As dark as the night was, he could clearly see all the houses down the street. As if part of a play, people started getting out of the houses at the same time. They were all wearing white robes that glowed in the dark like fireflies. Their shoes were wrapped in plastic bags (like the ones nurses use in hospitals). Then suddenly, abruptly, they all looked at him, and he felt their eyes burning his skin. He started running, but it was as if he was not advancing at all. And he felt the footsteps behind him closer, and closer and closer. And they were upon him, and he saw the knife as it pierced through his chest, and blood spurted from it. Then he felt himself screaming, but no sound came out...

His dreams had no sound, like an old silent movie. And he was awake.

For Gustavo Rivera going to sleep was like watching TV. Every time he woke up he could remember every single dream he had that night, and he did not even have a good memory. He was used to it to some degree, but still did not understand how it was that the dreamworld was an open book to him. His parents had given him some sort of explanation of why it was like that.

"When your mother and I were young, we liked to experiment with different sensations and things like that when we had sex" his father had told him not so long ago.

"Dad, I think that is a little more information than what people want to know about their parents"

"Well, I'm just trying to help you explain your dream situation, as you call it"

"Okay, as long as it's not too descriptive"

"Well, your mother wanted to know if she could feel sexual pleasure while being asleep. So one night I waited until she was fast asleep, even dreaming it looked like by her eye movements, and I had sex with her. She did not wake up during the whole act. When she woke up she did not remember anything, but nine months later that dream became life, if you know what I mean."

"I think I do. But that explanation would be too "X-files""

"X-what?"

"Nothing. Some program"

"Oh."

He never talked with his father about it again.

As usual, his wife patted him in the back when he woke up from his nightmare. She did not even wake up by now when she did it; it was just a reflex after so many nights of his mid-night waking. And so he went right back to sleep again and the dreams followed shortly after.

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The first morning in the new town was a slow one. After spending the previous day unpacking they both felt like staying home and doing nothing. And so they did. None of the neighbors seemed to care what they did anyway.

On the afternoon they set out to meet some people. They had chosen to move to this quiet town because they thought it would be a better place to raise their baby than the big city. After all, there were no gangs or drugs or robberies in Hush River. It was a very small community, mostly white, and surrounded by nature on all sides. The closest big city was miles away. However, as most small towns, it had its secrets.

Gustavo had read about it before moving here. Five years ago, a couple disappeared in this area; the bodies were never found. Ten years before that, a man was brutally killed in the town. His body was found torn to pieces in the creek. A mentally challenged man was accused for the crime and locked in an asylum. He had been seen with the man by town witnesses on the night of the murder. All three victims were black.

He was not too concerned about all this.

"Crazy people are everywhere, anyway", he thought to himself. He did not comment anything of this to his wife, though.

And so they met the townspeople. There was Mr. and Mrs. Wong, who owned a Chinese restaurant and a dry cleaner. They had only been in town for a year. There were the Smiths who lived beside them, who looked like your typical white southern family. There was the Browns, John and Linda; she was born and raised in the town, started to go to college in New York but came back two years ago, married to John, who happened to be black. When they met Linda's parents, the Whites, he mentioned Linda and their faces became blank, as if they did not know who he was talking about. And there were the Moores, who lived two houses down. They were a very friendly couple who invited them over for dinner. Mr. Moore was also born and raised in the town, and his spouse was the local doctor. She was from up North. They had a little boy and a 10-year old girl. They were also white. The Moore's house was the only place they felt really welcome.

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Days went by without much change. As a matter of fact, the only things that were constantly changing for Gustavo were his dreams.

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The car was going so fast that the motor was screaming for mercy. He was almost blinded by the lights reflecting on his rear view mirror. It looked as if a pickup truck was following him at very close range. He looked to the passenger seat and saw his pregnant wife there. In the dream, he tried to change it to where she wasn't there. He would rewind his dream and think, "she's not there", but there she was every time. Her face was white with fear. Suddenly, a car came out of nowhere a couple of feet on front and blocked the whole street. He felt trapped, that something terrible was going to happen, and he could smell the fear in the car, but no sound.

He woke up, looked around, and went back to sleep.

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Several weeks later, Gustavo was alone in the house. He heard somebody knocking at the door. It was Mr. Moore.

"Hi, Mr. Moore! What's up?"

"Oh nothing much. I knew that your wife had her appointment today with Debbie, so I decided to come over."

"Good, do you want something to drink? A beer or...?"

"No. Listen Gustavo, I can't be here long. You're from Mexico, right?"

"Puerto Rico"

"Right. There's something that will happen soon and...Well, my family and I are going away for a couple of weeks. You know, vacation, visiting her parents. Well, I just thought maybe it would also be a good time for you and your wife to go out of this town, go somewhere nice for a week or so."

"I don't understand. Why are you..."

"Well, you see, are you superstitious?"

"Maybe a little."

"Let's just say that in two weeks we will be at a date that has some...history to it. And maybe you should just... not be here for that week."

"What kind of history?"

"Well, there are things that go on here that I can't say, but I don't want it to affect you. I was raised here, and I better not betray this town, but I like you and your wife, you know? The Wong's I never really cared for, they think they're better than us. And Linda Brown, well I'm sure she'll be fine. Him I don't know, I haven't had a chance to talk to him much, so..."

"What the hell are you talking about? Him who? What...?"

"Listen, I have to go. But trust me. This is a very fine town, but sometimes a really bad storm heads this way, and it ain't pretty. And the way the sky is darkening, I think the storm's headed this way in two weeks. I have to go. I'll see you"

"But..."

But it was too late. He left as if his life depended on leaving quickly. He tried asking him again, but Mr. Moore completely ignored the subject. Before Gustavo knew it, a week passed by and Mr. Moore and his family had left.

For the next couple of days, and for the first time in his life, he could not remember his dreams. However, he did have one dream when he dozed off while watching a game.

A man was dressed in what looked like a monk's gray dress. He was holding a big book in his hands. The man opened the book, and Gustavo could see images come to life in it. He saw some kind of festival, with people jumping and screaming, but as usual he did not hear a sound. The people were gathered around some kind of town square, not unlike Hush River's square. There were a lot of people in the festival, and all of them were dressed in white except for a snow white-skinned young lady in black clothes that was walking around the crowd. She was the only one that did not look like she was cheering, but she did not look sad either. For some reason he was looking at the festival from far away, like if he was not welcomed there. From where he was, he could see what looked like a river of blood running on the street and flowing down through a storm drain. The people were trying not to step on the red-black liquid, but some were not having much luck at it. He could see them cheering and chanting and they looked somewhat funny since he could not hear what they were singing. Then suddenly, a pale man dressed in clothes like the night appeared before him, and with a deep, penetrating voice said: "Stay away"

As quickly as the dream had come, it was over. Gustavo was left wondering about the fleeting dream where, for the first time, he had heard something.

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Gustavo was not superstitious, but he did not like taking chances either. He persuaded his wife to go visit her mother in New York for a couple of weeks. Her mother had been whining about her daughter not being with her during the pregnancy, so he used this as an excuse. He could not go with her, however, because of his job. He had just started a few weeks back and could not take vacation time yet. In addition, he did not want to fully fall for superstitions and dreamed warnings. However, he did place a bible near his bed for no apparent reason.

The day after his wife left was a Saturday. It was as normal as you can expect; a beautiful day, with the sun shining and the birds singing. However, Gustavo couldn't stop feeling uneasy. Perhaps it was because today was exactly two weeks to the day that Mr. Moore had talked with him, he thought. Perhaps. That afternoon there was an unusually small number of people on the street. It seemed as if everybody was staying home. A brewing air surrounded the town.

That night Gustavo couldn't sleep. He was rolling around in the bed. No matter how much he tried to relax, sleep would not come to him. At almost 2 a.m. he gave up. He got up from the bed and headed for the living room to watch some TV. If he could not go to sleep, perhaps he could catch a Seinfeld rerun.

When he passed the living room window, he thought he saw lights all over the street. When Gustavo looked closer he could see people walking in the street with candles in their hands. Before he could spend too much time wondering what the hell they were doing, the next door neighbor's front door opened. As he squatted so as not to be seen, he watched the Smiths come out the door silently. They were all dressed in white robes and had plastic bags covering their feet. He did not know what was going on, but he knew it was not good.

Though scared as he was, he decided to go out and take a look. He felt that in the house he was safe, but he wanted to investigate this strange occurrence to be sure. He slipped out of the house through the back door. He had dressed himself in black to hide in the night's dark, like they do in the movies. For some reason, he instinctively headed towards the town square.

What he saw then at the town square changed his life. Ducked behind a car, he saw what appeared to be almost all the town people standing as if waiting for something, all dressed the same; white robes. Then the town hall clock stroked 2 a.m., and everybody started screaming. Then he saw as they headed to Linda Brown's house, breaking windows to get in. After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, they came out with John, her husband. He was bleeding from what appeared to be blows to the face, his hands tied behind his back and his mouth gagged. Gustavo could hear Linda's desperate screams from inside the house, but she was apparently left inside the house. John was taken to the middle of town square while the Smiths started spreading gasoline around the house. Linda's dad then threw a lit match to the floor and ignited the house in flames:

"You just killed my daughter, you bastard!" he said, talking to John, who could do nothing but moan in pain as somebody hit him with a bat.

"This man went crazy and set fire to his own wife, and the townspeople made him pay with his life. That's what the papers will say. But before you die, John, know why you are dying. Today is the festival. Every five years, since this town was established over 200 years ago, we celebrate the purity festival. We celebrate our race, and in gratitude for it, we take the life of somebody from a lower race. So tonight you die for being black! But don't be sad, tonight you will also kill the Wongs and the Riveras!"

A shot was heard. John Brown fell to the ground, in pain. Somebody had shot him in the stomach. The shot echoed in Gustavo's ears for an eternity and painfully pierced his head. Gustavo instinctively got up and started to run.

"Hey, there's that Rivera guy!"

Somebody had seen him. It was a life race now. He headed for his truck, with the key in hand. He could hear the mass of people screaming and running behind him. He did not dare to look back.

He got in his truck, turned on the ignition, and took off. He screamed and honked the horn when he passed by the Wong's house.

"Get out, they'll kill you!" he screamed, but did not stop.

He headed north towards the city limit, thinking they would not follow him to the next city. The truck was going so fast that the motor was screaming for mercy. He was almost blinded by the lights reflecting on his rear view mirror. It looked like a pickup truck was following him at very close range. He looked to the passenger seat and saw it was empty. He thanked God that it was.

The truck behind him started to ram him, but Gustavo kept on going faster and faster. Then he started hearing gunshots. They were firing at him. One bullet hit the back window, but missed his head by a few feet. Another shot, and another, Gustavo ducked in his seat and kept on going faster and faster. For almost two minutes, this wild chase continued. Then, Gustavo smiled shyly. He could now see the city limit sign.

"I'll cross the line and they won't follow and I'll be okay" he thought, and he could almost hear his hysterical voice inside his head.

He passed the city limit line, but the other pickup truck kept going behind him. Suddenly, a car came out of nowhere a couple of feet on front and blocked the whole street. He felt trapped, that something terrible was going to happen, and he was afraid. His truck stopped only inches from the other car. Looking in his rear view mirror he could see that the pickup slowed down and turned around back to Hush River.

"I made it!" he thought. He was even more relieved when he saw the other car closely. It said "SHERIFF" on the door.

Gustavo stepped out of his truck and headed toward the police car.

"Help me! They were trying to kill me! My God, they are going to kill the Wongs! You have to get help!"

The Sheriff stepped out of the car. "Are you okay, sir? What are you saying?"

"They have some sort of crazy ritual and they are going to kill a black man and a Chinese couple! The whole town is in on it!"

"A crazy ritual? Oh my God, then you are a lucky man, sir..."

"I know, but the others are..."

"... because our festival was last year..."

Then suddenly, abruptly, the sheriff took a step towards him and looked at him like a hunter looks at its prey, and he felt blue eyes burning his skin. He started running, but it was as if he was not advancing at all. And he felt the footsteps behind him closer, and closer and closer. And then the sheriff was upon him, and he saw the knife as it pierced through his chest...

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It was hot tonight in New York. Gustavo's wife was rolling around on the bed. She then felt something moving inside her and touched her belly. "The baby's dreaming again" she thought, and went back to sleep.

Disclaimer: The Sandman and other related characters are a trademark, copyright, owned and exclusive of DC Comics. They are being used for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made off their use. The story is copyrighted to Carlos.