The Blue Door and the Dream Realm

For the girls who taught me to shut the door.

For the girls who taught me to open it.

And most especially to Peggy, for leading me through it.

If there were dreams to sell,

Merry and sad to tell,

And the crier rung his bell,

What would you buy?

-  T. L. Beddoes; Dream-Pedlary -

Table of Contents

Chapter 1:  6

Chapter 2:  40

Chapter 3:  69

Chapter 4:  104

Chapter 5:  125

Chapter 6:  159

Chapter 7:  175

Epilogue:  189

Note that all chapters are bookmarked.

Copyright 2015 Alan VanMeter. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1508554080

ISBN-13: 978-1508554080

Many thanks to A.J. Darling for her tireless patience in the teaching of  real witchcraft to me, and the good that may be accomplished with it.

Chapter One:

Sammy often existed in an imagined realm. This was mainly because he was a serious introvert, and also that reality was usually unbearable to his young soul. So he invented other worlds where he could thrive and be accepted. 

His first imagined realm included an imagined father, an infinitely kind and wise man who was there to teach him of life, because Sammy knew only that his real father had left them when he was a baby. His mother was the only family he ever had, as her parents had both passed away before he could know them, and his mother had no siblings. She adored him though, as he did her. They were so very close. He was a very imaginative child, though the Doctors had diagnosed him early on as having Autism. His mother didn’t put much stock in that, as she was totally connected to him, and saw his bright potential clearly. Sammy just seemed to have a hard time relating with the other children in school, and in the neighborhood. It wasn’t from his lack of trying, rather it was just that he stood out from the other children with his bright intellect and open heart. They saw this as weakness, and so being the wild pack animals that children often are; they were cruel to him.

Their being very impoverished didn’t help matters either. Sammy usually wore the same increasingly tattered clothes every day. Any new clothes he did get were donated by a thrift shop. On top of all of that he was a minority in their town of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Sammy was Caucasian, and most the other kids were Hispanic, meaning he was a clear target. When it got too bad Sammy would invent a better place in his mind to go, and he could escape there when needed.

When he was young the fantasy world would usually be one where he was the hero that everyone else looked up to. His fantasies weren’t just fun, they were what brought him a touch of sanity in his insane world, if that makes any sense at all. Without them he would have degraded into raw primitive response to his torturers brutality. Soon his fantasy world had no one else in it at all, except his mom.

Then one day when he was in third grade, and all of eight years old, he came home with a broken nose, black eyes, and many splits on his lips. He couldn’t stop crying at the horror he’d been subjected to, and his mother knew she had to do something drastic. The normal channels of the school authorities, and even the police were no help at all, so his mother took him to a nearby martial arts studio, the closest one, as there was a school on nearly every corner in town.

They both watched the class in progress and were more than just a little impressed by the skills demonstrated by the students.

Momma, they are very dangerous with this Kung Fu! Sammy exclaimed.

Yes baby, they are. That is why I want you to learn this... to be able to protect yourself. She responded.

Sammy grinned widely, Ok.

After the class finished the instructor, a fairly young seeming Chinese man came to them and greeted the pair with a formal bow, and a warm smile.

I am Sifu Kwan, welcome to my Kwoon. Are you interested in the martial arts? He said in perfect American English.

Sammy’s mother, Ingrid, smiled back and nodded. Yes Mr. Kwan, I would like my son Samuel to learn how to protect himself.

And you are? He prodded.

Oh I’m so sorry... I’m Ingrid Jackson, and this is Sammy. She smiled at her son.

He surely noticed the damage to Sammy’s face, but didn’t mention it. Well Ms. Jackson, you certainly came to the right place for that. Let me tell you some of my school and my teachings. I offer beginning students a combination of material from Buddhist origins as well as Wu Tang beginnings. The external arts are the quickest, easiest to learn, and will give results of self-defense proficiency quickly. Then I teach my true art to any students who persist after the introductory material. My teacher who lives in Taiwan has fully blessed me to teach this ancient and deadly system here in the US. It is called the Xuan Wu, which translates to the ‘Dark Warrior.’ This is the preeminent system which spawned the arts of Tai Chi Chuan, Ba Gua Zhang, and Xing Yi Chuan. These are the seemingly mystical arts of Chinese treasure, but which are not mystical at all actually, just very in depth into a person’s body, mind, and soul. Any student who perseveres to learn this art will find that others may no longer harm them at all. He smiled.

Ingrid told Sammy to go outside and wait for her, while she talked with Mr. Kwan. He did so without question.

Mr. Kwan, I have to be brutally honest with you sir. Ingrid started, I am very poor, and I do not have the money you require to teach my son to protect himself. However, I will be more than happy to trade you some things, perhaps you might enjoy, for this instruction. She straightened her back causing her chest to swell, and strain against her thin cotton blouse. Anything at all for Sammy’s benefit sir. She looked at him with utter willingness, and Mr. Kwan blushed.

That is a very kind, and desirable offer Ms. Jackson, but it is not necessary. I will teach Sammy under the condition he shows up one hour early to every class, to work cleaning the Kwoon. He will clean bathrooms, water plants, vacuum floors, and dust. If this is acceptable to you Ms. Jackson. He still smiled warmly.

Mr. Kwan, oh my... thank you. I still offer anything you desire sir, anything at all. Ingrid blushed too.

Thank you Ingrid, perhaps someday, but first let me prove my worth to you, by teaching Sammy to defend himself properly. The way he looked at her, she knew... yes, he did desire her. She too felt this longing.

So Sammy began taking Kung Fu lessons twice a week at first for the beginner’s classes. His mother had told him to work hard for Mr. Kwan, and to pay close attention to his teachings, because he was being given a real opportunity. The first thing Mr. Kwan taught him was an exercise to strengthen his legs, it was called ‘the horse stance,’ and Sammy was shown to squat with his legs just a bit wider than his shoulders, into a deep low position with the knees bent at a right angle, and still keeping the back straight. Fort the first three weeks this is all he did in class, and was told to practice it at home as much as he could.

Sammy, you need to remember to keep hidden the fact that you are learning martial arts from others. If your peers find out, they will test your skill with real combat. Mr. Kwan told him.

During the fourth week he was able to hold the horse stance for the entire hour long class, and fairly deeply as well. That was when Mr. Kwan told him he was ready to start with the short forms he called Tan Tui. Sammy was eager, and found he really liked and respected his teacher, as he was greatly skilled in the art. When a new student began classes one day Sammy noticed that they were not made to do the Horse Stance training as he had been, and though he didn’t say anything about it, Mr. Kwan seemed to sense his curiosity.

Sammy, I am teaching you in a much more traditional manner. A paying student would leave if I trained them as I will train you, but you will become greatly skilled much sooner than they might. He smiled.

He would practice what his teacher taught him at home with fierce determination, and much sweat. By the time he’d been training for three months, his mother really noticed that he’d formed some serious muscles for a little boy.

We do a lot of exercises to make us strong Momma, it’s working huh? He offered.

She nodded with a smile. Often she would go to watch Sammy’s classes, and to see the handsome Mr. Kwan. Ingrid was very impressed by the material, and by the encouraging teaching manner that Mr. Kwan had. Once, an advanced class was still going on when they arrived, and then both mother and son witnessed some of the true lethality of the upper students as they sparred. Ingrid was kind of shocked when they were landing some pretty hefty seeming blows on each other that looked very painful. After class Mr. Kwan came over to them, and explained that the students were not truly harming each other, as he does not allow that, but that they were conditioned to easily withstand those level of blows.

Ingrid might have had some apprehensions about her son fighting like that, but Sammy did not. No, he relished the idea of semi play fighting, but with Kung Fu skill. Most of the short forms he was learning were performed imagining as if you were fighting opponents, or shadow boxing as it were. The first couple of these sets he practiced rabidly, until he owned the sets. They now belonged to him. The sets got progressively harder too, along with many different exercise routines that were taught as well.

His last day of regular public school for the third grade, Sammy got beat up again, by the same group or gang of boys as the last time. When Mr. Kwan saw the damage done to Sammy’s face, he remembered the first time he’d seen Sammy, he’d worn the marks of a beating then as well. So his teacher began to teach him how to spar, personally after class. He also began teaching Sammy the internal arts, even though he was just barely nine at the time. He explained to the young boy the way of relaxed fighting.

We stay relaxed at all times, but just because you are relaxed, doesn’t mean we are slouching, or hunched. We always keep a perfect posture, rolling the hips under yourself, back straight, neck extended upwards, knees bent, and feet firmly gripping the ground. Kwan explained. Your palms are open, and ready to deflect, or grasp, and elbows are nicely bent downwards.

But what do I do when there are so many of them Sifu? Sammy implored.

Kwan nodded. I want you to come to the advanced classes for a while Sammy, then I can show you how to work against multiple opponents.

True to his word Mr. Kwan showed him exactly how to work multiple opponents by keeping the lead attacker in between yourself and the others, thus only having to deal with one at a time. He had Sammy try it with his attackers not throwing any punches or kicks, just working the positioning, and maneuvering. The next advanced class, his teacher gave him a mouth piece from his supply he sold at the school, and let him borrow headgear and a chest protector along with some sparing gloves, and he let Sammy spar one of the advanced students. Her name was Gina, and she was sixteen. Though she was gentle on him, she still pretty much whooped his ass. After each round Mr. Kwan would give Sammy tips on how to avoid her attacks, then he would set them against each other again. It didn’t take him long to learn how to read his opponents moves and be able to counter them, or avoid them altogether. He still kept going to the intermediate level classes too, so he could learn all the material, and learn it he did, with passion. Sammy loved Kung Fu, and his school, and teacher.

His mother fully encouraged his interest, as she had never seen him so taken with anything before. That summer Sammy did nothing but train hard. He exercised like a mad man, being driven by his new fantasy realm in his mind that he was turning into a reality. Near the end of the vacation Mr. Kwan started teaching him to push hands spar while blindfolded. Now he had to learn to sense and feel an opponent’s intentions by touch alone. The change in his free sparing ability was drastic, and seemingly almost overnight.

One of the students that had been in his intermediate class, had graduated to the advanced class, and the first several times the boy had spared with Sammy in the advanced class, the older boy had dominated the younger nine year old fairly well, but one day that changed, and Sammy easily thrashed the boy four years his senior at will. The other boy had even asked the Sifu about Sammy’s sudden skill increase. It was explained that his ability had grown from his internal training. The older boy had been invited to partake of the basic internal training since becoming an intermediate student, but he hadn’t wanted to learn the soft dance like art, preferring to stick to the flashy hard stuff, until he realized that it was for real. He’d witnessed the difference, with palm strikes to his forehead.

Fourth grade started much like third grade had, but with one major difference. Sammy wasn’t afraid any longer. Sure enough the gang of hoodlums that had plagued him before found him on his way to school one morning.

The leader, a boy named Hector, called to him. Sammy! You Hoto! If you weren’t such a Hoto we wouldn’t have to kick your ass Holmes.

Sammy turned and dropped his book bag, and assumed a fighting stance.

Oh! Ho ho! What do we have here? Now you’re gonna get it Holmes. Hector moved in for the attack.

It was too easy for Sammy, he deflected Hector’s leading punches, and smashed his nose flat into his face with a vicious palm strike, just like Sifu had taught him, with whipping concussive force. Just as Hector’s knees began to buckle, Sammy pushed him into another boy right behind him, and he moved to another fellow putting him in between himself, and the other three undamaged boys. The fellow right in front of him started to throw a punch, but Sammy neutralized the movement by checking his shoulder lightly. Then Sammy struck the boy in the eye with a blade like palm, finger tips first, and at the same moment used his heel to simply push the boy’s knee