The Intrigue, part 2

I got in an empty car, an SUV, that was still running and floored it towards home. It wasn't far. I called my mom on the way. She answered and said if I didn’t have a reason to be there, I should go away. Why was she mad at me? I didn’t know. I saw Intrigue in the front yard and so I ran the car through the neighbor’s fence. I slammed the brakes to a stop right next to the fence of our backyard, jumped out, and hopped over just before my leg would have been grabbed. I fumbled with my keys, trying to unlock the back door. I got in just in time, slammed the door, and heard my mother in the garage. [Not my real mother, a woman made up in the dream.] I turned the corner, and she looked to be 110 years old, dead eyes staring at me in dark eye circles, pale, wide grin, little hair, and holding an axe. She wasn’t wearing the black hooded cape that the others were. She didn’t say anything and didn't move. She was just smiling. I ran upstairs and she tilted her head, watching me, without changing her expression. I locked myself in a bedroom.

The bed was next to the window. The closet on the left. A dresser on the right. I realized that I could be seen through the window. The blinds were up. And the car headlights were shining in. An Intrigue was wandering towards the car. He was very tall and skinny, bald, long fingers, wearing loose jeans and a shirt that was white with red sleeves, under his cape. His hood was off. I slowly crawled across the bed to reach the blinds. As I reached for the strings, the Intrigue snapped his head my direction. He had seen me. He bounded towards the house as I slammed the blinds shut, trying to think of my next move. Would he lose interest if he couldn’t see me? I saw his shadow through the blinds. He climbed up the roof and snarled as he leaped. The glass shattered. Doublepane windows. He didn’t get in. He slumped on the roof, shook his head, and crawled off back onto the lawn.

Suddenly the room was different. Instantly. There was a crib with a blanket over it. There were drapes and fabric hung everywhere with stars on them. Dark maroon and black fabric with gold and silver stars. A hooded figure sat near the door, bony hand holding a scythe. He raised his head to me. A skull. Unchangeable grin. Empty eye sockets. Bare bone skull. I didn’t feel threatened at all. But I wanted out of the room. I opened the door and my friend was there [nobody I actually know], a horrified look on his face as he looked down the hall. I looked too. An Intrigue, covered in blood, panting, partly bent over, a crazed expression. My friend looked at me, looked around the changed house, and said “I think we’re dealing with a magician.”

We heard movement in the bedroom and the Intrigue was doing nothing but panting so we looked back into the room. The blanket over the crib was moving. Slowly, up and down. The Intrigue in the hall charged and my friend tackled me into the room, kicking the door shut. The door was being clawed, attacked, and a tiny decaying hand was pushing up the blanket. Still laying on the floor, I glanced at the hooded figure in the room. He nodded to me.

Then I woke up.