Excerpts
Muted daylight penetrated Duncan’s eyes, jolting him awake. Where am I? Duncan looked around to see only a wall of dull, grey rock, with mountains in the far distance. A breeze chilled his naked body under an overcast sky. The book had told him that dream walkers often showed up without clothes. He had snickered when he read it, but now that it happened to him, it was no longer funny.
Great, he thought to himself, this is just perfect. He knew now that he was in a lucid dream or maybe on the astral plane, but he wondered why he wasn’t in Craig’s dream like he had planned.
Duncan climbed a small cliff and craned his head, cautiously peering about. He saw more grey rocks. They went on for miles only to end where the mountains stood on the horizon. Nice dream creation, Duncan. Make a note of this one for future visits; you may want to revisit this barren wasteland someday. Sarcasm brought some relief, but it was quickly overcome by the very present problems of being without clothes and, for the moment, homeless. Time to get back to the waking world. The book said that to get out of a realm, all you had to do was speak your intention to return to your body. Then you would simply wake up. Duncan spoke this intention and waited. Nothing happened. He tried it a second time, but still nothing. Then a third and a fourth, changing the words a little each time.
Panic slowly crept over him. The book said that it was possible for someone to get stuck in a realm, but it was very rare. How or why was not mentioned and to make matters worse, nothing was offered on how to deal with this circumstance. Was he being punished for wanting to get Craig back for all the things he had done to him, the years of humiliation? Duncan looked up at the bleak, hopeless sky and shouted, “I’m sorry!”
Not punishment. A woman’s voice spoke inside his head.
Then what? Duncan answered with his thoughts. Can you get me out of here and back to the waking world? No one answered at first. Have I gone insane? He couldn’t believe he was really having this conversation.
This is your world—for now, she finally responded.
“Tell me how to get back, please.” The rocks echoed back his spoken plea. “This place is awful.”
You need to go north, she said, in the direction of the waterfall.
“What waterfall?” Duncan turned quickly to see a waterfall in the distance where there had been nothing before. “Hey, how did you do that?” He waited, but his voice went unanswered this time. He sighed and started forward, promptly stumbling over something. He looked down and found a cloth bundle. Opening it, he found clothes, a canteen full of a liquid, and some strips of what looked like dried beef.
Duncan asked aloud, “If I put these clothes on, does it mean I am committing to this place?” As expected, his remarks went unanswered again. With nothing to lose, Duncan clothed himself in the leather skins provided and began walking towards the waterfall. His path traveled over a collection of sharp, uneven rock clusters, and the going was painfully slow. He had not gone more than two hundred yards when he had to stop to catch his breath and take a drink from the canteen of water. Gazing at the sky, Duncan estimated that it was dinnertime by the low lying sun.
He ate some of the meat provided then resumed his journey in the direction of the falls, making it about a mile before taking another rest. The waterfall was not getting any closer. “What is this, a sick joke?” Hopping over a small crevasse to get a better view, his foot missed its mark and down he tumbled, losing his glasses along the way. He landed with a thud in a shallow ditch.
Duncan pulled himself up, cursing and bruised, and discovered that he had landed on top of his glasses. He inspected them with dismay; his fall had crushed them. They were useless. He tossed them down and looked around. To his amazement, he saw that he didn’t need them—his sight was fine. Another oddity of the astral plane, he thought, smiling. It was the first good thing that had happened to him since he arrived.
After an hour more of walking, the terrain grew more hospitable. When he reached a vale, he was forced to start climbing up the hill of rock on the other side. At the crest of the rocky height what he saw was a joy to his heart. He looked down at a ravine of lush grasses, aqua in color, and tall silver trees. A river wove through the valley and ran off to the horizon. Duncan rushed down, and near the end of the slope, slipped and tumbled to the bottom, landing face first into a large tuft of the foreign grass. Relieved, Duncan paused for a moment noticing the cool, soft feel of the grass. Its fragrance was odd but pleasant; like vanilla honeysuckle.
Duncan laughed and got up, shaking off the new soreness. Looking up, he found himself facing the business end of a long bow and arrow. A large man, less muscle than sheer mass, with wild, red hair cascading over broad shoulders, was aiming at him. Two more men approached Duncan’s right and left sides. Their bows were cocked inches from his head.
