The Dreamweaver

By Mark S Green

The Dreamweaver is an entity whose only desire is to gain domain over the entire planet, mankind and the dimension to which we are all bound. It is true to say that he is not a man, a spirit or a God, being purely composed of alien matter unique within the universe.

His only true gift, in his slowly depleting world is the fact that he can manifest within any part or time within our universe, but only for a few moments. His main weapon is his ability to manipulate the dreams of any man or woman.

Richard is an extremely wealthy man. Life has been good to him rewarding him with health, wealth and happiness. He is married with two, twenty something daughters.

One day, Richard’s persona unwittingly changes. Events within his life start to take a turn for the worse. He experiences a car crash, is investigated for murder, his fellow directors turn against him and to cap it all his wife is kidnapped. After his attempts for help are spurned, by even his closest of friends, Richard decides to find his wife on his own accord. His ensuing act reveals some startling facts and hidden talents that even Richard did not know that he possessed.

As time passes by Richard decides to enlist the help of a spiritualist who in turn enlists further help from the spiritual fraternity. Slowly, between them, they discover that Richard was put on this planet to protect mankind; the only apparent problem was that he did not know it. Together they set out to explain to Richard that he was destined for greater things. To assure him that he possessed greater talents, but most of all, that he was on a collision course with the Dreamweaver.

The Dreamweaver realises that Richard aka Yevan, is undergoing an awakening process which ultimately, at best, could undermine his attempt to attain the domain of the universe, at worst could see the termination of the Dreamweaver’s existence.

As Richard discovers his gifts, he also discovers compassion. This revelation to Richard, changes his whole outlook on life. Old friends rediscovered are amazed at the difference, even his current friends begin to take a liking to him once again. With the onset of compassion also comes a realisation process which subconsciously opens up a link between Richard and the creator.

Eventually, the build up of events become so strong that Richard is not able to control them, his true source, his true entity, Yevan takes over. A real battle between the Dreamweaver and Yevan begins, supported by the full wrath and power of the creator. Surely the combined resources of Yevan and the creator should be enough to defeat the Dreamweaver, but as explained earlier, the Dreamweaver is an alien force to our universe. Success is not a forgone conclusion. A metamorphosis must take place for any real, successful conclusion to occur.

Eventually Yevan and the Dreamweaver come face to face in bizarre circumstances, highly relatable to the reader. Even armed with knowledge and power, still Yevan can only slow down the Dreamweaver in his quest for complete domination. The conclusion to this first book concentrates on how Yevan can only place mankind in a state of stasis, a form of suspended animation and to do this Yevan must risk sacrificing his soul and that of his human bond Richard.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark S Green
• Release date: Sep 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370042142

Mark S Green

Mark is an established author having written; The Dreamweaver - A fictional thriller - Smashwords, Amazon Kindle and hardback, Kobo, Nook etc. The Magic Bubble - Childrens storytime - Amazon Kindle, Kobo, Nook etc. Rhymes from the Book of Life - Book of poetry - Amazon Kindle, Kobo, Nook etc. Champagne et Limoncello - Book of Poetry - Amazon Kindle, Kobo, Nook etc. Co author of the Mirror Voices range on anthologies on poetry. You can also catch some of Mark's poetry on Allpoetry.com

Book preview

THE DREAMWEAVER

by

Mark S Green

Copyright 2012 by Mark S Green

All rights are reserved on this book the cover & title and the title ‘The Dreamweaver’. The aforementioned material may not be copied, reproduced or used in any manner, whatsoever without the express permission of the author.

Copyright 14/05/12 by UKCCS.

Email: [e-mail]

ISBN-13:978-1499278729

ISBN-10:1499278721

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank all of my friends and family who have helped and inspired me to not only write this book but to finish it over the last three, tortuous years. I would like to thank Elaine from ‘For the Muse Designs’ for her excellent sleeve design and graphics and last but not least Dwain from ‘Authorhouse’ who encouraged me to write this book in the first place.

Haunted

I see you

stirring from the heat

of the clinging sheets

Did my echo in the darkness awaken you?

Lonely pangs

love drowning in farmyard mud

that solemn cry for beauty

howling in an empty forest

resonating from thoughts gone by

did your sweat tingle

like a teardrop

balancing on the point

of a sewing needle

trying to knit your life

from patches of hope

or did you just wallow in slumber

in the sanctity of dreams

facing away from callous visions

that play in the labyrinth of your mind

so cruelly – so willingly.

(Mark Green)

FORWARD

‘The Dreamweaver’ is a psychological thriller about an entity, a form of life not too dissimilar from ours, taking away the beauty of mankind and leaving a cold, cruel being. This creature lives in another realm, outside our time sphere and physical dimension, in a dark place where even the foolhardy would choose not to go.

The entity, also known as the ‘The Dreamweaver’ is filled with malice, vengeance and hate. His greatest abhorrence is the human race. Not only does it want to destroy us as a species but also wants to obliterate all that we exist in, including our God, as to why, only time will tell!

Unable to make physical contact with us, the Dreamweaver devises a way to enter our very dreams, in so doing, managing to manipulate our very thoughts, manoeuvring us in ways that we wouldn't normally consider, thereon exploiting our very thought processes to the point of heightened greed, malice and wanton destruction.

When all seems to be going wrong, a friend of mankind intervenes, hoping to save, what is beginning to look like the impossible task, ergo the continuation of the human race.

At first this friend is confident that he can defeat the Dreamweaver, however as time goes by, it becomes clear that each failed attempt just strengthens the Dreamweaver resolve and weakens his own to the point where he is incarcerated by the very people that he is trying to protect.

When another mortal develops certain paranormal gifts, others are soon positioned around him like pawns within some bizarre chess game, as to who will win is anyone’s guess but as the events unfold, it becomes clear that there will be victims.

Prologue

Richard Formby Smyth was the sort of person who never really had to suffer the consequences of ill fate. Indeed, lady luck smiled upon him with stunning radiance. He was raised into distant nobility, his loving parents being proud and well respected.

Despite their obvious desire to guide him into an honourable profession, Richard was a self-motivated individual, determined to make his own way in life. It wasn’t hard. He could barely put a foot wrong, every decision, every business investment reaped financial rewards far beyond the expectation of most successful entrepreneurs, consequently making him a billionaire in the process.

He married well, a gorgeous and refined wife blessing him with two equally stunning daughters, all living in grand and opulent surroundings but there was a price to pay! Richard wasn’t gifted with such talent and wealth for nothing, he was being primed for a reason and he was soon to find out why.

Slowly, Richard realises that his quest in life is about to take a turn for the worst. The only conceivable predicament was, how bad can things get and ironically, could his action effect the rest of the world! Only time would tell…

Chapter I

The bitter taste of the alchemist

Don’t look too deeply into that mirror, don’t go beyond the glass and the polished metal, that little crack in the corner where bacteria thrives, definitely don’t go into the realm that lies beyond…

A solid mysterious shape of a life form, posture tilted slightly forward in a hunchbacked fashion, sat impatiently within a dark, dank room. There is no natural light here, just the flickering glow, illuminated from a single large candle placed exactly in the epicentre of an equally large, round oak table.

The lowly black shadow of the creature danced around the room, a room so dark it even appeared to overshadow the darkness within. There are no kindred spirit here, no friends, no allies, just a bitter, depraved entity, hell bent on revenge - stagnant, musky air within the room lingers as it becomes polluted by the entity’s aura, which in itself, overwhelmingly stinks with the stench of betrayal.

Parts of the room would occasionally light up, exposing random fittings that lay within. There was an old leather chair lined with the skin of an unknown gentile creature, a painting on the wall which looked like a sick portrayal of demonic afterlife, and to the side of the body was a drinks cabinet with a half filled decanter placed haphazardly on the top of it.

Alongside the decanter, lay jars of different powders and chemicals, copper, sulphur, magnesium, beryllium, to name just a few. To most of us, these are just simple elements. To the Dreamweaver they are all of the ingredients and compounds that could be associated with such a twisted, yet highly skilled alchemist.

The shape of two long gaunt fingers and a spiny thumb reached out and delved into a ready-made, yellow powdery compound, interlaced with a few strands of human hair and a smattering of blood. Slowly it pinched up some of the compound and sprinkled it into the flame of the flickering candle. The whole room lit up brightly with various indignant colours exposing an equally gaunt wrinkled face, barely smiling, barely alive.

The creature clumsily picked up a divining rod which was hand crafted from an old variety of willow, he slowly raised it with both hands and pointed the single end into the flame of the candle. As the sap of the divining rod blended with the still discoloured flame of the candle, something bizarre happened.

Licking his wrinkled lips, the lowly creature moved his face ever closer to the flickering dual flame and then as if from nowhere, observed a variety of various images, some of this world, some not. He conjured serpents three, commanded them with orders. They dare not disobey. His deeds were done by weak minded human mortals, hungry for power, lusting for greed. They were easy accomplices, thereon eventual serpent feed.

He could see the image of a man’s flesh, slowly being torn, it was a man he knew and despised.

‘I have you now Richard’, he whispered croakily. ‘I have you now, your mine!’

Jevan’s Story 1958

Hi, my name is Jevan. Pronounced Yevan, this is my first name. I don’t have a surname, my parents thought it wise not to give me one. I guess it was a post war thing. For my part, I think that it would just be easier to have a good old, regular name and get on with life, the same way everyone else does!

Anyway, that’s enough pontificating, I’m going to give myself a headache… Coming back to my story! The day started off perfectly normal. I awoke at 7.30 a.m. prompt, at least according to my alarm clock. The loud ringing noise echoed out with its usual aggressive monotone sound, stirring me abruptly from my deep, comfortable sleep.

Resentfully, I dressed myself in my usual attire, fashionable teddy-boy like clothes that conflicted with my personal beliefs, but at least I didn’t stand out from the crowd, that is, my disillusioned mates. It takes a courageous man or woman to do so here in the nineteen fifties, ‘Rock n Roll’ and all that jazz!!

I slowly descended, step by step, down the thirteen stairs that connected the two floors of my house, down into the damp, ground floor hallway. I noticed that there were two second class, brown letters on the floor, probably bills, and most unusual of all, a silver, glittery postcard. Filled with curiosity, I picked it up first and read the message that was neatly hand written on the back, strangely in purple coloured ink. It quite simply said;

‘Your dreams are about to culminate, when you can no longer

see with your human eyes, you will eventually

begin to see. Thereto you will eventually be free.’

I scratched my forehead for a while then shook my head with bemusement, my eyes still full of sleep. There were no indications, as to who had sent the letter, only the obvious fact that it was addressed to myself, as indicated on the top left hand side of the card. I momentarily paused for thought for a few seconds... my mind lost in some sort of early morning stupor. I realised that there was no postmark, no stamp, indeed nothing! I then placed the card on a nearby shelf, wedged behind an old Westminster chimes carriage clock and carried on with my life, none the wiser, or so I thought.’

‘Jevan, Jevan, are you ok,’ enquired Susan with a broad, yet beautiful Welsh accent. Susan was a petite brunette of medium stature, indeed a beautiful woman with a fantastic, bubbly personality. To say that I love this girl would be an understatement. I could never tell her to her face though… I’m not that brave!

‘You seemed somewhat preoccupied there whilst standing at the typing desk, looking vacant.’

‘I’m ok Suzzie, thanks… I just went a little giddy for a moment. You know how you can get a little light headed sometimes, right out of the blue!’

‘You seem to be awfully flush, your face is almost bright red, I think that you might be coming down with a virus or something, there’s a lot of flu about my darling. Perhaps you should take something for it!’

‘I’ll be alright, I think I’ll take an aspirin to bring my body temperature down, that should be enough... Life as an architect is not all a bed of roses you know.’

‘Get away with you, what have you got to be worried about, you’re bloody loaded, in more than one way!’ Susan giggled away, whilst I just filled with embarrassment, reddening my face even more.

Suzzie was right of course in certain respects, I loved my job, it was well paid, definitely within the higher pay bracket and the hours were arranged to fit conveniently within my ever eventful social life of beer and music. There was however one drawback with my comfortable existence, and that was that I keep having reoccurring bad dreams and daytime premonitions. I must say for the life of me I don’t know why, it’s as if I am connecting with other people’s dreams and thoughts, or conversely other people’s dreams and thoughts are connecting with me, quite a bizarre thought really. The thing that really concerns me is how realistic each situation is and how vivid the quality of the dream is, it’s like reality, only more real, if that makes any sense!

Once I dreamt that my arm was tangled up in some barbed wire fencing, blood was dripping down through the hairs of my left arm whilst I was trying to execute an escape from a concentration camp. Not a nice place to be in, believe me. It’s my guess that the period was probably during World War II. It was dark and very wet. I couldn’t see where I was going. I instinctively knew that if I was to be caught by my oncoming pursuers, then I would most probably be shot instantly on sight. Not a pleasant thought really, it sends shivers right down my spine, even now when I have flashbacks.

Anyway, I could hear the sound of several Alsatian dog’s barking and whistles blowing louder and nearer, as I ran aimlessly, dodging and jumping over numerous fallen trees and bushes which appeared as mere dark shadows in the moonlit night.

Suddenly I lost my footing and fell down a natural wild boar hole, to whence I awoke back in the real world to the sight of blood still dripping from my right arm. Shaking and sweating it took me a good ten minutes to sort myself out. I never want that dream to occur again, it was just too realistic!

Sometime after that dream, I decided to go and see a spiritualist who in turn recommended that I had myself regressed. Taking her advice, I went to see this highly acclaimed hypnotist, who was coincidentally, highly sought after, probably because she had done some cameo role on the radio or something.

One day she finally managed to regress me past my actual time of birth, it was truly a scary moment, particularly as each image came complete with incredibly strong senses and emotions. I remember those images as if they had happened only yesterday. For sure I have come to live with my experiences now, but it’s not been easy. For the hypnotist she could only conclude that I was most likely to have been reincarnated because my previous life was so bad. I am not 100% certain I share her opinion, let’s just say that I’m keeping an open mind. I will say one thing that’s for sure though, I am still getting various nightmares, and they are becoming more vivid, both with clarity and strength of emotion. I often wonder why I am getting them and what they mean! I guess only time will tell.’

Jevan casually walked back over to his draughtsman’s work bench and started fumbling around with little mock-up cardboard houses, almost as if he was a deity, building a promised land or something. Susan instinctively followed, as she often did, holding a half filled cup of tea in her right hand, whistling an obscure Slim Whitman tune under her breath, sporting an inquisitive look on her face.

‘Hey, go careful with that cup of tea Suzzie, that’s a dangerous weapon around here you know.’ Jevan smilingly nodded at some of the architectural, mock-up buildings that were strewn around the office, concentrating the most emphasis on his own grand designs, standing in his own promised land.

‘Is this your latest creation Jevan,’ asked Susan ingenuously.

‘Yes, that’s my baby, my pride and joy,’ replied Jevan, his voice filled with raw creative emotion and pride.

Jevan had spent the last 11 months working on this project. His blueprint design was to be one of the greatest modern landmarks that the world would possess, he just didn’t know it at this stage of the development, nor did anyone else.

‘Where do you get your ideas from, I mean it’s not normal to be thinking of buildings all of the time, is it?’

‘Well I don’t…. not all of the time, sometimes I think about music, sometimes football, and even sometimes about women.’

‘What, you think about women, I find that hard to believe,’ Susan chuckled, with a humorous after grunt. ‘You wouldn’t know what to do if you had one!’

Jevan just smiled. Although he obviously always had a thing for Susan he never found the time or the courage to express his true feelings for her. It was easier to just go and punch someone in a pub brawl, instead.

‘So!’

‘What!’

‘Where do you get your inspiration from?’

‘Well if you are going to push me for a response, my dreams and inner thoughts I guess.’

‘And where do you get your dreams and inner thoughts from?’

‘Inside the white light I presume. Sometimes I go to sleep, then wake up the next day full of all of this stuff. Hopes, aspirations, blueprints, they are all there, ready prepared in preconceived images.’

‘That’s funny, I have the opposite. Often I will go to bed knowing that I will be tormented by nightmares, some really garish. Most from the dark light, if that makes any sense. Sometimes I think that it’s as if there is someone trying to manipulate me from beyond this realm.’

‘I’m really sorry to hear that Suzie, that can’t be much fun for you. I know!’

‘It’s not. The nightmares are really scary.’

‘What sort of dreams, sorry, nightmares do you often get?’

‘I don’t like to say - to be honest Jevan, they mostly concern you!’

‘Me! Why on earth would you have nightmares about me?’

‘Like I said Jevan, I’d rather not talk about it. It’s all a bit gory and personal.’

Susan was starting to feel a bit embarrassed about the conversation and the situation that had developed between Jevan and herself. She paused for a moment…

‘You know Jevan… You hold such talent, such skill. I think it’s fantastic that you can channel all of your energy into something that’s so creative, particularly after such a bloody world war that we’ve recently had. What a waste it would be should you ever die?’ Susan was trying to be profound, which was an unusual trait for her. Normally she would just chunter on about boyfriends, women’s magazines and the like. The wider world, and its consequences often passed her blindly by.

‘That’s a bit random for you Susan. Anyway, who says that I am ever going to die! I might live an eternal life, who knows?’

David’s story 1975.

‘How long has David been institutionalised like this,’ one male nurse asked the other. ‘What, number 441532, beats me, he’s been here ever since I started working here, and that must be, phew, at least eleven years ago. Strange thing is, he doesn’t appear to have aged any in that time, it’s almost as if he’s immortal, and to be perfectly honest, Frank, I’m not all that sure that he’s mentally challenged anyway. Sure, he has mental fits now and again, but to me, I feel that he just emotionally displays to the world what most of us manage to hide inside. Is that such a bad thing! Sure would help to alleviate stress levels a bit.’

‘Nothing like ridding one’s self of a few demons eh,’ replied his colleague.

The second orderly breaks into a gentle whisper. ‘Do you know, nobody knows what David’s real name is, or in fact where he came from, it seems that he’s just part of the furniture, really?’

‘Are you alright David?’ enquired the orderly nurse loudly as he walked over and placed his right hand on David’s shoulder in a friendly but slightly condescending manner. ‘It’s ok we’re only talking about you.’

‘Anyway, going back a few years, a friend of mine accidentally caught a glimpse of David’s medical records. Apparently, David was brought here in the early sixties on an assassination charge. We are talking post-Cuban, Russian nuclear standoff time.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, no bull, it’s true. The whole world was on the edge of its seat, literally praying that World War III didn’t kick off and David was out there, based in San Cristobal, sorting out the bad guys. No one knows the absolute truth but within a couple of weeks of David being commissioned to the assignment, three Russian and two American dignitaries’ disappeared. The next thing, the Russian Navy is back on its way to the Baltics, nuclear weapons and all. The rest is history.’

‘That sounds a bit far-fetched to me Danny boy!’

‘Well you’ve got to believe what you want to believe mate. One thing I do know for sure, the doctors doped David up with all sorts of mind bending cocktails, in order to keep him quiet and distort his memories…. None of them worked. Technically he should be a zombie now, but look at him, he’s happy as Larry, playing with his toy building bricks.’

‘You know, it’s strange that you should say that! I’ve heard rumours in the past saying that his recollection to the Second World War was outstanding. Apparently he would dribble on about France a lot but then he would get confused with re-incarnation and the like. Probably explains why he’s been put in here in the first place.

Funnily, he came into the dormitory early one morning, once, looking bright and alert, full of life, looking almost as if he was glowing, you know, like when they say a pregnant woman glows, that’s how he looked.’

‘What pregnant?’

‘Yeh, sort of… I had just finished doing the night shift so I was pretty tired, but the aura that was coming off him seemed to wake me up, almost re-energise me, if you know what I’m saying!

I remember he started dribbling on about King Charles II, when he was trying to flee from the roundheads. He said that the king used to hide inside an oak tree. Would live there for long spells when necessary, after the battle of Worcester in sixteen bla, bla, bla. I forget now, the exact year.’

‘Strange thing to go on about!’

‘That’s what I thought Frank, but he just carried on talking with such interest, one couldn’t help but listen. Anyway, he finished off by saying – ‘My friend, don’t hide inside the oak tree too long, if you do, it will eventually become a strait jacket for you!’

‘What do you think he meant by that?’ Frank scratched his head whilst looking at David, as he in turn was starting to look a bit fidgety.

‘I don’t know. I think that he was trying to tell me that I should get out of this mental institution, before it’s too late! One good thing though!

‘What’s that John?’

‘They built and named our local pub after King Charles II.’

‘What the Royal Oak?’ Frank was looking distinctly perplexed.

‘Yes, that’s where the name came from.’

‘Oh yes. Never thought about that!’ The penny finally dropped…

‘Hey, can you here that buzzing sound Frank?’

‘No, what Buzzing sound mate!’

‘I don’t know! It seems to be coming from the left hand side of my ear.’

‘Nah, I can’t hear a thing mate, you must be imagining it or something, you weren’t on the mulled wine last night were you, or maybe the wacky back eh!’

‘Chance would be a fine thing, maybe ten years ago, anyway, certainly not on my salary.’

A ray of sunlight filtered through a small Georgian style window which was positioned in the wall, some two metres high. The light focused to a point on the grey tiled floor, just in front of David and to the side of the two male nurses. The sunbeam was bright and intense and if you looked hard enough, it was possible to see different shimmering colours of light dancing intermittently through the segments of light held within the ray of energy. Eventually the light spontaneously split like a prism although there was no visible crystal in sight to enable the divergence.

David stood up from his lotus crouching position on the floor, quickly glanced and uncharacteristically smiled at the two nurses, still managing to maintain a vacant look on his face in the process, he then gracefully walked into the prism of light as if it was the most natural thing to do.

Gracefully, he stretched out both of his arms to maximum width span, then for no understandable reason started rotating clockwise within the light, the light energy within the beam reciprocated and danced with David with melodic sequences. The palms of David’s hands were facing downwards towards the floor, with the edge of his fingernails cutting through the thickening air with consummate ease. Faster and faster he spun around, not becoming dizzy at all, just rotating like a perfect spinning top. As his hands cut through the atmosphere he gently hummed, in doing so, blue streams of light started forming behind his hands, dancing gracefully within the wind stream. As blood started rushing from his brain into his arms, a void started to form; the image of David became fainter and fainter, as each spin pushed him slowly into another dimension of time and space.

Surrounded by small colourful orbs, David’s body finally vanished, leaving behind just the clothes that he wore and a slight, light brown mist meandering within a faint musky odour. The two nurses could only stand and stare with sheer disbelief.

‘Shit! No-one’s going to believe this,’ exclaimed the one nurse to the other.

Chapter II

At a point of space & time also around 1975 earth time, in a place not within the universe as we know it, a consciousness awoke in a void of brilliant light.

‘You don’t have to go back you know.’

‘I want to.’

‘But you’ve been there on previous occasions; things never seemed to go right for you. Anyway, their time is nearly over. They are now entering their end of day’s period. It’s most probable that before their new millennium has reached its first quarter, they will destroy themselves. If that doesn’t happen within a hundred years, Saturn will cease to do her job in swallowing up meteors and the planet of water, sand and soil will fall anyway.’

‘That’s why I want to go back. I know these people, I care for them and a good many of them once cared for me, hence I feel it is my duty to help them through this last difficult phase of their transition. Their ignorance is their pain.’

‘I understand. I’m not too sure that I agree, but I do understand.’

A human shape started to take form. Mostly featureless with the exception of two vivid blue eyes, it gazed around at the six equilateral walls of the perfect translucent cube that cocooned it. The walls lit up with a solid beam of green fluorescent, almost translucent light. The friendly figure crouched forward and gazed down at the floor that it was standing on, casually observing all, as the floor turned to clear glass. Beneath its feet it could see millions of stars, some strong and bright other faint, with flashes of occasional blue, red or green.

The creature insignificantly developed a male form and noticed that within the epicentre of the vision that bestowed before him, was the image of a faint blue planet, which he knew to be mother Earth. A sharp green beam of light connected the two points. This familiar planet had seen such dramatic changes over the last seven thousand years both culturally and environmentally. Perhaps more than evolution had initially anticipated.

Desperately in need of help, it would only be a matter of time before the natural forces of the universe would respond to earths beckoning call, the virus that has unknowingly and unwittingly caused so much devastation, would eventually have to be cleansed or at worse exterminated by another virus. Suitably, this was indeed why the remainder of mankind was in so much danger and consequently in desperate need of help, in order