“In Dreams” a Halloween Serialized story by nat weaver, Parts III and IV
We’re back for the next installment of this October’s Halloween serial! In case you haven’t caught up on the first two chapters, here is a link to those: Parts I and II.
Before we dive in, I just wanna drop a little vague happy writing news. I can’t say much other than that some really, super exciting stuff is in the works for you all by way of this newsletter, and something or some-things I’ve written. I don’t want to sound over the top, but it’s literally a dream come true for me, and I want to keep that energy high for it. Good vibes! — and when I have the go-ahead, I’ll let you all in the loop. Ya’ll, it’s gonna be awesome!
But alas, that’s not what this particular newsletter edition is about… this is all about what the hell is even happening in this story about nightmares and such? So without further ado, here is the next installment of “In Dreams.” Happy reading. 📚
And see you in the comments or the chat…
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Copyright © 2026 by Nat Weaver.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted by Artificial Intelligence (AI) or used in the training of AI, for either commercial or non-commercial purposes. For permission requests, write to the author, with subject “In Dreams” at the following email address: nat@weaver.wtf.
In Dreams
a short story by nat weaver
III. Friends
Markus was staring at her with a bewildered look, he said something but it was muffled. She shook her head to indicate she missed it and he repeated himself louder, his words breaking through the haze.
“I said,” he overemphasized, “are you ok?”
“Jesus,” Circe said and shook her head and arms to wake up. “I think I dozed off while waiting for you to answer the door.”
He took her by a bicep and guided her through his apartment door, giving a disapproving look to a Gen Z kid down the hall puffing on a vape.
The kid scowled, “Bite me, boomer.”
“I’m not a boomer,” Markus yelled at him. “I’m 35!”
“Then act like it,” the kid fired back but Markus had already closed the door.
Circe had initially met Markus at Zeus Tech when they were both wide-eyed new hires. He wanted to change the world through medicine and was working with their HR to help develop a competitive health insurance package, and she was coding the backend to an employee patient portal. Markus managed to quit before it was revealed the software they had built had been used to harvest user data. It all came out when an intrepid female reporter exposed that Zeus Tech had handed over patient data on an employee to a Texas Attorney General who suspected her of an abortion before moving out of state. Circe had only known the employee briefly before she just disappeared without a trace until the news story broke. It turned out she had been extradited to Texas based on the data Zeus Tech had handed over. The former employee was serving a life sentence in Texas by the time Circe learned of it. And that woman was just one of several former employees that Zeus Tech had handed over to authorities based on patient data, the vast majority of which were women and Black.
After the news broke, Circe dropped the company insurance plan, and texted her former colleague. Markus had agreed to help her any way he could, but he was too expensive for her. He took clients strictly out of network and through an ungodly subscription plan. Only rich people could afford him and it showed based on the extravagance he lived in. His apartment had six bedrooms, three living spaces, a library, home office where he conducted his Zoom calls with patients, kitchen the size of her one-bedroom apartment, and a pool outside on his balcony overlooking the city. He lived alone and claimed he needed it to keep up appearances, otherwise his rich CEO patients would go elsewhere.
“I was making some soup and grilled cheese,” he said as he let go of her arm and rushed to the stove to stir the tomato soup. “You want some?”
Based on his cooking, she partially believed that it was all for show. He often had to throw Christmas client dinners and other silly parties, where he’d hire cooks and staff to cater his rich clientele. He had invited her a few times, but she refused to rub elbows with rich CEOs.
“Sure, but I’m not that hungry,” she lied. She hadn’t eaten since Tom’s Diner the previous night.
Over dinner at the wildly long dining room table, she recounted how she saw Kassandra from her dream in the real world. Markus listened attentively with furrowed brows. His blonde, thick eyebrows were all business when listening to a patient though she was more friend than patient. Occasionally, he would pause to stroke his mustache or goatee which was starting to show some grey.
His spoon clanked as he let it drop into his empty bowl, and it spun around a bit. “Are you still taking the Gabapentin at night?”
“Yes.”
He played with a corner of his mustache. “Well, let’s just get the obvious out of the way: this woman from your nightmare isn’t some dream person who has transcended into the real world. There is a logical explanation as to you seeing her outside of the nightmare.”
“Like what?” Circe asked. “I know I’ve never seen this woman before.”
“Do you?” Markus asked rhetorically. “It’s impossible for us to remember every person, place, or happenstance we’ve ever encountered during our lifetime. It’s possible you met her or saw her in passing once a long time ago, and your brain buried the visual of her deep inside your subconscious because she didn’t matter. Your brain wouldn’t want to take up precious memory space on someone trivial.” He took a sip of his wine, drink was his extravagance. “And so, perhaps, when you first had this nightmare, you needed someone to fulfill that part of the dream and your brain said, ‘here, try this one,’ and plucked that random woman from some random moment in time that meant nothing. She was no one. She is no one to you.”
Circe sat with that idea for a while and he let her have the moment, the only sound in the oversized apartment was his Echo Dot playing a song by the band America. Everything he had said made sense, for sure, and the alternative she was thinking of was unpleasant to ponder. She sheepishly asked, “You think that’s it?”
“Perhaps…” he said wide-eyed and nodding gently. “But also, perhaps, it could be a hallucination.” He raised his palms to calm her but she hadn’t had a chance to rile up yet. “And I know, I know that’s not fun to think about. But your sleep has been — we’ll say, less than ideal — for a long, long time. You’re tired, Circe,” he spoke solemnly and with a warm tone as he leaned over his table. “It wouldn’t be unheard of for someone suffering from a lack of good sleep to see things or people who aren’t actually there.”
“I don’t think it was a hallucination.”
“Ok,” he nodded. “But let’s just think for a moment about the facts. Did you see her talk to anyone? Did you see anyone acknowledge her? Did you see her touch anything or move anything? You say, she was staring at you from the train, but you never heard her speak or interact with anyone or anything really, correct?”
He was right, she hadn’t seen Kassandra interact with the world around them. Perhaps she had just glided in and out of her field of view.
Shit… am I really hallucinating now?
Markus stood up and gathered his dishes, as he made his way to the sink, he tried to put her at ease. “I tell you what, I don’t like to jump to conclusions in any direction. Why don’t I up the dosage on your Gabapentin, maybe that’ll help you sleep a little better and curb that anxiety? It also might not be working as effectively for you anymore. Either way, let’s try that and see if your mystery woman reappears.” He rinsed the bowl and finished his wine but promptly refilled his glass. “And here’s the thing,” his eyebrows darted up excitedly, “even if this woman is real, what are the odds of you crossing paths with her again in this city? I mean, really? So whatever the case, I think, you’re well rid of her. And good riddance.” He sipped his wine.
She had one more glass of wine herself, hoping the extra dose of alcohol would help her sleep soundly. He gave her a month’s worth of Gabapentin at a slightly higher dosage. This was his true gift to her, sliding her medication through free samples that he would hoard. He never took her money, not even once. He was a good friend, probably the best she had. She didn’t know what she would do if she ever lost those free samples from him and the counseling he offered her for nothing in return.
At home, she shook off the rain, her clothes, and took the new dose. She climbed into bed feeling better about the whole situation. She even felt content and ready for sleep, but perhaps — perhaps! — it was the full stomach and alcohol talking.
IV. Things Impossible
Motherfucker!
Her brain was finally catching up to her in the nightmare. She and Kassandra had been darting in and out of rooms for what felt like hours; up and down stairs, hiding, running, breathing heavy, holding breath. Leviathan would not stop, he would not let up.
“I WANT YOU. I NEED YOU. COME TO ME, IT IS USELESS TO RESIST. IT IS USELESS TO RUN. I WILL GET YOU.”
Kassandra took ahold of her hands and held them tight, gasping for air. “I know this is hard. But you need to think. You need to remember. Let’s try to take a moment to gather our thoughts and think. Remember. We can run when he gets closer, but for now, focus.”
Leviathan peered around a corner in the basement where they were hiding amongst cages of stored university items. Old computers, keyboards, desks, chairs, nondescript boxes, a fucking lamp? He stood up tall, stretching his back in the basement with a high ceiling. He tore open a cage and clawed at the boxes and office furniture, she watched in horror as his misty claws destroyed a chair and broke a metal desk in half.
“YOU ARE PATHETIC. WEAK. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE. YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME. ALL THERE IS FOR YOU IS TO GIVE YOURSELF TO ME. ADMIT I AM STRONGER THAN YOU. ADMIT YOU CANNOT BEAT ME. KNEEL AND BEG, WEAKLING.”
A woman in tactical gear appeared from behind a file cabinet with a sword and swiped at his arm, the blade cut through it like fog which quickly reformed. Leviathan growled at the woman, biting at her head and tearing it clean off from the base of her spine. The woman’s body stumbled about headless for a moment before dropping the sword and collapsing. Her blood sprayed about the basement, aimless, searching for veins.
“PATHETIC.” He fell to all fours and sprung about like an animal searching for its next prey. “SO. GOD. DAMN. WEAK.”
Circe was breathing harder than she ever had before, her chest was aflame from overworking. She stared at the woman so effortlessly ruined by Leviathan.
So much blood, my god.
“Focus, please,” Kassandra begged, a small tear escaped her tired eyes.
“This isn’t real.” Circe finally remembered. “This isn’t really happening.”
“Please, no, don’t!” Kassandra whisper-yelled to her.
“It isn’t real.” Circe nodded to herself and took her hands away from Kassandra. “I am going to clap my hands and wake up. I will be safe and sound, in my room, in my bed. Because this…” she looked directly into Kassandra’s hurt eyes, “this is not real.”
Circe clapped.
When she woke, Circe was laying on the floor half tangled with her blanket, naked and sweating. She angrily kicked herself lose from the blanket and ran to the bathroom, falling over slightly at the door, her legs still not fully back in the land of the waking. She turned on the light, grabbed the Gabapentin pills, and tossed them into the bathtub with a clinched-teeth scream.
Fuck this shit! Fuckity fuck fucker fucking balls sack fuck face dickweasle!
She turned on the sink and threw cold water on her face, rubbed it through her pixie-cut hair, splashed it across her breasts and stomach. Her nipples standing at attention along with the goosebumps from the cold let her know she was awake. Really, really awake.
Fuck me.
It was only midnight when she entered Tom’s Diner. He shook his head in sympathy and she asked for a coffee and Diet Coke. She would be sipping caffeine until she went to work in the morning. An upbeat track by Shalamar dropped into the jukebox and started to play.
Tom put the drinks on her table, “You wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Circe said and turned to him with am expression he’d never seen before. “I wanna kill it.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” She said and took a sip of her coffee, followed by a sip of her Diet Coke. “Keep ‘em coming, Tom, it’s gonna be a long night.”
A few hours later, with a myriad of wet rings on her table, her eyes feeling heavy and her coffee and Diet Coke only half empty, she saw a white woman in a black suit with short, silver hair enter. The woman looked sophisticated, dignified, and maybe in her fifties or sixties. The woman stood by the door while slowly panning the restaurant until she made eye contact with Circe, one of her black eyebrows rose when she saw her. She looked behind herself and nodded to someone just outside.
The door opened and rain came through along with Kassandra and that damned jacket.
OH, fuck me.
The woman approached Circe’s table with Kassandra trailing behind her, eyes locked at her feet. “What do you call yourself these days?” The woman asked her.
Circe wanted to speak but then remembered Markus’s advice that this may only exist in her head. She looked to Tom who was already on his way to her. He approached with a towel over his shoulder and two menus in hand.
“Can I get you ladies something to drink?” Tom asked them.
They were real. They were actually standing in front of her. Kassandra was real. “This is impossible,” Circe blurted out.
“You’re impossible!” Kassandra spat back at her without raising her eyes.
Tom looked confused.
The older woman turned to Tom, “We do not need anything, thank you.” She turned to Circe. “We are just here to speak to an old friend.”
Tom checked in with Circe using a knowing look, she waved him away with a gentle nod.
The woman sat at the table. “It’s been a long time, yeah? Do you remember who I am?”
Kassandra remained standing.
“I don’t know you,” Circe said.
The woman nodded sympathetically. “Then that’s where we’ll start. I’m Athena. You and I actually go way back, but it has been quite some time since we’ve seen each other or spoken to one another,” she took a moment to gather her thoughts. “What name do you go by presently?”
“My name is Circe.”
“OK, Circe,” Athena smiled gently. “It’s nice to meet you again for the first time.” She took a deep breath and looked back to Kassandra who was still staring at her feet. Athena shifted back to Circe. “What I’m about to say to you is going to be a difficult pill to swallow, and for that, I’m truly sorry.” She sighed deeply. “That nightmare you’ve been having isn’t a nightmare. It’s real. We’re real. In fact, the version of you in that nightmare is very real. More real than you know or can imagine.”
Jesus Christ. I know what the hell this is.
Circe leaned on her table with her elbows and took an imposing stance. “Look, Athena, I don’t know who the hell you are or who the fuck sent you, or how the hell you know what I dream at night, but I have some pretty good fucking ideas. And I will sue the shit out of you,” she looked to Kassandra, “and anyone else who has been poking around in my patient charts.” She made eye contact with Athena. “Go to hell, and get the fuck out of my life, and out of my damn head. I’m too tired for this bullshit. So whatever you think you have on me, you have nothing. You are nothing.”
Kassandra turned slowly and walked out of the diner, Athena watched over her shoulder as Kassandra departed without a word.
“And what the hell is her story?” Circe asked.
“Love,” Athena said, “and pain.”
