit,” replied Jason. Removing the coffee from the pine lacquered table, he sighed. Jason tilted his head at his friend, and he brushed back the long, blue-and-yellow hair. One of the few times he saw his friend look more than tired, ragged, and worn. He had dark brown hair that always looked like it needed a trim. It kept pushing it back, and this time it won, too. The whole ignored, and they went away. The thing worked so well for you the first time.”
“Seemed to,” he responded, ignoring Jason’s sarcastic tone even as Jason’s hazel eyes glowed with amusement. “My quirky nature doesn’t care if I want to put this minor insanity in a box.”
Jason waved his hand and said, “You are a genius,” because you have a Ph.D. in philosophy. “You’d think that you know better than golly. I can ignore it, and it will disappear.”
As Kristoff sipped the cooled tea, he replied, “Sarcasm isn’t helpful. I don’t know. Why now?”
“Why not?” Jason yawned and replied. “I’m full of sarcasm, sunshine, and waking up several hours earlier than usual to be aware of you. With the latest gig, I’m living the vamp life.”
He waved his hand over the whipped cream connection Jason drank and said, “You’re on your third mocha-frap-whatever.”
“To cope with this weirdness that is your life, I need sugar and caffeine,” Jason said. “So, getting back to your weirdness, what changed for the dream to return? Other than the fact that you were at home?”
Kristoff replied, “I doubt location has anything to do with it. I have been there numerous times without anything happening.”
“Stress.”
“Stress?”
“Yeah, your siblings are being assholes. You gotta be living it if you can see it.”
“I can deal with them.” Kristoff sipped and glanced over at Jason, trying to think of an alternative reason these dreams had returned. The family drama that spilled over enough for him to return from Portland to Seattle for the summer would be better than anything else.
“I’m sure you will,” Jason replied cheerfully. “If not, the world will come to a crashing end, the sun will explode, or some other terrible Eldritch horror will rip into the universe to eat all the racists… no wait, the last one isn’t so. Bad.”
As the server appeared, Kristoff laughed, stroking his hair back and glancing between the two men. “Don’t worry about us. He needs another pot of green tea and probably something healthy, like a bran muffin made from the most boring thing you have in the kitchen. Please let me have another giant caramel mocha Frappuccino and a chocolate muffin.”
“Of course,” she replied to Kristoff with a smile. Jason shook his head, knowing his best friend he’d known since birth wouldn’t notice.
Kristoff said, “Things I miss about Portland.”
“In Seattle lite, besides culture, better coffee, better music, and better food,” Jason listed the ideas on his fingertips.
He replied, “No, I love having these weird conversations with you in person instead of over the phone.”
“Then you ought to have taught in a civilized part of the world.”
“Portland isn’t out in the middle of nowhere. You come out there several times a year.”
“I know, crazy me. It encourages you to stay there.”
“That’s not why, and you know that.”
Jason crossed his arms and leaned away from the table with an exaggerated sigh. “Fuck.”
“That’s mature of you.”
“I am not one of your students, Professor.”
“Then don’t act like one, Jace.”
As Jason leaned back to the table, knowing he had lost the discussion regarding Portland, he said, “Let’s get back to one of the damn topics we have floating around. Dreams are back with the mystery girl.”
“Oh no, it’s worse.”
“How?”
“She is no longer a child. She is an adult now.”
“So, she was when you were a kid. When you grew up, did she too?” Jason asked. Kristoff gave a curt nod. “Damn, is she hot?”
“Really? That’s what you think of first?”
“Duh, of course.”
“Jace,” he exhaled. The server returned with their drinks and muffins as he stopped. As she poured Kristoff’s tea, she ensured they had what they needed. Jason met Kristoff’s dark blue eyes with a glance that spoke the language of friends who wondered, ‘what now?’ Jason convinced Kristoff to move along with a smile and joke that shifted to the following table. “Don’t start.”
“I don’t get hit on randomly,” Jason laughed. “I’d like some hot chicks to hit on me for being tall, dark, and handsome. Oh, the deep, hard life of being attractive.”
“It’s not that. She was being nice,” Kristoff said.
“Yes, that is always the case. It’s all so nice,” Jason replied without adding too much dripping sarcasm. “Let’s get back to the hot woman in the dream.”
“I never said she was hot.”
“In my part of the story, she is hot.”
“Why do I not find it surprising?” Kristoff spoke. “She is an adult, like me. It’s like we’re always the same age.”
“Okay, she’s an adult now. Is she the same person besides being an adult, the same hair and eye color or different?” Jason inquired.
As Kristoff sipped his tea, he gave himself a moment to respond. Kristoff didn’t want to answer too quickly or dive too far into the subject, but he needed someone to bounce ideas off. Jason may be a ball of manic energy, but he is an old friend who knows about his unusual dreams. As a child, his parents went to great lengths to get rid of his imaginary friend. As an adult, the fact that they had returned would be a great relief to him.
“It was her.” After a long silence, Kristoff replied, “She knew it was me, too.”
It’s getting better, I see. What did she say? He put his drink down as if someone else might listen in.
“She had a couple of things to say.” Kristoff glanced at the table. “She was surprised to see me, too. That’s absurd. How could my imaginary friend be surprised?”
“Well, what if it’s like type psychic ability?” Jason asked.
“I am shocked that you still believe she is real.”
“As a kid, you knew things from other parts of the world. “It isn’t impossible to believe she could be real, and you have some like. I am not sure what the connection is.”
“It’s not real. She’s a figment of my imagination. Stress or repressed issues have come up again. I,” Kristoff paused. He could not finish his thought. “I don’t know what it means.”
“I vote for stress. All hell is breaking loose between your idiot brothers trying to rip apart the family business and your sister coming to town next week.”
“I agree that this isn’t what I need.”
“I could tell you what you should do, but you don’t want me to tell you.”
“I don’t need another therapist. My overactive imagination still causes the problem. I won’t need another drug regimen or a list of useless therapy sessions that made me feel like a crazy kid. I will work through it like last time.” Kristoff said with a sad smile.
“You’re not crazy. You never were. My baggage is crazy, not you. “We make quite a pair,” Jason replied. “But when you want to tell me what you dreamed of, I’m listening since you completely skip that. I’m listening, bro.”
“I know it. It was awkward this time.”
“Sex dream?” Jason inquired. Kristoff didn’t return his intense gaze. “I totally need details.”
“Well…”