Page 57 of Dreamscape Therapies

"You ask questions that you have no right to."

"I'm asking because he's suffering."

"He deserves it."

"Why?"

"Because he is a monster."

"According to who?"

The dream shudders beneath my feet. A crack spreads across one of the remaining walls, and another appears behind the weaver. Loose strands begin pulling free from the ceiling and floating through the air around us.

The weaver takes a step backward.

It's retreating.

I'm losing it.

"Wait!"

The creature turns, and for the first time, I can read its expression. It's subtle, but I see it.

Fear.

Not fear of me, but fear of whoever might be listening.

"Who is controlling you?"

The weaver's eyes widen. "You should leave."

"Tell me who."

"You should never have come here."

"Who?"

The creature raises one of its long, needle-thin legs.

The entire dream convulses.

Every spool of yarn explodes at once, sending thousands of strands whipping through the air like a blizzard. They wrap around my arms, my legs, my throat, and I try to pull myself free, but the harder I fight, the tighter they become.

"Vincent!"

I search through the storm of thread, desperately trying to find him.

For a moment, I can't see anything.

Then I catch a glimpse of his face through the wall of yarn. His eyes meet mine, wide and terrified.

"Jay!"

I reach for him as the dream tears apart.

I'm ripped backward so violently that I lose my balance, and Vincent's scream follows me as the last pieces of the dream collapse around us.

The final thing I see is his face, his petrified eyes locked on mine.