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  Your power is strong, but there are a few dreams stronger than you.

  Please don’t expect you can change the course of the world. That said, I, Martha Stubin, have been in the dreams of many successful individuals. They arrived at success only after their dreams changed.

  Can I take credit for these things? Of course not. But I was a factor in the future of many a businessperson. While I will not reveal names, as the individuals are still alive at the time I write this, I might ask you to think about the computer industry, and that will give you a clue.

  You have the ability to influence the unconscious mind, my dear dream catcher.

  Marriages have been saved.

  Relationships rekindled.

  Sports events won.

  Lives lived in confidence rather than fear.

  Because our power is motivating, and gives momentum and ownership of changes to those who dream of failure.

  This is a most redeeming job when things go right.

  And you can change a community.

  You are a rarely gifted individual.

  You can use your power to help create or restore peace in a troubled community—whether it’s a school, a church, a place of business, or a government entity. You have more power to solve crime than anyone with a badge.

  Do not forget this.

  As you hone your skill—your gift—you will be able to assist the law in ways the keepers of them cannot imagine. And in ways that are impossible, in their minds. You have tremendous power to do good.

  Use it if you dare.

  You will never be without a job. Think big. The country’s many law enforcement agencies will get wind of your existence. Travel the country—maybe even the world. Seek out others with various gifts, who work underground, like you.

  Let me take it a step deeper. Into your own heart.

  With practice, you will master your own dreams.

  Some of you might not dream.

  That will come with time.

  You can dream to work out the problems you face, and you will dream to find the refreshing love you long for in an isolated world.

  And the loved ones you lose along the path of life will live forever, if you use your power. You’ll never say good-bye for long. Just until you sleep again. You can bring them back to you.

  This has been the most redemptive factor for me. It’s what has kept me alive beyond my years. I will die happy, even after a life of distress.

  Do not overlook the positives of this factor, once you view the rest.

  And now, when you turn the page, you will find the next one blank.

  Following it are the things I wish I didn’t have to tell you. Use your judgment right now to decide if you wish to go on.

  4:19 p.m.

  Janie buries her head in her hands, and goes on.

  Dread

  My eyes water as I write this section.

  There are things about yourself you may not want to hear or know.

  Will they help you?

  The answer is yes.

  Will they hurt you?

  Absolutely, yes.

  Rights and Obligations

  First of all, let us revisit how you change people’s dreams.

  Because you have the power does not always mean you have the right or the obligation.

  And because you have the power of manipulation, some of you will use that to hurt people.

  I can’t stop you from doing that.

  I can only implore you to resist the temptation to hurt others in this fashion.

  It’s been done.

  And it’s been ugly.

  People die.

  Here are some facts you should know:

  • THERE IS NO “CURE,” SHOULD YOU SEE THIS AS A

  DISEASE. UNTIL THE REASON FOR THE DREAM

  CATCHER’S GIFT IS DISCOVERED, THERE WILL BE NO

  CURE.

  • I’VE SPENT FIFTY YEARS TRYING TO CHANGE IT. AND

  ALL I CAN DO IS CONTROL IT—SOMETIMES.

  Driving

  You might already be aware of the hazards of driving. Perhaps you’ve had a rare incident. And you’re still alive. But because of the stray possibilities—even with the windows closed, I must add—you are a time bomb.

  It’s happened before.

  You’ve seen it in the papers, haven’t you?

  Somebody blacks out on the highway. Crosses the line. Kills a family of three in the oncoming lane.

  Dream catchers. Catching, by accident, the dreams of the sleeper in the car next door. Right through the glass windows of both cars. It happens.

  It has happened.

  And I’ve never forgiven myself.

  Don’t drive.

  You risk not only your life, but the lives of innocent others.

  You can ignore me.

  I’m asking you not to.

  If you wish to continue, please turn the page.

  4:53 p.m.

  Janie—shaking, crying, remembering the school children—continues.

  Side Effects

  This is the hardest section. If you make it through this, you are done.

  And maybe you won’t think it’s as bad as I made it out to be. I hope for that.

  There are several side effects of being a dream catcher. You’ve experienced the caloric drain by now. It gets worse as you age.

  The stronger you are, the more prepared you are, the better you’ll fare.

  Have nourishment with you at all times. Dreams are where you least expect them.

  The more dreams you enter, the more you can help people. This is true; it’s the law of averages.

  But for a dream catcher, the more dreams you enter, the worse the side effects.

  The faster you decline.

  You must work at controlling which dreams you enter.

  Practice pulling out of them, as I explained in the many files of cases

  I’ve participated in.

  Study them.

  Practice the moves, the thought processes, the relaxation exercises.

  However, you must realize by now that it’s a catch-22. Because the more practice you get, the harder it is on your body.

  You must choose your dreams carefully, if you choose to use your gift to help others.

  Or there is the alternative.

  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 e
xperiences 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.

  Takes off her glasses.

  Thinks hard and knows the answer already. The dreams, the headaches, Miss Stubin’s gnarled hands and blind eyes. Janie’s own failing eyesight. Janie knew.

  Knew it for a while now.

  She just didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t want to believe it.

  Maybe Cabel knows already, she thinks. His stupid eye charts. Maybe that’s really why he needs a break. He knows she’s falling apart. And he can’t handle one more problem with Janie.

  Janie is so stunned she cannot cry anymore.

  She grabs her car keys and rushes to the door before she remembers.

  Miss Stubin killed three people in a car crash because of a dream.

  Janie looks at Ethel through the window, and then slowly she falls down to the floor, sobbing as her world comes to an end.

  She doesn’t get up.

  No.

  Not that night.

  March 25, 2006, 8:37 a.m.

  Janie is still on the floor in the living room, near the front door. Her mother steps over her once, twice, unalarmed, disappearing again into the dark recesses of her bedroom. She’s seen Janie asleep on the floor before.

  Janie doesn’t move when there is a knock on the door. A second knock, more urgent, does nothing to her.

  And then words.

  “Don’t make me break open the door, Hannagan.”

  Janie lifts her head. Squints at the door handle. “It’s not locked,” she says dully, although she tries to be respectful.

  And Captain is there, in Janie’s living room, and somehow, in the small house, she looks so much bigger to Janie.

  “What’s going on, Janie?” Captain asks, alarm growing on her face as she sees Janie on the floor.

  Janie shakes her head and says in a thin, bewildered voice, “I think I’m dying, sir.”

  Janie sits up. She can feel the carpet pattern indented deep in her cheek.

  It feels like Cabel’s nubbly burns. “I was going to go see you yesterday,” she says, looking at the keys on the floor next to her. “I was going out the door, and then it all hit me. The driving. And the everything. And I just…” She shakes her head. “I’m going blind, sir.

  Just like Miss Stubin.”

  Captain stands, quiet. Waits patiently for Janie to explain. Holds her hand out to Janie. Pulls her up, and embraces her. “Talk to me,”

  Captain says gently.

  And Janie, who ran out of tears hours ago, makes new ones and cries on Captain’s shoulder, telling her everything about the contents of the green notebook. Letting Captain read it herself. Captain squeezes Janie tightly when the sobs come again.

  After a while Janie is quiet. She looks around for something to use to wipe Captain’s coat, and there is nothing. There is always nothing at

  Janie’s house.

  “Did you call into school for your absence yet?”

  “Shit.”

  “No problem. I’ll do it now. Does your mother go by Mrs. Hannagan?

  I don’t want the office staff to know that I know you.”

  Janie shakes her head. “No, not ‘Mrs.,’” she says. “Just go with

  Dorothea Hannagan.” When Captain hangs up the phone, Janie says, “How did you know to come?”

  She scowls. “Cabel called me. Said you didn’t show up at school, wondered if I’d heard from you. I guess he tried calling your cell phone.”

  So I have to disappear in order to get him to call me. Janie doesn’t say anything. She wants, with all her heart, to ask Captain why Cabel won’t speak to her. But Janie knows better than to do that. So all she says is, “That was thoughtful.”

  And then she thinks for a moment. “Did you suspect this? Did Miss

  Stubin tell you any of this?”

  “I knew something was bothering you after you called me a few weeks ago, but I didn’t know what. Miss Stubin was a very private person, Janie. She didn’t speak much about herself, and I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my place.”

  “Do you think Cabel knows?”

  “Have you thought about asking him?”

  Janie glances up to read her face. Bites her quivering lip to still it.

  “We’re not exactly on speaking terms right now.”

  Captain sighs. “I gathered that.” Carefully she says, “Cabel has his own demons, and if he doesn’t get on with killing them soon, I’m going to kick his ass. He’s having trouble dealing with some things right now.”

  Janie shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Captain is silent. “Maybe you should ask him. Tell him what you’re going through too.”

  “Why? So that when I tell him I’m going to be a blind cripple, he’ll never want to come near me again?”

  Captain smiles ruefully. “I can’t predict the future, Janie. But I doubt a few physical ailments would turn him off, if you know what I mean.

  But nobody says you have to tell him, either.” She pauses. “You look like you could use some breakfast. Let’s go for a ride, Janie,” she says.

  Janie looks down at herself, rumpled in her clothes from yesterday.

  “Sure, why not,” she says. She takes a few minutes to brush through her hair, and she looks in the mirror. Looks at her eyes.

  Captain takes Janie to Ann Arbor. They stop for breakfast at Angelo’s, where Captain apparently knows everybody in the place, including

  Victor, the short-order cook. Victor himself delivers a feast to their table. Janie, not having eaten since lunch the day before, wolfs down the meal gratefully.

  After breakfast, Captain drives around the campus of the University of

  Michigan. “Some of the finest research and medical facilities are here, Janie. Maybe there’s something…” Captain shrugs. “Keep in mind, Martha Stubin lost her eyesight fifty years ago. A lot has changed in the medical world since then. Don’t doom yourself before you know what doctors can do now. And not just your eyes—your hands too.

  And, perhaps, your dreams. See that building?” Captain p
oints. “That’s the sleep study. Perhaps something can be arranged to accommodate you properly sometime. I have a couple friends on campus I trust. They knew about Martha. They’ll help us.”

  Janie looks around at everything. Feels a tiny surge of hope. She and

  Cabel had planned to come out here a few times over the upcoming summer, once they could be seen together. Now Janie doesn’t know what to think. Maybe Cabel would be back.

  And maybe he would be scared away again.

  Janie doesn’t know how many more breakups and fixes she can handle in their relationship. “Why does everything have to be so hard?” she asks out loud. And then she blushes. “Rhetorical question. Sorry, Captain.”

  Captain smiles. “What made you read it, finally?”

  Janie swallows hard. “Now that Cabel won’t come near me, I figured I didn’t have much else to lose. Joke’s on me, huh.”

  Captain purses her lips as she drives and mutters something under her breath. “Okay,” she says, “and how do you feel about being a dream catcher now?”

  Janie thinks. “I guess I don’t know any different.”

  Captain gets a curious look on her face. “How does your mother play into this picture?”

  “She doesn’t.”

  “And your father…?”

  “Doesn’t exist, as far as I know.”

  “I see.” Captain pauses. “Are you sorry you read it?”

  Janie is quiet for a moment. “No, sir.”

  They sit in silence, and then Captain points out a few more buildings on the U of M campus. “Do you want to quit your job with me, Janie?

  Isolate yourself?”

  Janie looks at Captain. “Do you want me to quit?”

  “Of course not. You’re brilliant at it.”

  “I’d like to stay on if you have more assignments for me, sir.”

  Captain smiles, and then she turns serious again. “Do you think you can still work with Cabel, even if you don’t resume your romantic relationship with him?”

  Janie sighs. “If he can handle it without being an ass, I can.” And then her voice catches. “I just…” She shakes her head and collects her wits, not wanting to cry.

  Captain glares through the windshield. Bites her lip. Shakes her head.