Chapter 7: "Go to sleep and . . . good night'. . ."

A/N: Ok. You have to bear with me on this. You MUST READ THIS CHAPTER UNTIL THE VERY END!!!!!!!! There, everything will be explained.

Ok, I've been getting some negitive feedback on how this story is anti-climactic on here and on psychfic. And I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not finished with this story yet, and there will be more to come. I've had this whole thing planned out from the beginning. I know what I'm doing, and this story has been taking many twists and turns and this is simply one of them, it's just (in Cale's words,) "the tip of the iceburg." So PLEASE be patient and wait for the next chapter.

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"Here comes the Sandman, stepping so lightly . . ."

Shawn's eyes snapped open.

His sheet's were saturated with his sweat and his blankets were on the floor, sending his body into cold shivers. He slowly looked around the room, and yes, he was in his apartment. No warehouse, no surgical table, no other people.

"It was just a dream." he thought to himself, "It was just a dream. But it was so real. I could feel the pain, I was being tortured, he-he kidnapped me." He placed a hand to his chest and attempted to calm the rapid beating of his heart. He took a few slow deep breaths and sat up, "Shawn, you've been working to hard on this case." he muttered to himself. He set his feet on the cold hardwood floor and went into his bathroom to rinse off his clammy face

"Stealing on the tips of his toes; . . ."

He waited for a minute for the sink water to get warm, then filled his hands and splashed the water on his on his face. He filled his hands again and this time gently rubbed the clear liquid on his skin. Once he was finished he groped about, his eyes firmly shut, until he finally reached his hand towel with which he scrubbed at his face.

When he was done, he went back into his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He picked up his cell-phone and dialed his dad's speed-dial number.

"Shawn, this better be good at 2:37 in the morning."

"Nice to talk to you too dad. I just had a really weird dream."

"Get me later on, good-bye Shawn."

"No, dad! Don't hang up! It's about a murder-case I'm working on! Ya know, the one's that have been happening a lot lately?"

"Yea, I know which ones, Shawn. OK! What was the dream about?"

Shawn then relayed his whole dream to his father.

"Well, what do you think this dream means Shawn?"

"I don't . . ." Shawn began, but he paused

"Oh! hear the Sandman singing so softly; . . ."

"Shawn, what's going on?"

"Shh! Hold o . . ." before Shawn could finish, Henry heard a muffled grunt, coming from the other line.

"See the children starting to doze . . ."

"Shawn? Shawn?! What happened?!" Henry shouted over the other line, but only to hear the sound of struggling and grunting. Henry gave up, snatched up his cell, threw on some jeans, and drove over as fast as he could to Shawn's place.

"Hear the Sandman singing so softly,

Shawn saw the figure, but it was too late. A strong hand holding an odorous cloth was clamped over his mouth, while the man's other hand wrapped tightly around Shawn's waist. Shawn tried his best not to breath in the chloroform as he struggled to get free from the stranger's grasp. He then felt himself being dragged across his bed and landed with a hard thud on the floor.

"Shh . . ." the male intruder's voice said, "go to sleep . . . the Sandman's here."

Then, it struck Shawn like a bolt of lightning, "I know that voice . . . that sickly sweet voice. This is how it started in my dream . . . this is how the Sandman took me." He thought, and with one final attempt, Shawn managed to raise his arm, and slam his elbow into the Sandman's rib-cage.

"No face off! No face off!" Shawn thought wildly.

The man immediately released Shawn with a grunt of pain, and slightly staggered backwards, giving Shawn a chance to awkwardly flee the bedroom.

'Go to sleep my children, close your sleepy eyes . . ."

Shawn half-ran, half-stumbled out of his room, coughing and sucking in deep gulps of fresh air and trying to shake off the affects of the chloroform.

He ran into the kitchen and pulled a large, heavy, cast-iron frying pan from on top of his stove. Just as Shawn did this, the Sandman had recovered and was quickly approaching Shawn with a long bladed knife.

The knife was raised and just before it plunged into Shawn's flesh, three things happened at once.

Shawn swung the pan.

It hit the Sandman's head with a clang and a crack.

The long sharp blade pierced Shawn's shoulder. He let out a scream of pain and collapsed on his kitchen floor.

The minutes passed like hours until Henry finally burst through Shawn's apartment door. "Shawn?" Henry called

Shawn was still semi-conscious when he heard his father's voice, "D-dad!" his weak voice called back. His dad heard the call from the kitchen and rushed over to his son's aid.

Henry saw the intruder lying in a pool of blood that was oozing from his cracked scull, but that wasn't the sight that made his stomach churn. It was the sight of his son, slumped against the stove with a knife protruding from his left shoulder and blood oozing down the front of Shawn's shirt. Henry stepped over the Sandman and knelt by Shawn, carefully taking Shawn's body and lying it against his own.

Shawn gave a gasp of pain at being moved. "Hey, Shawn. It's ok. Relax, I'm gonna get an ambulance. You're gonna be alright."

"Dad . . . the–man . . ." Shawn said between pained breaths

"You hit him with a cast-iron pan Shawn, his scull is cracked and I don't even know if he's alive. You're alright, you . . . you did good son. You did good." Henry said

Shawn then fell into unconsciousness with his father's words still ringing in his ears, "You did good, son. You did good."

"Go to sleep my children, Go to sleep and . . . good night'. . ."

TBC . . .

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A/N: Ok, for those of you who were REALLY confused by this chapter, here is a synopsis:

1. Chapter's 1-6 was a dream Shawn had

2. But, it turns out that the Sandman WAS real, and it was th real Sandman case that caused Shawn to have the dreams.

3. Did Shawn have a real Psychic vision? We'll all have to wait and see . . . in the next chappie!!!

Demented and crazy aren't I? Hehe . . . gulps then flees to hide and rock back and forth in a fetal position and wait for my insanity to really crack and take flight . . . oh wait, it's a little late for that last part huh?