Dream of Me: Book 1 The Dream Makers Series
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Authors: Quinn Loftis
Dream of Me
Book 1, The Dream Makers Series
Quinn Loftis
Published by Quinn Loftis Books LLC
© 2014 Quinn Loftis Books LLC
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Dedication
For Bo. Thank you for making all my dreams come true.
Acknowledgments
For everyone who has believed in me, stuck by me, encouraged me, helped me and listened to all my worries that this book wouldn’t be good enough. I truly hope I prove myself wrong. Thank you truly from the deepest part of my heart for reading my books. I can’t imagine a greater compliment than to know you took your time to sit down and immerse yourself in the world and characters I tried so very hard to make enjoyable. I hope I meet and exceed your expectations, and if I do not I promise to try even harder on the next book.
Dream of Me Synopsis
Since the dawn of time, Brudair, otherwise known as the Sandman to the world, has faithfully lived out his purpose, faithfully performed his duties. He has never questioned his lot among the immortals, until now, until her. Sarah Serenity Tillman, a consummate beauty both inside and out, is a high school senior five months from her graduation. She has great plans, dreams of leaving the small town of her childhood behind her forever. But destiny has other plans, and it’s the Sandman’s job to make sure those plans are fulfilled.
The tall muscular Sandman, known as Dair to his friends, dressed in black, wrapped in shadows, is more than a myth. And he has a job to do. His very existence makes him a creature of the night, because dreams, (yes the legends got that part right), were indeed his specialty. But his purpose was more than just weaving dreams for sleeping children. No, his dreams were made to influence, made to ensure that certain special individuals, those individuals who would change the course of history, actually accepted their chosen destiny.
Little does Serenity know that she is Dair’s next assignment. And the dream that he weaves for her, if she follows its influence, will change the course of, not only her life, but possibly the whole of history as well. But she isn’t the only one being influenced. The beauty inside of her was weighing on the Sandman, lighting up the darkness that was his constant companion. Her light was warmth, it was life, and he didn’t understand how he had survived the previous millennia without it.
The Sandman was indeed greater than anything humans had ever imagined, and his purpose was vital to the course of history. So what happens when the weaver of dreams gets so distracted by a mere human that he ignores his own duties in the immortal realm? How can an immortal who was never meant to have a mate, join a young woman in her destiny without irrevocably changing the lives of millions and potentially altering history in a way the Creator never intended?
“
In the evening, while the children are seated at the table or in their little chairs, he comes up the stairs very softly, for he walks in his socks, then he opens the doors without the slightest noise, and throws a small quantity of very fine dust in their eyes, just enough to prevent them from keeping them open, so they do not see him. Then he creeps behind them, and blows softly upon their necks, till their heads begin to droop. […] Under each arm he carries an umbrella; one of them, with pictures on the inside, he spreads over the good children, and then they dream the most beautiful stories the whole night.” ~ Hans Christian Anderson
D
air was pretty sure that if ever an angel had an equal on earth, Sarah Serenity Tillman was it. He watched her as she carried boxes, helped organize each booth for the sale, and brought plates of food to everyone after having taken it upon herself to order and pay, though no one realized she had, for the pizza. She appeared tireless. After five hours of helping three churches put together a large fundraising craft fair/bake sale, Serenity still had a smile on her face. She was asked the same question by every elderly lady with purple hair in the county, and with each one she patted their arm, smiled warmly, and answered with just as much patience as she had the very first time. Dair was just waiting for the moment when she finally threw her hands in the air and said to hell with it, the way most would have. But as he watched her get into her car waving at the pastor’s wife and telling her she would be back at 6:00 a.m. to help tomorrow, he realized that Serenity was not
most
people. She was something else and he wanted to know more. Not just because she was his next assignment but because she was different and he wanted to know why.
The next day, she did just as she said she would. She was the first one at the building to help with the fundraiser. After lunch she told a lady named Pearl, apparently the person in charge of the entire event, that she needed to leave. She apologized profusely and then explained that she had volunteered to help her aunt decorate the library for Christmas, to get the Angel tree organized, and to wrap the gift boxes for the presents they were sending overseas to the soldiers still stationed there.
“I truly am sorry, Mrs. Pearl,” Serenity said sweetly. “I didn’t realize I had overbooked myself.”
“You go on, honey,” Pearl waved her off. “You’ve done more than enough. I think we can handle it from here. Thank you for everything.”
“It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad I could help.”
Dair had watched as she decorated the library, made posters for the canned food drive and Angel tree, and then wrapped twenty small boxes that people could take and fill with things to send the soldiers. The entire time she talked happily with her aunt, Darla, who might be the only person as angelic as Serenity. They sang Christmas hymns and told stories of memories from the previous year’s Angel tree event. Not once did she complain that her feet hurt, or that she was tired, or that she had had to smile so much in the past two days that she was sure her face would split in half. Her kindness was contagious, Dair noticed, because people smiled when they saw her coming. They went out of their way to wave at her or stop and talk to her, and he could tell that they genuinely liked Serenity.
He could have finished this job days ago, but he continued to observe her daily life for a week. The only time that Serenity ever allowed her weariness, worries, or any emotion other than care and kindness, to show was in the privacy of her room and only to her cat, Mr. Whitherby. It was in those times when the house was quiet and still that she would pour out her heart to her faithful, but cantankerous, feline sounding board. It was also during those times that Dair truly got to know and begin to understand Serenity Tillman.
He had been weaving the dream every night for the past four nights, while silently watching her during the day. And still after four days he had yet to get the entirety of the dream into her mind. It was on that particular night that he felt the burden of his position for the first time in a very, very long time. He listened to her talking to Mr. Whitherby, and his soul shrank at the frustration and hint of fear he heard there.
“I’ve never been afraid to go to sleep before, Mr. Whitherby,” she told the large cat that lay in her lap flicking his tail as he purred under her attentive petting. Her hands stroked down his back over and over in a methodical rhythm. “It’s not necessarily that the dream is scary. It’s just that it is not what is supposed to happen; it’s not what I want for my life. I feel so selfish for wanting out, especially when I’ve allowed others in this town to rely on me.” She paused and took a deep breath letting out a long sigh. “I’ve already told Mrs. Brown that I can’t look after her dog on Tuesdays, and I’ve told the Humane Society that I won’t be there every other Saturday anymore, and yesterday I called the afterschool program at the elementary school and told them I couldn’t be a mentor any longer. Maybe I’m stopping all these things too soon, but I just want to have a clean break when it’s time for me to leave. Is that selfish of me, Mr. Whitherby?”
No, that’s human of you,
Dair thought to himself. Didn’t she see that she couldn’t just take care of everyone else all the time? Didn’t she know that eventually everyone else would drain every little drop from her without ever wondering if Sarah was being taken care of? There was no doubt that Serenity’s Aunt Darla and Uncle Wayne loved her, and would do anything for her, but they couldn’t meet all of her needs. They couldn’t fill every void inside of her.
If Dair was honest with himself, he would admit that he wanted her with a passion he had never felt before. As the ocean’s tide was drawn to the bank and helpless to deny the pull of the moon’s call, so he was drawn to her. The human female had no idea he even existed, and yet he longed for her to see him, know him, and want him as he wanted her.
In that moment, as she stared at her cat and her weary eyes filled with tears, Dair realized that he wanted to be the one to meet those needs. He wanted to be the one to take care of her when she refused to take care of herself. But though she fascinated him, this Sarah Serenity Tillman, he had a job to do. And this fascination was one that he could not afford. It didn’t matter that his feelings had grown beyond her being an assignment for the Sandman. She was human; he was something more than human. His kind were never to mix with the Creator’s children, and yet Brudair could not deny his need to see her, be with her, and know more and more about her.
When she finally drifted off to sleep hours later, she wasn’t aware of his presence. Instead she was lost in her dreams―dreams that he helped create. That was what he did. He was the Sandman, after all, and dreams were his specialty. His name, Brudair, was Scottish Gaelic that literally meant
dream
, though the messengers of the Creator often simply called him Dair. Humans had heard of him, of course, but they thought of him as a myth, like the tooth fairy. They even had stories about him and his job as the Sandman but they were way,
way
off. Oh, he did give dreams but not to everyone and not only to children as the human myth implied. No, his job was much more important than just making sure that children had pleasant dreams.
The Sandman’s job was to go to the people designated to him by the Creator and influence their dreams for the Creator’s plan. These people were not just everyday Joes. The people on the list were people who would influence the course of history, usually in some major way. They would save a life, lead a country, start or end a war, or perhaps find the cure to a deadly illness. They were game changers and it was Dair’s job to help influence them to move in the direction the Creator wanted them to go. His dreams did not guarantee that the humans would follow because they had free will. They were able to make their own decisions about the direction of their lives. He could no more force them to do as his dreams suggest than he could turn himself into a human. There were times in his long existence that he wished he could just tell the humans he visited why they must go a certain direction in their lives, but that was not his place. And he didn’t always know the full plan of the Creator.
So, since the beginning of time, he, the Sandman, aka Brudair, had been casting dreams. His life was one of solitude, his only interactions being with the messengers of the Creator and inside the minds of the humans he visited. He had never been bothered by this existence―had never questioned the Creator’s design for his role in the human world. Not until now. Not until her.
The very first night he had come to her, she had drawn him in by her gentle spirit. He had watched her interact with her family and seen the selfless way in which she helped them. Dair had seen her fret over her future because she didn’t want to leave those she loved, even though she so desperately wanted to get out of the small town where she grew up. He had listened to her pour out her heart to her cat, who followed her around like a loyal dog. She shared all of the worries that she quietly bore. But it was the times that he had seen into her mind while she slept that she had become even more alluring. She was so very in tune with her thoughts, even while asleep, that he had had to be very subtle about his suggestions. She seemed to question her own dreams while slumbering. Questioning was rare, and also troublesome, because it often caused the human to wake up before the dream could take root. Serenity, as she liked to be called―he had learned from his completely unabashed spying―was making his job take longer than normal because he had yet to plant a full, complete dream in her mind.
She stirred, drawing his thoughts back to the present, and he found, as he stared down at her, that he didn’t mind at all that his job was taking longer than normal. He wasn’t ready to move on to the next human. Dair wanted―no, he needed―more time with her. He longed to know more about her, to hear her voice, and to watch her live selflessly, putting others’ needs before her own. She baffled him because of her behavior. It wasn’t normal for a human to think of others first. From his long, long time in the world he had seen how self-serving the human race could be, and Serenity truly was a diamond in the rough on that rock called earth.
“Sleep, Princess of Peace,” he whispered to her. “Let go of all those burdens you bear and listen to the tale I weave.” He took a step closer, and another, until he was standing right beside her. It was too close, and yet not close enough. He hummed as he entered her mind with his own and began to build the dream once again.
Dair tried to create the thoughts in such a way that she would believe they were created by her own subconscious. He gave her very subtle suggestions and for a few minutes he thought that perhaps she was finally going to accept that there was nothing strange about the dream she was having. But as she rolled over onto her back and pushed the hair from her face, he knew she was already beginning to wake. Her eyelids fluttered several times before finally rising, revealing startling sea green eyes. Her eyes seemed to meet his but he knew that couldn’t be because she couldn’t see him, not unless he truly wanted her to. She blew out a deep breath and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Then, as she had done every night he had woken her up, Serenity reached for the notebook on her bedside table and began to write down her thoughts about the dream. The pages of the notebook crinkled as she flipped to the next empty page. Then the only sound in the room was the scratching of the pen as she wrote about the things he had planted in her mind.
“You’re a determined one; I’ll give you that,” he told her, regardless of the fact that she couldn’t hear him. Dair knew that she wouldn’t be going back to sleep anytime soon so he took a seat in the chair at her desk and watched as she turn her head, deep in thought. As minutes turned into an hour, he considered that perhaps he should get some sort of hobby for times such as this when he was simply waiting. But then he thought that such a thing might distract him from Serenity.
“That’s sort of the point, you stalker,” he grumbled to himself. But, stalker or not, he didn’t leave and he knew he wouldn’t. Instead, he would sit there, watching and wishing that he could reveal himself to her. Dair knew that would never happen, but for once he allowed himself to dream. Though he did not require sleep, he submitted himself to day dreams filled with sea green eyes and a voice that spoke to the empty places inside of him.
“It can’t be normal,” Serenity said as she looked over at her faithful cat. She reached over and scratched him under his chin, much to his delight as she continued to talk to him. “I just can’t believe that my mind is coming up with these ideas. There has to be another explanation.” When she pulled her hand away from the feline, he stood and arched his back, stretching as only a cat could. Then he walked gracefully over to her only to then ungracefully plop himself onto her lap over the notebook in which she had been scribbling.
“Demanding much, Mr. Whitherby?” Serenity asked the male cat. He gave her a look that Dair could only interpret as
get over it
, and then he proceeded to lick his paws and clean his face. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your bath while I try to figure out how on earth I’m having dreams that I think are telling me to stay in this small town—this town that I would practically give my right arm to get out of.” Mr. Whitherby made a grunting noise that caused Serenity to smile which, in turn, caused Dair’s breath to catch in his chest as he stared at her.
