Isolation.
If you isolate yourself, you might live a normal life…. As normal as isolation allows, of course.
And now.
You can still stop reading here.
Your last chance.
5:39 p.m.
Janie looks away. Reads that part over again. Her head is pounding.
And she continues to the bitter end.
Quality of Life
I knew, personally, three dream catchers in my life, besides myself. I am the last one alive. At the time of this writing, I know of no others.
But I am convinced you are out there.
I’ll tell you first that the handwriting in this journal is not from my hand. My assistant writes to you in this book, because my hands are gnarled beyond use.
I lost the function of my hands and fingers at age thirty-four.
My three dream-catcher friends were thirty-five, thirty-one, and thirtythree, respectively, when they could no longer hold a pen.
That is what these dreams are doing to you.
6:00 p.m.
Tears stream down Janie’s face. She holds her sodden sleeve to her mouth. And continues.
And finally.
What I see as the worst.
I was eleven at the time of my first dream catch.
Or at least, that’s as far back as I can recall.
The dreams came few and far between at first, as I expect they did for you, unless you shared a room with someone.
By high school the number of dreams grew.
College. In class, the library, walking across campus on a spring day… not to mention having a roommate. In college dreams are everywhere.
Some of the worst experiences you’ll ever see.
And then, one day, you won’t.
You won’t see.
Because you’ll be completely, irreversibly, heartlessly blind.
My dream catcher acquaintances: Twenty-three. Twenty-six. Twentyone.
I was twenty-two.
The more dreams you enter, the sooner you’ll be blind.
You suspected already, didn’t you.
Perhaps you’ve already lost some of your vision. I’m so sorry, dear friend.
Choose your profession wisely.
All the hope I can add is this:
Once you are blind, each dream journey you take will bring you back into the light, and you will see things in the dreams as if you are seeing them in life.
These dreams of others are your windows. They are all the light you’ll see. You will be encased in darkness except for the dreams.
And since that is the case, I ask you, who would not live for one more dream? One more chance to see your loved one as he ages, one more chance to see yourself if he dreams of you.
You don’t have a choice.
You are stuck with this gift, this curse.
Now you know what lies ahead.
I leave you with a note of hope, and it is this: I don’t regret my decisions to help others through catching dreams.
Not a single instance would I take back.
Now is a good time to sit and think. To mourn. And then to get back up.
Find your confidant. Since you are reading this, you have one. Tell him or her what to expect.
You can get to work. Or you can hide forever and delay the effects. It’s your decision.
No regrets, Martha Stubin, Dream Catcher
Janie stares at the book. Turns that page, knowing there’s nothing more. Knowing it’s not a joke.
She looks at her hands. Flexes her fingers. Sees them, their wrinkly knuckles and short fingernails. The way they bend and straighten. And then she looks around the room.