Journey of a Thousand Miles (Part 1)

"Justin…Justin…"

Justin groaned and tried to ignore the voice that kept calling out his name. He fuzzily wondered why the voice was being so insistent. Didn’t it know that he was exhausted?

"Justin, damn it, get your ass up!"

Great. Now the voice was yelling at him and he was being shaken. Knowing that the voice was not going to give up anytime soon, Justin forced his eyes to open. "I’m up. I’m up," he said groggily as he looked into the green eyes of his roommate Lance.

"Well, it’s about damn time! Did you know that your alarm’s been going off for the past twenty minutes?" Lance asked in frustration.

Justin pushed himself up on his elbows. "I don’t hear anything," he said as he yawned.

"That’s because I finally got sick of hearing it and came in here and turned it off. And like the wonderful friend that I am, I decided to wake you up."

"If you’re such a good friend, why didn’t you let me sleep?" Justin asked.

"Because you have an exam in your Modern American Lit class, remember?"

Suddenly Justin became much more alert. He sat up in bed and quickly swung his feet over the side, barely missing kicking Lance in the process. "Oh shit, you’re right!" He turned towards Lance. "Oh man I owe you. I owe you big."

Lance stood and made a dismissive gesture with his hand to indicate that nothing was owed. "So what happened? Stay up too late studying?"

Justin rubbed a hand over his face and groaned again. "No…I…I had this really weird nightmare," Justin said slowly as crystal clear images from the dream flashed through his mind. "Couldn’t go back to sleep for a long time."

"A nightmare huh? Must have been a bad one if it kept you up," Lance said as he began to walk towards the door.

"It was…different," Justin said softly.

"Well, listen, you can tell me about it later. Right now I gotta go to work. And if I’m late because of you, I’m gonna kick your ass," he said as he disappeared through the doorway.

Justin ignored his friend’s threat and turned toward his alarm clock. He had twenty minutes to get dressed and get over to the university. He could make it but it would mean forgoing a shower and driving like a bat out of hell.

‘Why do I get the feeling that today’s gonna be a shitty day?’ he asked himself as he stood up and prepared to move as quickly as he ever had in his life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin opened the door to his apartment and, locking it behind him, made a beeline for the couch. Not until he was seated comfortably, had his shoes off and the remote control for the tv in his hand, did he even acknowledge his roommate.

"Hey Lance," he said wearily.

"Hey," Lance said cheerily as he wandered around the kitchen opening cupboards. Much too cheerily for Justin’s liking.

Just as he had predicted earlier in the morning, the day had been a complete disaster. The English Lit exam had been hard as hell, he’d practically fallen asleep in his classes and to top it all off, he had spilled spaghetti all over a customer at the restaurant where he worked as a waiter.

Lance picked up on Justin’s mood immediately. "Bad day?" he asked.

"Understatement of the year," Justin replied as he turned on the tv and began to channel surf.

Lance chuckled. "Well, I know what will cheer you up," he said.

"What?"

"I’m cooking tonight," Lance announced.

"Oh no, don’t tell me we’re going to have grits and fried chicken again," Justin said with a smile.

"Don’t you go making fun of southern food. At least it’s better than that crap you Californians eat. I mean, why do guys feel the need to put avocado in everything?"

"And why do you guys feel the need to deep fry everything?" Justin retorted with another smile.

"Why do you feel the need to eat bean sprouts?"

"Why do you feel the need to eat pig’s feet?"

"All right, truce!" Lance yelled as he held up his hands. "If we don’t stop now, someone’s going to say something they’re gonna regret later."

Justin laughed and said, "Sorry, sorry. Truce."

The two men fell silent as Lance continued working on making dinner and Justin flipped through the channels on the television set. It was a comfortable silence, one that came from almost three years of solid friendship.

When they first met, Justin was entering UCLA as a confused freshman and Lance was plugging away as a junior pre-med student. They had literally bumped into each other one day in the library and soon found a great friendship growing despite all their differences. They got along so well that they decided to get an apartment together on a trial basis. Now, two and a half years later, Justin was a junior majoring in English while Lance was a first year medical student. They both worked part-time jobs and continued to share an apartment. And they both considered the other their best friend.

Lance was the first to break the silence. "So, you gonna tell me about the dream?" he asked.

Justin tensed at the mention of it. "I guess…" he said.

"Well, if you don’t want to…" Lance began.

Justin turned the tv off and looked at Lance for the first time since coming home. "Promise you won’t laugh."

"Do I ever laugh at you when you’re being serious?" Lance asked.

"All the damn time," Justin answered.

Lance considered that for a moment and then said, "I promise I won’t laugh." Then he gestured with his hand to indicate that Justin should begin. Justin let a small smile flit across his face at the sight. Lance could say more with his hands than some people could with the entire English language at their disposal. It had taken awhile for Justin to understand what all the mannerisms meant, but now he felt proud that he had mastered what he liked to refer to as "Lance language."

"I was in this really dark place…" Justin began.

"Like a room?" Lance asked.

"No, it was bigger than that. It was really huge. And it was dark all around me but not right in front of me. I could see just fine."

Lance made the gesture that meant Justin should continue.

"I started walking and after awhile I see this guy sitting in a chair. He’s kind of far away, so I started walking faster so that I could see him." Justin paused to collect his thoughts, then continued. "Anyway, I get really close to him when all of a sudden, my legs don’t work. I couldn’t walk anymore. So, I look at the guy and he’s just kind of staring off into space, real weird look on his face. Then he turns towards me and he says, "Can you hear me crying?"

Lance made a noise of interest but otherwise kept quiet.

Justin continued. "So, I’m still just kind of looking at him, cause I have no idea what to say, when he looks down and starts to shake. Then he looks back up and, this is the really weird part, now he’s crying tears of blood. And again he says, "Can you hear me crying?".

"Then what?" Lance asked.

Justin shrugged. "That’s it. Then I woke up."

Lance exhaled noisily. "That is some pretty weird shit."

"Tell me something I don’t know," Justin said.

"You know, that sounds like something from a movie. Maybe you saw that in a horror movie and it got stuck in your head," Lance said.

"Maybe," Justin said although he was pretty sure he had never seen something like that in any movie.

"Well listen, dinner’s gonna be ready in about fifteen minutes."

Justin stood up and stretched. "Gives me time for a shower." He walked to his bedroom and stopped at the doorway. "So what is for dinner anyway?" he asked.

Lance smirked at him before answering. "Grits and fried chicken."

"Asshole," Justin called out loudly as he walked into the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin opened his eyes and found himself in the same dream landscape from the night before. He groaned and tried to make himself wake up, something that he was usually able to do easily success, then groaned even louder when he found that it wasn’t working.

He was stuck in the dream.

He began to walk forward despite the fact that he really didn’t want to. He realized glumly that he was not in control here but that he was at the mercy of the dream. Just like the previous night, he saw the man sitting in the chair after he had been walking for awhile and he sped up his pace to reach him. Once he was within ten feet of him, his legs refused to move and he found himself looking down at the man.

The man looked at him, his blue eyes almost shining in the darkness, and asked, "Can you hear me crying?"

"What do you mean?" Justin asked.

He was hoping for an answer to his question, but instead the man covered his face with his hands and bent down. Justin watched as his thin body trembled in the chair. He knew what would come next.

Just as expected, the man raised his head and stared at Justin. Tears of blood were again streaming down his face, turning his face into a mask of horror.

"Justin. Can you hear me crying?" he asked plaintively, his eyes deep pools of sadness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Justin woke up quickly and instantly reached for his bedside lamp. Once the light was on, he sat up in bed and wrapped the covers tight around his body. He brought a hand up to his chest and realized that he was panting heavily.

Two nights in a row with the same disturbing dream. Two nights in a row having to look into that man’s eyes as he asked his cryptic question. Two nights of lost sleep that he could not afford to lose.

He lay back down on the bed and curled up on his side, his blankets now acting as a cocoon around his body. He looked at the lamp and for a minute he entertained the thought of leaving it on all night, then instantly berated himself for the thought.

‘Don’t be such a wuss,’ he told himself as he turned off the light and closed his eyes. ‘It was just a dream. There’s nothing to it.’

Now if he could just make himself believe that…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Across the concrete vastness that is Los Angeles, a man opens the trunk of his car and shines a flashlight into its depths.

He inhales deeply as the light illuminates his latest acquisition. It is so beautiful, even if it is covered in the grime that comes from living on the streets. Its face is peaceful now, courtesy of the chloroform that was used to make it sleep. The gag around its mouth covers its pretty lips and the man wants nothing more than to take it off and taste those lips but he forces himself to wait. He must wait until he gets his acquisition into the house. Then it will be safe to remove the gag. Then it will be safe to do anything he wants.

The man leans down and easily picks up the bound body from the trunk. It moans softly but does not wake. As the man walks up to his front door with his cargo in his arms, his heart swells with anticipation and excitement.

Tonight a new game will begin.