But that night I was the one to have a strange dream. I dreamed that in the middle of the night, I'd climbed out the window and roamed the streets. I felt like I was looking for something, but I didn't know what. And people were afraid of me. They ran out of the way as I walked past them, screaming as though I was carrying a machine gun in my hand. When I awoke the next morning I found that I'd kicked off my socks at some point during the night. Then I noticed that I'd also somehow managed to shrug off all of my clothes. I didn't notice this at first, but after I did, I was shocked. I pulled the covers up over my head and pretended to be asleep until the guys went downstairs. Then I got out of bed and got dressed. I examined the pajamas that I'd worn to bed. They seemed to be fine. Then I looked closer and saw that they were stretched. I put on the shirt and saw that it was stretched so much that now it was easily two sizes too big for me. I held it up and looked at it again. I'd have to live with it, I had only one pair of pajamas. I still was mystified as to how they'd gotten that way. I wondered if it had anything to do with the dream I'd had. I decided not to tell the guys. Hopefully, they wouldn't notice.
Peter couldn't hold out forever, though, and as the pain increased, he was unable to deal with it, and let out a moan. Mike heard him and turned to look, concern showing in his brown eyes.
"What's the matter, Pete?" he asked.
"Nothing," Peter said, shooting me a pleading glance. Mike wasn't satisfied, however. He looked at Peter closer.
"No, Pete, you don't just moan in the middle of lunch for no reason. What's the matter?" Mike looked at Peter closer.
"Nothing, Mike," Peter said. He saw that Mike wasn't convinced, and that he'd have to do something. "Excuse me a sec," he said, and got up from the table. I watched him go, wishing I could help. I didn't know what to do. I looked at Mike. I sensed he was worried about Peter. Mike started to get up.
"Mike, don't," I said, wondering if he'd listen. "He needs to be alone. He'll be fine. Trust me." Mike looked at me. Then he looked at the doorway that Peter had gone through. He looked at me, then at Micky, and finally he sighed and sat down.
"What's the matter with him?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. He's been in pain all through lunch."
"And you didn't say anything?"
"He didn't want you to know," I said. It seemed like a feeble excuse, and I knew it. Mike did, too. He didn't say anything, though. He'd finished eating by then, and got up again to clear away the plates. On his way to the sink, though, he stopped and held his head.
"Mike, something wrong?" Micky asked.
"Nah, I'm fine. Just got a headache there for a second. Musta gotten up too quickly," he said. He shook it off and started to wash the dishes. Micky nodded and went onto the other room. I sat there and thought. Mike and Peter were both getting varying pains. I wondered if something was up, but I had no idea what it could possibly be.
Later that night, just before sunset, as we were all going to eat dinner, I went upstairs to see if I could find Peter. I assumed that he'd gone into the bedroom. I doubted if he'd feel much like eating, but I went to look anyway.
"Peter?" I asked, knocking on the door. There was no response, not even a moan. I opened the door and went in. I scanned the room with my eyes.
"Mike! Micky! Come here, quick!"
The noise from the bedroom alerted them both quickly. Mike ran up the stairs, with Micky at his heels.
"What is it?" he asked, crashing into me in the hallway.
"Peter, he-he.."
"He what?" asked Micky.
"He's gone." The news hit them quick and sudden. They charged past me and into the bedroom, not believing me. A moment later they emerged, believers.
"But, but, where did he go?" asked Micky.
"And why?" Mike added. "Why did he go?"
"I don't know," I said. Mike looked at me. "Oh, no you don't. I'm not going to try. Don't even think about it. Remember what happened last time?"
"C'mon, Davy, you gotta do it," he said. He looked at me with pleading eyes. Finally I gave in.
"Alright. But on one condition. You gotta promise to bring me out. " Mike agreed.
I closed my eyes and thought of Peter. I saw the streets. Peter, I thought silently, where are you? Peter did not appear in my mind, however. C'mon, Peter, where are you, I thought, getting desperate. Where was he? I'd never had any trouble with this before. All I kept seeing was the streets and a few random people. No Peter. Alright, I thought, giving in, at least tell me if Peter's alright. I saw a flash of light. The next thing I saw was a moon. The moon, that is. The full moon. I felt a flash of pain run over my body, and I knew immediately why Peter had been in pain. The experience of changing must have been painful. I thought of Mike again, but I couldn't get anything. I began to panic. I'd always been able to try to bring myself out of it by thinking of Mike. Then I realized. Tonight was the full moon, and Mike would change, too. Thinking of Micky also brought no result, and I began to panic. How would I get myself out of this? I had very little experience. I began to get angry with myself. I 'd known it was a bad idea to do this. I didn't know how to get myself out. As long as Mike (and probably Micky) weren't human, I had no one to latch on to and pull myself out with. And I couldn't get out myself. What would happen now?
Then, I felt something smooth and calm. A voice went through my head, calling my name. I felt soothed and the next thing I saw was a garden. It was very bright. The sky was bright blue, and the trees and grass were a brilliant green. It wasn't just any garden. There was something mystical, and magical about it. Then, I felt something wet. It was raining. I shook my head. Raining? How could it be raining? It doesn't rain in dreams. I blinked and looked around. The garden looked the same, and it was only raining on my head. I was confused. Then I heard the voice in my head again, calling my name.
"Hello?" I asked. "Who's there?" I saw a light in front of me in the shape of a person. I couldn't tell who the person was, and I couldn't make out any of their features.
"Follow me," the voice said. It was soothing and calm. If I could have tasted a voice, it would have been sweet.
"Where?" I asked. "Where are you taking me?" Without any will of my own, I was following the light. The voice continued to call my name. Then, there was another flash of light, and I was awake.
I sat up in bed, sweating. I looked around. I found I was still wearing the clothes I'd been wearing before. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I laid back down. I looked up.
"Davy, are you alright?" Mike asked, and I realized that it was his hand that had been on my shoulder. "You had us scared for awhile there."
I looked at him, confused. "Mike?" I asked. "What happened?"
"Sorry I let you down. I didn't know it was the full moon and I wouldn't be able to bring you out."
"How - how long was I gone for?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm not sure. All night and most of today. It's almost noon now."
"Peter?" I asked. "What about Peter?"
"He hasn't come back," Mike said. "But I'm sure he will. "
"I couldn't find him," I said. "I couldn't see anything but the streets. And then there was this garden. Mike, Peter was in pain because he was changing."
"On the full moon?" Mike asked. "I guess we can't rely on anything anymore. What about a garden?"
"There was a garden. And this lady, I think. No, it was just a light. But it had a lady's voice." I looked up at Mike. "I wonder who she was. "
Mike just smiled at me. "You should probably sleep, Davy," he said.
Peter did come back, later that day, and Mike and Micky greeted him with their usual enthusiasm. We would find out soon that this was to become a habit of Peter's; to leave around the full moon. We never found out where he went, but we learned to deal with it. At that point, however, we still were worried, and Mike and Micky were overjoyed when Peter returned unharmed.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I am told, Micky had another dream. This time, he saw something climb out of the window. And this time he was able to identify it. He awoke in the middle of the night, screaming.
"What is it this time, Micky?" Mike asked.
"Mike, it was.... it was a .."
"It was a what Micky?"
"A ..a...(gulp) mountain lion"
"A what?"
Micky looked down. Then he swallowed again and looked at Mike. "I swear, Mike, I know I wasn't dreaming. I saw something climb out of the window and it was a mountain lion."
Peter stepped in. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming, Micky?"
"I'm sure. I know when I'm dreaming and when I'm awake."
"Micky, go back to sleep. There's no way we could have a mountain lion roaming around our pad. And there isn't. You were dreaming. A very vivid dream. And it scared you. " Micky started to protest. "But it was a dream, Micky, and a dream isn't going to hurt you. It's gonna scare you, but it isn't going to hurt you. There aren't any mountain lions here, and they're not going to hurt you in your dreams. Now go back to sleep." Micky sighed and nodded. Then Mike and Peter went back to their beds.
But this was not to be the last of Micky's mountain lion. Sometime near morning, he awoke, restless, and went downstairs for a snack. He fixed himself a plate of cookies and milk, and after eating it, went back upstairs. He couldn't sleep, but sat in bed, determined that he would see the dreaded nighttime visitor again. He was convinced that it wasn't a dream. And he wanted to prove it to Mike. However, as the sun was rising, he found himself drifting back to sleep.
Suddenly, his eyes jerked open and he saw a figure slide through the shadows. "MIKE!" he yelled, not one to ever keep his mouth shut.
"What is it, now, Micky?" Mike mumbled, sleepily.
"Mike, I saw it again, and I wasn't dreaming. It went over there," he said, pointing in the direction of my bed.
"Micky, the only thing over there is the corner, and..Davy's bed?" he said, slowing down. "But, how?" He got out of bed and turned on the light. Then, he walked over to my bed. The only thing they saw was me, sleeping. "See, Micky, it's only Davy," he said. But there was doubt in his voice. Micky could tell.
"But, but, I saw a.."
"Shh," Mike said, shutting off the light again. "Let him and Peter sleep. C'mon. We're not gonna get any more sleep, and it's almost morning anyway." He headed downstairs, and Micky followed him.
In case you were wondering, my only recollection of that night was sleeping. I had that odd dream again, in which I was wandering, looking for something, but this time I was doing it on the rooftops. It was an exhilarating feeling. For some odd reason, when I woke up the next morning, the clothes that I'd fallen asleep in were nowhere to be found.
For the next few days, life seemed to go on as normal. Micky continued to have dreams of mountain lions climbing through the window, and he continued to insist that they weren't dreams. We developed a dull routine to our lives that seemed to be built around this. Usually, Micky would wake up, screaming as a result of these dreams very early in the morning, near dawn. Mike and Peter would go and comfort him. I usually either slept through these occurences or discovered something that told me it would not be a good idea to get up at that point. Though I didn't find my pajamas to be missing, I did wake up on more than one occasion to discover that I had kicked them off during the night. After Micky's early-morning wake-up call, they would all get up and go downstairs. They tried to be quiet about it, but usually if I wasn't already awake, this did it for me. After this, I would go downstairs and join them for breakfast, and since we all had been awakened so early, we'd usually be in bed, if not asleep, by nine.
This routine continued for four or five days, as Micky continued to have the dreams. I continued to have dreams, also. Usually, when I awoke, I kept the feeling of restlessness. I found myself feeling tired a lot, and I would often find myself loosing concentration. My thoughts were somewhere else, though I didn't know where. The strain of such a hectic routine was showing on all of us. Mike and Peter looked as exhausted as I felt, and Micky was the worst off. Despite feeling exhausted, we couldn't sleep anymore. After Micky's nightmares, we would usually try to go back to sleep, but it was useless.
After four or five days, I expirienced my first real and calm, soothing sleep in a long time. I had a calm, soothing dream of being in a massage parlour and feeling very relaxed. When I awoke, I found that for the first time, we had all slept past five in the morning. And I hadn't lost my pajamas. It was nearly eleven, and I awoke feeling refreshed and happy. I looked around the room and saw that everyone else was still sleeping, but as I scanned the room they began to awaken, also.
"Good morning, guys," I said, cheerfully. "It's ten-fourty-four."
"Really?" Micky asked. "That was a great dream. And a great sleep."
I bounded out of bed, excitedly, and forgot about my pajamas which were now easily two sizes too big for me.
Naturally, Micky had to go on this. "What'd you do, Davy, shrink even more?" he asked, grinning.
I wished I had a comeback but I didn't, so I just ignored him.
Later that night when we were all getting ready for bed, Micky started the tirade again.
"Did you fall into some hot water?" he asked. "Or did your pajamas grow faster than you?"
I couldn't take it any more and I leapt on to him and began to yell. He retaliated, and Mike and Peter entered the room to find us rolling on the floor. They pulled us apart and we listened to a lecture on fighting.
"That was silly of you to fight," Peter said.
Mike agreed. "Especially over something that small," he added. "Now apoligize."
Micky and I both apoligized to each other and went to sleep.
