Chapter Five
For the next several days, Brock spent time talking with Marian and walking through the forest, picking berries and chatting about pokemon. He cherished each day that passed by, but when the evening came, he felt a sense of dread that could not be lessened, not even with Marian around. He had been having the same nightmare for the past several days, and each time, it was worse than the one before it.
Nighttime came, and the chirping of the caterpie could be heard in the far distance. Brock took off his heavy green vest and lay it on the chair next to the small bed. He looked over at the window at the calm evening scenery, and for a moment, he closed his eyes and took in all the heaven around him. I still can’t believe a place like this exists, he thought to himself. It’s almost like a dream… As Brock finished that thought, Marian popped in quickly, surprising him.
"Oops! Sorry about that," she chimed, " I just came to bring you a softer pillow…" Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure why. She blushed, and he soon figured it out. He looked down, and realized he had taken off his vest and was only wearing his skimpy orange undershirt to cover his upper body. Being a gym leader for many years had kept him, well, physically fit, to say the least. Turning cherry-red, he yanked off a sheet from the bed and covered his chest with it. Oops! How embarrassing! … but, she did blush… His mind almost trailed off too, but he snapped out of it quickly.
"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t burst in like that," she said, smiling, "here’s a pillow for you." She deposited the pillow on the mattress, and then scurried to the door. Before she left, she turned and smiled slowly.
"Pleasant dreams, Brock. I’ll see you tomorrow!" She winked and laughed softly and she silently closed the door. He could hear her footsteps move down the hall to her own room, and when he heard her door shut, he collapsed onto his bed. Haaaah……… His mouth was wide open in a gaping, stupid grin, and as he was sprawled out on the bed, he looked up at the ceiling. He glanced at his shirt again. Hehehe… hmm, maybe I should wear this shirt more often…
*****
He began dreading his dreams. This dream was starting, like all the others had before it, in a dark, pitch-black space, cold, and smelling of that horrid, artificial, almost Lysol-like smell. He tried running, but everywhere was the same-- a never-ending black landscape. The voices began coming to him, louder this time, of two people, trying to get through to him. The girl’s voice was racked with sobs, the boy’s voice harsh with anguish. In this mind, he could feel their pain, their extreme grief, and it made him feel as they did. He knew what would come next, and that was the part he feared the most.
"NO!!" Brock yelled, "Stop this! I don’t want to feel this way! I just want a normal life!! Why do you keep making me feel their sadness, their emotions? Stop it!!"
He looked up at the black sky for an answer, but none came. Why, why this same thing over and over? Before he could finish that thought, the jolt of pain came through his head. A searing blast ran through his mind made him yell out in agony.
"AUGH!!!!!" He shouted. He held his head, but the throbbing continued, and he knew he would not be able to stand it much longer. I have to… I have to… think… concentrate… He knew that the only way he had gotten out of the dreams before was to think of one thing, and one thing only. With the pain coursing through his head, fell to his kness and desperately tried to clear his mind and think of the only person who he wanted to be with, the only one who could save him… Marian. He thought of the time they had spent together, how kind she had been to him… and how much he liked her… With that thought, the pain subsided, and he instantly felt lightheaded, and his vision blurred. He fell slowly to the ground, and fell unconscious.
*****
When he uneasily awoke, the soft sun’s rays stroked his head, and he opened his eyes slowly.
He sat up and looked around. What is it about that dream? he thought. Why do I keep getting it every night? He looked over at the small table near the corner of the room by the door. A vase of newly-cut, fresh, sweet-smelling flowers were there, probably placed there for him by Marian before he even woke up. When he thought about that, he blushed slightly, but then a new thought drifted into his head. Why does thinking about Marian save me from that horrible nightmare? What is it about her? Is there more to her than what I see? He decided that perhaps now was the time to find out.
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