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While conducting the interviews with Carlos, he spoke of dreams and nightmares that seized his mind like some sort of warning. The slimy, tentacled creature was just the beginning.
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Days turned into weeks as Carlos labored inside the resort cleaning down the mold-covered walls and fixtures. Since the fungal outbreak, there had not been one single show of force by the evil spirits that wreaked havoc on him and Wilma, and it made Carlos wonder if somehow it was over.
But what about the voice he'd heard upstairs in the old Principal's Office? Was that just his imagination? He wasn't sure, but, as the days went by and nothing happened, he felt more at ease inside the place.
Buck had hired a local contractor to redo the front of the building, and, with the job completed, opening day was drawing near for the "Lone Star Honky-Tonk."
After a particularly hard day of work, Carlos curled up under his comforter and fell into a deep sleep. At 1:13 in the morning on August 23, he jerked up in bed and threw back the comforter. He slid his feet over the side and stared at the wall with a vacant look etched on his face. He felt a painful loneliness sitting beside him in the darkened room as he tried to digest what had just happened. He had just awakened from another nightmare, only much worse than the one about the slimy tentacled creature. A clammy, cold sweat covered his face as he dwelled on the dream:
He found himself trapped in the dimly lit corridors of the resort, chased relentlessly by a horde of vampires. Their faces were twisted into grotesque masks of hunger, their eyes aglow with a sinister light. As they drew closer, Carlos could see their elongated fangs glistening in the darkness, dripping with bloodlust. Their inhuman snarls and growls echoed off the walls, sending shivers down his spine.
Desperately, Carlos tried to escape, but the vampires seemed to be everywhere, herding him toward a sinister destination. Finally, he found himself cornered in the notorious Pit, the gaping quadrangle looming before him like the mouth of Hell itself. The vampires closed in, their fangs bared, ready to feast on his flesh. Carlos could feel his heart pounding in terror as he braced himself for the inevitable attack, knowing that there was nowhere left to run.....
"It's just another bad dream!" he tried to tell himself. "Just a stupid nightmare!"
He crawled back under the covers and tried desperately to fall asleep but to no avail.
Unable to rest, he finally climbed out of bed around 8:00 and got dressed. He slipped into a pair of filthy sneakers, ragged Levis, and a white T-shirt, then walked outside and climbed into his car, driving to a nearby restaurant. After consuming a pot of coffee, and almost convincing himself that the dream was nothing but a dream, Carlos paid his bill and headed for the resort, ready to begin another work day.
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