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    Dreams Away
    Dreams Away
    Dreams Away
    Ebook104 pages1 hour

    Dreams Away

    By Matt Honigman

    ()

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    About this ebook

    When most people wake up, reality takes control and dreams retreat to the depths of the mind. For Liam Irving, waking up actually brings him one step closer to his dreams... and nightmares.

    Liam's life changes forever when his Uncle Brett gives him a stone on his twelfth birthday and instructs him to keep it under his pillow. Suddenly, Liam begins to wake up in the middle of the night—from the same dream. As the line between his dreams and reality blurs more with each passing day, Liam begins to question everything. Desperate for help, he turns to Uncle Brett, who finally reveals the shocking truth about the stone’s origin. Now, Liam is faced with the biggest decision of his life, and he must make it alone: Will he reject the stone or open his eyes to his dreams once more?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherMatt Honigman
    Release dateOct 18, 2015
    ISBN9781311399311
    Dreams Away
    Author

    Matt Honigman

    Matt Honigman grew up in suburban Wisconsin. He is currently an elementary school teacher, striving every day to help students discover their strengths within. If you would like to schedule an author visit, email Matt at mhonigman@gmail.com.

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      Book preview

      Dreams Away - Matt Honigman

      Dreams Away

      Matt Honigman

      Copyright © 2015 Matt Honigman

      For Emily.

      Never stop dreaming.

      For most sixth grade boys, the principal’s office was the last place you wanted to be. And for me, Liam Irving, it was no different. Our principal, Mr. Dayne, was at least 250 pounds, and the only human being I’d ever seen with muscles that actually bulged from inside the dark wool suits he always wore. Yet there I was, glued to a chair that was harder than stone, staring straight into the face of the scariest human I’d ever met. And to make matters worse, Mom was seated right beside me, with a look on her face that stung my heart deeper than anything Mr. Dayne’s strength could accomplish. The lights in the room seemed to be aimed directly at my face, like a spotlight on a crook from one of those old crime movies. The silence was deafening. I tried to breathe, but my mouth was trapped inside the rest of my frozen body.

      There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Only, why was I there in the first place?

      No! My scream seemed to come from another world. Then, darkness mercifully swept in, and I could breathe again.

      I opened my eyes to a disturbingly familiar scene. My clock read 2:00 AM, and I was lying slumped on the rug next to my bed--just like the night before, and the night before that.

      Praying that my screams hadn’t woken up Mom, I tiptoed down the hallway to the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face. As I dried off, for just the slightest moment the towel completely covered my eyes, and in the darkness I caught a brief glimpse of my dream again. That same office, the aghast looks from Mom and Mr. Dayne. And my right hand seemed to be wrapped in something white.

      I dropped the towel and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

      Why is this happening to me?

      The twelve-year-old boy staring back had no answer. I looked terrible. My brown eyes were surrounded by red from the lack of sleep. My wavy blonde hair was matted down on my head like a flattened cupcake wrapper. Wrinkle lines from my pillowcase traveled up and down my face in a completely unpredictable pattern.

      Maybe this is just a phase. I’ve had nightmares before.

      No, something was definitely different this time. The dreams felt so real.

      I returned to my room just as confused as before. My pillow was soaked with the sweat of nightmares. I flipped it over and was about to fall back into bed… when I saw it.

      The small brown stone that was a birthday gift from my uncle was lying just where I left it. But there was no mistaking it; the stone was bigger.

      My mouth opened and closed without a sound. I leaned over and stared at the thing, as if expecting an explanation.

      No. Stones don’t grow.

      There was nothing else to do but pick it up. Which turned out to be a big mistake.

      OW! My fingers burned, and I immediately dropped the stone back onto the bed. I stared suspiciously at it as I tried to shake off the pain.

      And that’s when it happened. A tiny white bubble appeared on the stone’s surface, and then another. I blinked, but when I opened my eyes, I only saw more of them. Within seconds, the stone was fizzing like a can of club soda.

      And then, before my brain even had a chance to decide what I was seeing, the fizz was gone. All that remained was a black spot the size of a pencil tip, right in the center of the stone.

      Did that just happen?

      I sat there, frozen, staring at the tiny black spot. It seemed to stare back at me. A searing pain in my lungs reminded me to exhale, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off the stone for fear that it would change once more.

      Finally, I gathered enough courage to pick it up again. This time, it felt shockingly cool in my sweaty hand. I rubbed my finger over the spot, but it was as smooth as the rest of the stone, like it had always been there.

      Thirty minutes later, after several trials with hot and cold water from the bathroom faucet, pouring salt, pepper, and sugar on it, and even holding it over a lit match, the stone hadn’t changed one bit. I started to wonder whether the fizzing was just a figment of my imagination, a reasonable explanation considering the amount of sleep I had the last three days. But the black spot was still there, proof that I hadn’t dreamed it all.

      I slipped the stone beneath my pillow again and tried to fall asleep, but my pounding heart and spinning mind had other plans. I needed to talk to Uncle Brett. He found the stone. He gave it to me. And he suggested that I sleep with it under my pillow.

      Uncle Brett had to know something.

      * * *

      My father died when I was two years old. To be honest, I don’t remember much about him. Sometimes when Mom’s not around, I go down to the basement and pull out old photo albums. As I turn through the pages and stare into his endless brown eyes, I can almost hear him talking to me again. People say that I look like him, that I have his smile. Well, that’s only true because I taught myself to smile that way a long time ago. It was the only way that I could keep part of him with me all the time.

      When my father got sick, Mom’s brother came to live with us in Chicago for six months. He’s actually my godfather. I realize now that Uncle Brett wasn’t taking a vacation; he was helping Mom take care of my sister Lizzie and me.

      Uncle Brett is by far the most interesting person in the family. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been a geologist for Rockhound Magazine. He’s been to the tops of the highest mountains and to the depths of Death Valley. These days, Uncle Brett doesn’t come to visit us very often; I think the last time I saw him was two years ago. So you can imagine my surprise when he showed up at my birthday party last Sunday, holding a small blue bag.

      Just taking some time off to follow my dreams, he explained with a mysterious smile. When Uncle Brett smiled, his whole face seemed to shine, from his sparkling blue eyes all the way down to his pronounced chin. This time, though, I noticed something different about his face: He looked older, much older than the last time I saw him.

      Most of my friends came to my party at Kickers Soccer Club. My grandparents were visiting from Florida, too. The only one who couldn’t make it was Lizzie, who was away at college. Honestly, it was better that she didn’t come anyway. Ever since she started college, whenever she visited us, she always looked like she was waiting for the first chance to leave.

      After a fierce indoor game of soccer that ended in a shootout, we moved to the party room where the cake and presents were waiting. I was just about to shove the first slice of birthday cake into my mouth when Uncle Brett crouched down next to me and placed the blue bag in my hand. Sorry I didn’t wrap it, he said with an odd smile.

      I imagined the exciting possibilities. Uncle Brett traveled everywhere! With bated breath, I reached in and pulled out my birthday present.

      It was hard not to frown when I first saw the stone. My uncle had brought me rocks and gems before, but they were all cool-looking. This one looked like he just found it on the side of the road. It was smooth, a dull brown, and about the size of my palm.

      This is my gift, after being gone for two years?

      Of course, you don’t know what it is,

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