Liandra and the Dream Reader Chapter 12


Progress

    Liandra woke up and slapped her radio’s alarm clock. She tried to stretch the sleepiness out of her flesh and bones but still felt restless, so she shook off her blanket and sat up on the side of her bed, yawning. She looked at the time on her clock radio and saw that it was only 9am. She’d managed to sleep through the whole night, though she felt like she could use a few more hours. Still, this was a huge development for her.

    The past three weeks with Roocean had been fruitful. She could now recall a whole host of details from her dreams. She remembered whole scenes, people’s faces, and could even better recall the sequence of her dreams’ events.

    She and Roocean had even noted a major shift in the tone of her dreams. She now saw people and places, old and new. She didn’t recognize any of it. Time periods seemed to cross and mash-up, as ancient men and women were often in modern settings amongst more contemporary looking folks and vice versa. There was no violence, only a very mundane passiveness as these dream-folk went about their tasks. The frequency of these dreams had increased in the last few weeks and Roocean noted that it had improved her mood as well, but Liandra felt that was to be expected when someone spent most of their nights dreaming about sunny grass fields with perfect calming breezes.

    Robert, on the other hand, seemed to be getting worse. Despite Roocean’s warning, they’d confided the details of their dreams with each other. Robert still had the same torturous imagery of the Minotaur, only now he could remember much more of it, especially the many gory details of each night’s death. He confided in her that there were more faces, all seated at the long table, more beasts like the Minotaur, only they had different animal heads—all of them shouting for his death. He’d managed to defeat most of them, until the Minotaur always bested him in the end in a different cruel death every night.

    Liandra felt bad for him, but she was also envious of his level of control inside his dreams. At least he had the power to fight the beast, she had only been able to wait and watch it come after her. She wanted to learn and explore her dreamscape on her own and not have her subconscious dictate what it wanted her to see. That control was the next step, Roocean had promised her.

    Since she couldn’t explore her mind as deeply as she wanted, she instead chose to explore more of the city’s nightlife. Gamla stan was beautiful during the day, but she liked it more when it was late like it was now. There was something about the nighttime energy that invigorated her and made her feel at peace. The people, the sights, even the air, all of it was better at night.

    She decided that now would be the perfect time to get a cool view of the canal. She’d liked spending time by the bridge, seeing so many people off to do their tasks of the day, but now she counted on it being much more beautiful at night. She walked briskly with her hands in her jacket pockets and quickly found herself by the bridge. She walked down its side to the waterfront and gazed down at the dark water below. She was right, the river was much more beautiful at night. The city’s multitude of lights reflecting off of the night-darkened water looked like a hazy galaxy of multicolored planets and stars. The rest of the city on the other side of the bridge looked just as spectacular.

    It looked like she wasn’t the only one who’d decided to come out by the waterfront tonight. Someone was across the water doing some type of fitness routine. It looked very deliberate, like some sort of martial art. It was interesting, strange, beautiful, and strong. She doubled back to the bridge and slowly made her way across it. Cars passed and flashed her with their lights. Every few seconds she seemed to flicker, ghostly in the dark.

    Once on the other side, she glanced down at the martial artist and was shocked to see that it was Robert. He briefly glanced up at her, but continued his deliberate and powerful-looking single blows and low stances. She couldn’t help but notice that he was shirtless and sweating despite the coolness of the night air.
Liandra: “You’ll catch a cold like that.”
    She was only partially serious. With his knees bent and left arm cocked, he burst forward and launched a lightning-quick straight-palm strike with his right hand.
Robert: “Why are you here exactly, Liandra?”
    He asked his question with more curiosity than annoyance.
Liandra: “Well, I decided to check out what the canal looks like at night and then I found some crazy man doing martial arts by the waterfront with no clothes on. If you didn’t see me earlier, I was across the canal. What exactly are you doing?”
    He continued his practice with a repetitive soft striking motion with his right palm, extending his hip and straightening his back each time.
Robert: “This? It’s Bajiquan, a strong and explosive art passed through generations of Chinese practitioners, mainly the bodyguards of the emperor. I practice it because it’s a strong and balanced art that keeps me in shape and helps keep my mind razor sharp. The focus it brings me is invaluable.”
Liandra: “You’re keeping your mind off your dreams?”
Robert: “No, I’m practicing for the next one. This focus brings extra mental strength and fortitude. Eventually I’ll be able to beat the Minotaur with the strength of my will alone. I’ll crush him and then finally move forward in my life.”
    He stood up straight and then changed his stance to one totally different looking. His now outstretched arms, splayed hands, and hunched back reminded her of wrestling.
Liandra: “Is that really possible? That Minotaur’s been with you for a long time now.”
Robert: “I plan to find out, but it seems so. I get closer to beating the beast every night that I dream.”
    Now his blows looked more familiar to her, more western. His strikes reminded her of MMA.
Liandra: “This style can’t be the same. What is it? It looks sort of familiar.”
    Now he stopped and looked at her while wiping his brow with his hand. He somehow looked like a bigger man with his shirt off. His physique was like a fighter’s. He picked his dark gray t-shirt up from the spot he’d folded it on the ground and rolled both of his arms in it while it laid against his bare chest.
Robert: “It’s not a very popular style of fighting. Unless you’ve lived in Greece, your chances of hearing about it are slim.”
    He hastily rolled the shirt over his head and the rest of it fell down his body to his waist. He straightened it out once he had it on fully.
Liandra: “My mother’s a Greek Brit. What’s the style called?”
    He seemed amused now as he looked at her with a slight smirk.
Robert: “What you just saw me using was Ano Pankration, the standing version of the ancient Greek martial art Pankration.”
Liandra: “It looks strong. Is it effective against the Minotaur?”
    He looked right into her eyes and smiled at her. He had a prideful look to him.
Robert: “So far it’s my best weapon against him. Would you care to learn it?”
Liandra: “Mmm, I’ll think about it.”

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