FicWad

August 22, 1978


"So was I really more handsome in your dream?" Ray's smile was teasing, and his niece returned it, looking up at him as he trudged along beside her.

"Yeah. You looked more like you do now. Only you didn't have those." She pointed to the shiny chrome and black plastic crutches encircling his lower arms.

"What did I have?"

Sophie knit her little brow in thought for a moment, pulling the memory to the front of her brain.

"You didn't have anything. You had on a red and black shirt, and black pants...it kinda looked like the guys on that old space show..."

His super suit. He'd often heard the uniform likened to those of the engineering staff in the classic "Star Trek" episodes. Interesting.

"Was I doing anything?"

"Not really. You just bent down and held my hand and I knew you were going to teach me stuff. But it wasn't like...help with my homework or anything."

Ray couldn't help smiling. "Well, no, probably not. But I think I can help you with your dreams if you want."

Sophie's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Really."

"Will it be a secret?" she asked, oddly serious.

"I'm afraid so."

"Good," was her emphatic reply. "I don't want anybody to know. I want it to be our secret, to be my secret."

It was strange how even as children, young supers figured out very quickly to keep their abilities to themselves. Perhaps it was a natural instinct in any human, or maybe it was unique to his and Sophie's extraneous genes; either way, if she wanted to protect her mystery, it made his job that much easier. Leah already knew, obviously, but Derrick was still in denial, which was probably just as well. He was one of those people who wanted to be in charge of everything, and really had no business heading up a community yard sale much less a church congregation. Even if he had been supportive of Sophie's gift- which he wasn't- Derrick would have wanted to take over her training himself, and that would be like attempting neurosurgery without attending either college or medical school. Because of this, Ray had opted to take his young protégée outside and away from the house. There was a neighborhood park and playground within walking distance and so, beginning to truly feel the pain of disused muscle and unhealed injury, he stumbled the last few steps of the five blocks before clumsily collapsing on a bench.

"You okay, Uncle Ray?" Sophie asked, leaning her hands on his leg and looking into his face.

"Peachy," Ray panted, more from discomfort than exhaustion. "Gimme a minute."

Sophie obligingly granted the requested minute, standing next to him patiently while he caught his breath. Once he had recovered, she climbed up onto the bench and sat beside him, her sneakers dangling a good ten inches clear of the grass.

"So what are you going to teach me?"

A good question. It wasn't "what", so much as "how". He had no doubt he could coach Sophie in managing her abilities- if he'd still had his own. However, without any powers, he was going to have to try to do this remotely, and a method had yet to present itself. Even Joe, while not a Clairvoyant, had been one of the most powerful Telepaths alive and had been able to communicate thought-to-thought when words were insufficient. Such a luxury would not be available with Sophie. Well, they were going to have to start small regardless. Getting an idea of what she was experiencing would probably be the best place to start.

"When do you usually have these dreams?" he asked.

"Um..." she thought for a moment. "Mostly at night. Sometimes they happen while I'm daydreaming, but they aren't like daydreams or night dreams. They're...different."

Ray nodded, remembering a similar phenomenon twenty-one years ago. "And you can tell them apart from regular dreams."

"Oh yeah," she nodded, her tone indicating that the distinction would be virtually impossible to miss. "They're way different."

"Okay, what are they usually about?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. All different things. Most of them are just...I dunno. Stuff."

Little things then, inconsequential daily nuances like lost keys and missing pets. At least she hadn't seen anything really traumatizing yet. However, as she grew older, her radar would widen, and a lot more unbidden images of anything and everything would find their way into her mind. With any luck, he could teach her to sift and select what went in and out of her head before she had a chance to give herself any accidental scars.

"Can you have the dreams any time you want?"

"No, they just kinda happen."

"Alright, well, I guess what we want to work on first is having dreams without zoning out. Then we'll work on learning to identify what you're looking at; events, places, what kind of importance it may have. It sounds like you're just seeing minor things right now, but eventually that will change."

She nodded gravely and took his hand. "Yes, sir."

Repressing a chuckle at her seriousness, Ray squeezed her hand in return. "Well, sit back and close your eyes for me. Do you feel different when you have the dreams?"

"Kinda."

"Can you try and feel like that?"

"Okay..."

Leaning back against the bench, she closed her eyes and relaxed, drifting back into a state of semi-consciousness. Still holding her hand, Ray could feel her step back into mental neutrality.

Good, he told her, not bothering- or noticing- to use auditory words. There's usually a place where the dreams come in. Can you tell where it is?

Already he had spotted it; a bubbling trickle like the babble of the little brook that ran through the park was evident behind her. It always seemed to be behind one; Ray could never figure out why. His own separate stream of consciousness had begun like this, but had quickly swelled to a roar that rivaled Niagara Falls. Mentally, Sophie turned around, trying to zero in on the little wash of images and feelings running through the back of her mind.

There! she cried, hurrying to scamper over to it, but Ray held her back.

Hold it, Sunshine, you don't want to go wading in there just yet. Remember what your mom said about strange water? Granted she wasn't really swimming, but even knee-deep depths could have strong currents, and he didn't want her getting swept where he couldn't rescue her.

Never dive in. Always check for the bottom. Never without a grownup.

Right. Now, let's just go over and take a look.

The human mind had the tendency to filter the unknown through terms they were familiar with and would enable them to understand something otherwise incomprehensible. Sophie's metaphor of choice seemed to be water. The tiny tide of images appeared like a vibrant brook of colors and sound, rippling over unseen pebbles between mossy banks. It was a good analogy; much better than the monstrous freight train that had always seemed to be careening past in his own head.

Wow... It was more emotion than an actual word, as she leaned and watched the narrow tide of images rushing past. The flow might not have been wide or deep, but it was going by at a good clip. Her wary gratitude at being restrained was evident as she edged toward him more closely.

It's okay. Now you know where it is. You think you can find it again?

Sure!

However, the mental game of Blindman's Bluff proved more difficult than Sophie had originally guessed. Rather than being told to simply look away and look back, Ray roused her to the waking world once more before having her sink back to a neutral state and then mentally spinning her around a few times for good measure. Only after she could pick out the stream to his satisfaction did they move on.

Good, you know what to look for. Now you need to learn how to get the dreams to come when you want, and to stay away when you don't. I had a lot of trouble with that at first, but it's actually not as hard as I thought it would be.

He could sense her nod as she remained quiet, awaiting instruction.

The thing about the dreams is that they don't stop and start, they just keep going past like water in a stream. Sometimes some dreams are more important than others, and so they overflow their banks and into your attention. It's kind of like having the radio on in the background, and ignoring it until you hear your favorite song come on. The idea is to keep a loose eye on the stream all the time, to split your attention if you can when that important dream comes, or to hold onto it in a little reservoir until you're ready to look at it closely.

As he spoke, a small channel snaked to one side, cutting through the moss of Sophie's imagined riverbank and forming a small pool at the far end. The newly-formed reservoir was little more than a duck puddle, but it would work well enough for her at present.

Good. What I want you to practice, is looking at the stream a couple times but without zoning out. Think you can do that?

She did, but again, it took a couple tries before she got it right. By that time, the sun was sinking into the trees and it was time to return home. Already the enticing aroma of meatloaf, stuffed chicken breasts, and the contents of other suburban cook pots was wafting in the early evening air. He hadn't realized they'd been out this long. Sophie seemed happily sedate, as if she'd spent the afternoon daring the heights of the jungle gym instead of plumbing her psychic depths. Still, a mental workout could be just as exhausting as physical exercise and the walk home seemed doubly long to Ray. He nearly fell asleep at the dinner table twice, prompting a lecture from Derrick about overtaxing himself and how Ray might prevent this sort of wanton self-abuse by watching competitive sports on television. Ray ignored him, the task all the easier for being more than half-asleep. Sophie had done good work today, and he collapsed into bed proud of her first small accomplishments.