Dream Walker

by The Cowl Editor on March 1, 2018


Z's coming out of a head
Photo courtesy of time.com

by Connor Zimmerman ’20


I was cursed when I was younger, by a witch no less. To walk a thousand years in the minds of others. Those foul harpies always get the last laugh, especially when you steal their magic. My body was suddenly whisked away, and it has been so for 999 years. For those centuries, I have explored the minds of everyone.

I would have killed to be cursed with immortality—at least you get to live a life. Sadly, though, I have been relegated to the idiotic and lesser minds of others. Silently, I have watched people dream of falling in love, of winning glorious victories, of dying slowly, of the feeling of killing someone. I have been in the minds of heroes and villains alike, watching as a bystander. I watched helplessly as I have witnessed everyone’s last dream. Dead people don’t walk, they don’t talk, and they certainly don’t dream. But this pain will soon be over. For now, I rise.

The cool wind hits my face and my eyes slowly begin to open. Paralyzed, I see what is only in front of me—a large tree with a million leaves. I slowly begin to turn my head around and all I see for miles are trees. I look down and find I am covered in moss, dirt, and insects. Even when your curse is over, witches still find a way to piss you off. It takes what seems like forever, but I finally free my body from my dirt-filled prison and stand up. The sound of my joints cracking would make someone think I was 90 years old, not 20. But then again, I have “lived” for a thousand years. Knowing nowhere to go, I begin to walk in a straight line.

After nights of hunger and thirst which I haven’t felt in eons, I leave the woods and enter a small town. I try to shout for help, but my throat is too parched. I begin to make my way to a building, only to almost have my life end just as it began. A vehicle speeds past me, just missing me. God, how I hate humans. I eventually make my way towards the building and I walk in. I hit the jackpot because there is food and water aplenty. I begin to ravenously eat and drink all that I can with everyone watching in horror.

Eventually I feel a hand touch my shoulders, and I turn around to see a giant behind me. He shouts, “What do you think you are doing, little man?”

Little man—clearly he doesn’t realize that the little ones always aim low. It’s the only way to defeat a giant. I see his name on his chest: Reginald. I don’t know the name, but I know the face. This man dreams only of his traumatic experiences abroad where he has faced countless terrors.

With that in mind, I punch him in the gut, and as he bends over I grab his weapon and shoot it into the air. The resounding bang sends Reginald down onto the ground shouting, “Take cover, enemies with heavy fire, a click away.” As Reginald suffers in his panic attack, I take my leave and exit the store.

As I am walking down the street, I begin to realize how much I have missed in my long slumber. Everyone is dressed weirdly, there are enormous buildings that would put the castles of old to shame, there are crazy machines that seem to defy all human knowledge. I come to the realization that this is not my time. This damned witch’s curse has followed me into my real life. I know what I must do, I must find a way to track down this witch and kill her.

I quickly set about trying to find her, yet it proves more challenging than first thought. I mean, it didn’t seem like it would be hard to find an immortal woman, but apparently they know how to stay off the grid. I started by looking at conspiracy stories on some crazy machine called the internet, and I quickly followed the trail of cursed people. It didn’t take long to find out she was in some place called Eastern Europe, in the only place witches live—the woods.

After weeks of riding on strange transportation and trekking through the woods, I finally find the deserted hut that could only house a witch. I quickly avoid all the traps around the house and get in through a broken window.

As I climb into the house, a chilling voice bounces around the room, “So you’ve finally come to die, dream walker.”

“The only one who is going to die is you, immortal hag. I’ve come to take my life back.”

The witch flies down from the roof above, as her hideous, wart-ridden face comes inches away from mine. Her breath begins to melt the dead skin off of my face, as she taunts me, “How are you going to kill me? As you said, I’m immortal.”

I taunt back, “Everyone knows that even witches have hearts, and I have yours in this bag.” I pull a still beating heart out of my bag, and her smirk quickly disappears from her face.

“How did you find my heart, swine?”

“It wasn’t that hard, even witches dream. When you cursed me to walk the dream world for a thousand years, you didn’t count on me finding out your greatest dreams and fears.”

“What do you want of me, imp?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to see your face as I killed you.” And with that I stabbed the heart with a wooden stake, and the witch slowly began to fade away.

Soon everything around me began to blur, and eventually darken. I felt the sensation of falling overcome me, and I continued to fall until I hit the ground.

After several minutes, light began to pervade the darkness and I soon came to my senses. I was back in the woods where I woke up. I began to walk towards where my old village was, and then soon find it. I began to laugh and realize that the world was in my hands. Who could have known the power of dreams?