Ashes to Ashes by Nathaniel Fincham Page B

used by the
subconscious and were important to understanding underlying urges
and impulses. Most dreams, Ashe believed, were merely remnants of
the day's thoughts and events. Unimportant. However, reoccurring
dreams could give clues to inner turmoil or troubles that the
subconscious was trying to solve. Keeping a dream journal could be
helpful to identifying and recording the clues.
    And it could be interesting at the same
time.
    For most of his life, Ashe had kept a dream
journal. And he had passed along the habit to his son at an early
age. As a young boy, Scott had suffered from minor night terrors,
which caused him to wake screaming in the middle of the night. The
feelings and visions of whatever was scaring him faded quickly,
leaving behind nothing but mist. Because of the quickness of the
fading, Ashe began to run into Scott's room at the sound of
screaming, with a notebook and pen, to try and record what his son
had been seeing and feeling.
    There had been a boy in Scott's class named
Malcolm who bullied him day in and out, and Scott had been afraid
of the boy, enough so that the fear crept into his dreams, scarring
him even in his sleep. Ashe was able to figure it out through the
broken emotions and visions of his son's fading nightmares.
    Scott had thought the dream journal
was...neat. And, possibly thinking that the space had the power of
magical concealment, he had always hid the journal underneath his
mattress.
    Holding the journal in his hands, Ashe wanted
to believe there was answers it. Just like with the night terrors,
the dream journal would provide him the broken pieces in which to
rebuild the whole puzzle. Getting inside of Scott’s psyche would be
an important step, even if it was only the initial step in a long,
treacherous hike.
    He had been in the apartment long enough,
Ashe realized.
    Turning to leave, he noticed one more thing
that stopped him cold. The bedroom door had been open and he had
missed it on the way in, but on the inside of the door were two
large sliding locks. They appeared to be thick, sturdy, and
expensive. And together they could possibly stop an angry bull from
charging into the room.
    Why? What or who was Scott trying to keep
out?
    Taking a long look at the locks, Ashe gripped
the journal firmly and left the bedroom and the apartment. He
paused in the hallway. The door to another apartment sat directly
across from Scott’s. For a few seconds he stared at the doorway.
Oscar had said the neighbor from across the hall had been the one
to call in the shooting. He put his body in front of the door and
decided to knock.
    Eventually, after knocking several times, a
tired looking, dark skinned young woman answered. She looked to be
around Scott’s age. She chose to keep the door’s chain latched,
providing a barrier between Ashe and herself, understandably
so.
    “I’m sorry to wake you, ma’am,” Ashe began,
“but I work for the Youngstown Police Department and I was
wondering if I could ask you some questions about what happened in
the apartment across the hall. I would only need a couple minutes
of your time. I know you probably have to rest up for class in the
morning. I apologize for the inconvenience.”
    “I’ve already talked to the police,” the
woman replied. “And you don’t look like a cop, either.”
    “I’m not a cop, I’m a consultant,” Ashe told
her. He suddenly wished that he still had his laminated badge. “I
was sent with some follow-up questions. I’m sorry that it had to be
late. But time is crucial. My I get your name, please?”
    “No you may not, consultant ,” the
young lady remarked. “And you can ask me all the follow-up
questions that you want…tomorrow…during the day. But bring a real
cop with you…if you want me to answer anything. Goodnight.” She
then aggressively slammed the door.
    Ash thought about knocking on other doors, to
try to find any witnesses to Scott’s bolt from the building, but
decided to go home instead. He was