Once there was a sleepy man called Timmy, and he was always digging deep into sleep. Sometimes he endured hardships of various art, but then he just went to sleep and dreamt. The dreams cleared his mind so that he didn't care too much about all the hardships in his life. However, one day his daughter asked him a question: "Why do you always lose your job, Daddy. Your clothes get ruined and someone steals your money, but why does these things always happen to you?" That question he couldn't dream away, he thought it over and then he said: "I don't know, but everyone meets hardships in their life. It doesn't matter. It stops again."
His daughter looked at him with an eight year old girl's scepticism. "Hmmm," she said. "I don't like that, I want to have fun always ..."
He tried to convince her that although some bad things might happen to some people, it didn't matter that much when one had the right attitude. No matter what, he couldn't get through to her so he was sad that night when he went to sleep. Perhaps that's why he had an awful nightmare. Some shadowy creatures came to him as he lay there in his nice, cosy bed. They poked at him and one said, full of contempt: "So you endure everything, and don't fear us?"
"Fear you?" he exclaimed, very surprised.
"Yes, you idiot, didn't you know that your bad luck came from somewhere?"
He was shaken to the core of his being. "Some people do encounter bad luck, but there is nothing one can do about it ..."
"Hehehe," the creature went on in a horse and contemptful voice. "No, if one doesn't do anything then there is nothing to be done."
He was stopped by another of the black shadowy things, waving a long and very thin arm at him. "All right, the contemptuous one said, "dream your dreams and enjoy your misery to your heart's delight."
"Nice meeting you," another one said with a grin that bared pointed, white teeth. "Very nice indeed, you are so special compared to what we are used to ..."
"But what is all this, am I hexed or what happens?" No answer, but the shadowy ones dissolved with a crackling laughter and he woke up, utterly uncomfortable. However, after a couple of hours tossing on his bed he fell asleep once again and this time he had another kind of dream. He saw one of the shadowy ones come running against him, spear in hand and before he could do anything about it he pierced his chest, right through the heart. Once more he woke up, feeling miserable, almost expecting to find marks after the spear. "What is going on?" he asked in a loud voice into the darkness of his bedroom.
"Nothing," a voice rung out from the darkness and he nearly tumbled down from his bed with fright at this unexpected answer. "Nothing at all, so you better just sleep on."
He sat up in his bed, ready to jump out of it, and then he turned on the light with trembling fingers. There was nothing to be seen, but the voice from before still sounded out in the room. "We are very sorry that our younger soldiers came to disclose their presence. The clients are not supposed to know about us."
"The clients!" he exclaimed, that sure is a mistake, I'm no client. I'm a private investigator and I have clients ...."
"You sure do," the voice said. "One of them remembers you uncommonly well. He may never forget you."
"And who may that be?"
"Alfie Johnson, the man whose daughter disappeared and he committed suicide over this tragic loss ..."
"Oh yes," he said, "I remember that case. And she never came back?"
"We know where she is, but you were supposed to find her, instead you did a lot of other things that amused you more than that."
"And is that why I have all this bad luck? I don't believe in bad luck, only that some events are less than good."
"Some people are vengeful, you're not, you want to forgive everything even before it happens. But Alfie ... well, suffice it to say that he doesn't forget that he has lost his daughter and also his life because of you."
"Am I to believe that Alfie Johnson has harmed me, that he is behind all of this?" He couldn't help laughing out loud at the thought, but that made the voice turn harsher as it said: "Poor Timmy, Alfie Johnson is with you all the time, no matter what, he is always close by."
Timmy laughed once more: "What!" he exclaimed, "Where are you? I can't see you, this is just a dream and I'm talking to myself."
"So this is another one of your dreams, nothing real ever happens to you, does it?" it sounded from somewhere else in the room.
Suddenly the door opened and his daughter came in. "Daddy, why are you shouting like that, it's the night, you should sleep." He left the bed and followed her into her room, tucked her in her bed, adding some consolatory words. "Don't be afraid, Daddy is just having some bad dreams ..."
She looked at him with love, but also scepticism, the very picture of her late mother, only she didn't seem convinced.
"A nice daughter you have," the voice said when he returned into his bedroom. "Very sweet, resembles Alfie's little Isabel when she was her age."
"Back off!" he yelled, suddenly alarmed, "just you dare and I shall rip you apart."
"Hehehehe," it sounded from the darkness, "and how will you go about that when you can't even see us?" He laughed out once more and then there was quiet.
Timmy called out for the one who had shouted at him, but got no answer. Then he went to bed and at once started to dream again. This time the shadowy ones were standing very close by his bed, he could see them, but they were totally silent, until a sugary voice asked: "What is the name of your pretty daughter?"
The question seemed so sinister to him that he felt some awful chills running up and down his spine.
"Yes, what's her name?" asked another one and soon all of them asked the same question: "The name? The name?" Timmy felt how this question went deep down his heart, and he simply fainted from fright.
However, when he came to some time after, he saw the sunlight and felt a deep relief. Oh, thank God, that too was only a dream, he thought. All of it dreams, not Alfie, no shadows or spears. No questions ...
Exactly at the same moment when this thought passed through his head his daughter once more stood by his bed, looking at him with a worried look. "Are you sick, Daddy?" she asked.
"No, dear, Daddy only had several nightmares ..." he answered.
She looked at him in astonishment. "But you didn't sleep," she said, "you were busy walking around and moving things ..."
"What?!" he exclaimed in amazement. "No, I slept and had many bad dreams about things that don't exist."
"You pulled down the curtains and you ruined some plates in the kitchen ..."
"No, no, I slept most of the night although I had nightmares."
Her look made him get out of bed and he followed her, convinced that this must be a mistake. However, when he opened the door into the kitchen he found havoc. "What, is this?" he exclaimed, utterly amazed.
"You did it," the little girl said, "you also pulled down the curtains and ripped them."
"No! I slept, I dreamt ... It wasn't real ..." - ""It wasn't real"" resounded and he suddenly remembered the shadowy one's remark: "So this is another one of your dreams, nothing real ever happens to you, does it?"
She didn't say anything, only looked at him, onviously very worried. "The only time I was up was when I tucked you in after you came to see me ..."
"What? No, you didn't do that," his daughter said, "the man did ..."
"The man??!"
"Yes, your friend Alfie ... He said you were asleep although you were not. A very nice man, asked my name and patted my head ..."
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