By way of introduction:
Our town is probably more interesting than the average small northern Texas town. We number around 150, with the number fluctuating slightly daily thanks to the Shooting Star Motel, situated right on highway 60. The only lodging within 50 miles, it’s giant neon sign draws travelers off the dark stretch of highway between Lubbock and Sante Fe.
The interesting thing about our town is that we’ve been sharing a dream for the past 20 years. When I say sharing a dream I don’t mean it in the sense that we’re working toward some goal of a better place, a better country, a better life. I mean, quite simply, that when our town falls asleep at night, we all go to the same place. We walk down streets in a different town (which is always the same), swing in porch swings in the late afternoon glow. Fall in love with our partners all over again, dress smartly and dance in the big barn out by the river.
Our town has had this queer ability for more than 20 years, but it was 20 years ago that people actually got around to talking about it, and setting up some waking-time organization so we’d all enjoy the sleeping-time more. Further back than 20 years, things were a bit random, with different locales being shared every night. Some were idyllic, and some (quite literally) nightmarish. It took a while before we realized that the first person to fall asleep chose the setting. It took a little longer for us to realize that the dream lasted only until the last person woke up.
The town elders at the time decided that for the sanity of the town (some of the nightmares were really terrible, thanks to a few children and their overactive imaginations), we should pick a relatively stable, peaceful place in which to spend our 8 to 10 hours a night. They would hold meetings in the dream and once they found a dream they thought would work, they set in motion the system that we hold to to this day.
In order for the dream to persist, at least one person in town has to be asleep at every moment. 20 years ago, in probably a more self destructive phase, I volunteered to be one of those that had a schedule roughly opposite that of the rest of the town. There were 10 of us that volunteered. We all work at the motel at night, cleaning the pool and the grounds, manning the desk, doing laundry. We go home at different times during the early morning hours, from about 4:30am until 8am, to fall asleep and do our real job.
It’s strange to only really see the sun in your dreams. We don’t seem to suffer from seasonal affectation disorder, as we still get 8 to 10 hours of sunlight a day. It was also somewhat strange in the beginning to have such a beautiful, perfect town to yourself every night. At most during our shift there are 10 people asleep, and usually fewer. Now I can’t imagine the experience the rest of the town has - it’s amazing how claustrophobic the idea of 150 people is to me.
Now that you’re up to speed:
Something strange has been happening in our dream. Children have been waking up in the middle of the night screaming, something that hasn’t happened in 20 years. Adults have reported having the feeling they’re being followed by some evil force while in our dream. People wake in the morning groggy and wanting more rest. Sleep schedules are becoming erratic, with the number of people in the dream sometimes approaching 20 during our shift.
Travelers used to exclaim to the motel manager that the previous night’s sleep was the best they’d ever had. This happened so often it was chosen as the motel’s slogan, placed permanently on the message board beneath the neon star: “The Best Sleep You’ve Ever Had”. Lately, though, they haven’t been saying it. Now it’s rare to have one check out by coming into the office to return the key in person. Now they can’t wait to leave.
The normal townsfolk and travelers aren’t the only ones experiencing disturbances. My people have been complaining as well. One, Jody Barnes, has requested that she be allowed to reintegrate with the rest of the town. This 3 days after she went AWOL, popping nodoz and refusing to go to sleep. She won’t tell anyone what she saw, but it’s obvious something really has her spooked.
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