Elyana snuggled deeper into the blanket of her own bed and closed her eyes, flicking away a small spider as she did so.

     The village of Tishmu, located along the southern bank of the Tapajos River, a tributary of the mighty Amazon, deep in the heart of central Brazil, has been all but forgotten by civilization. The white man has been there, of course, where hasn't he been? And an occasional missionary group will visit and leave scripted words of faith about a God that never quite gets around to actually visiting Tishmu. The people of Tishmu are simple, proud, and strong. They live off the land, and it has been good to them; providing everything from the basic clothing they wear to the hollowed-out logs they use for fishing the plentiful river.

     Paolo, his little sister Elyana and his widowed mother call Tishmu home. Tishmu is all they have ever known, all they have ever needed, but strangely, Paolo, even in his sickness, knows there is more. He doesn't know what more there might be or how he knows this, but he feels that the world is much larger than just this tiny spot on the banks of a dangerous river; much larger, much more exciting, and maybe even more dangerous than the river itself. Sometimes he dreams about these larger, more dangerous places. Perhaps this is how his illness began.

     And now, struggling with his weariness through another typical day and avoiding the taunts and tricks of the other village children, Paolo gladly seeks the refuge of his simple bed. A refuge fraught with threats of its own, for Paolo knows that as sleep approaches, so might the dream; the frightening nightmare that conjures the monster that is fighting to escape the prison of the earth in which it is now captive.

     But Paolo, weakened by this strange malady which conjures dark visions in his head, is powerless to control his dreams, or the beast that dwells within them. He struggles to keep his eyes open and his mind clear of that which haunts his slumber. He watches Elyana carefully as she quietly drifts off into a restless sleep of her own, hoping that she will never be confronted with horrors like that which his mind has unconsciously summoned. Paolo has no explanation for why he's plagued with this sickness or the nightmares it spawns. He doesn't know from where these images might have come, or why; only that the world holds much more than his dreams can imagine.

     Paolo is a good-hearted boy: he loves his mother and behaves her without question in all things, and he loves and protects his sister from the mischievousness of the other children who often play too hard for her still fragile six-year-old body. But now, ill as he is, his duties as "man-of-the-family" will not let him do his best to ensure that the garden flourishes and the fish are caught. And now more than ever, Paolo feels that his role in the village is too much for a nine-year-old. He sometimes struggles to hide this fact from the Elders, who might force his mother to take another man. Paolo will do his best not to let this happen. But he must break this fever and heal his troubled mind.

     Tears form in his tired eyes as his body tries to relax in preparation for elusive but inevitable sleep. Because of his headaches, it has been a very hard day in the small plot of land allowed his family by the Elders. Tomorrow he must be on the river again, trolling his nets and digging for crayfish, regardless of his health. His mother needs him. But today is done, and Paolo resists sleep, fearing the monster that so often lately invades his dreams. His last vision before losing to a fearful sleep is of his tiny sister cuddled peacefully on her mat in her corner of the room.

     Paolo sleeps fitfully as the creature screams in his dream.

     The earth erupts again. The forest on the far side of the river, deep in the jungle, releases the beast as the rainforest trembles. The head of the monster breaches the jungle floor: an enormous round head, a gaping maw, rows of razor-sharp teeth, and a gullet large enough to swallow a canoe. The worm, bigger than the white man's trucks and longer than a slip of the river, slithers from its earthen sheath and edges its way blindly towards the Tapajos. Animals scatter as the worm tramples trees and bushes, leaving in its wake crushed flora and slow wildlife. The goal of this mindless creature is not the swift waters of the Amazon's tributary but the thriving village beyond where it senses sustenance and fuel for its escape into the world at large.

     Paolo squirms uneasily, sweat dampens the straw beneath him, and he moans in distress as his dream vision enters a new phase: a confrontation is about to take place.

     The small hunting party has heard the crunching of foliage and the shrieks of jungle life as it flees the area. And then the hunters see the reason, and they too disperse, but discretely. They are brave men, strong and used to the dangers of the jungle. But they have never seen the likes of this monster; a brute for sure but slow in its peristaltic crawl towards the river. They hide in the thick bush and wait for the proper time to attack the beast. But the fiend is as adept as the hunters, and wily and quicker than its sluggish pace suggests. It swings quickly to its left, just as two spears puncture its rough hide, and ingests the spear throwers from their hiding place in the spongy underbrush. Also too slow are the remaining hunters as the worm rolls completely over them before they too could unloose their crude weapons; their screams drowned beneath the enormous worm.

     Their screams became Paolo's screams as the young dreamer awakens abruptly, dripping with sweat. His mother is at his side instantly, again smoothing his wet hair. Elyana's eyes are wide with fright for her older brother.

     But unknown to Paolo and his worried family, the worm has stopped. It has become docile and silent. Paolo knows but cannot understand that the worm is only active so long as Paolo sleeps, even erratically. It is as if the power of Paolo's nightmare is driving the worm, forcing it, directing it to the very village that is the source of its being.

     The fever rages behind Paolo's brow, but he's awake and clinging to the familiar strength of his mother. He tries to sit, tries to stop the trembling, to be strong, so mama will know that her son, her man, is still capable. He will not cry, but the image of the beast is too real, and he mumbles, "It is coming mama."

     This day the sickness is too great: Paolo senses that the great worm is closer, and he can do nothing about it. How can one warn others of a bad dream? And today, his mother has released Paolo from his duties: the garden where tiny worms give life to the soil and maybe to his dreams, the river, his daily chores, and the protection of his little sister from the village bullies. For today is worse, the headache is stronger, his bones are achy, and he struggles to stay awake in the heat of his illness so the beast will not continue its trek through the jungle towards unsuspecting Tishmu. And as loyal Elyana does her best to harvest the meager crop of vegetables from the small garden in his stead, Paolo fights to control thoughts of the worm that he knows are allowing the monster to live, breathe and search for the source of its fearsome strength: Paolo; whose tormented mind, wounded by this infection, feeds the beastly worm.

     Yet sick and exhausted, and in spite of his valiant resistance, Paolo succumbs to a fitful sleep.

     And as Paolo slumbers restlessly, the worm awakens. It resumes its quest, rolling over the remnants of the bodies of the hunters, brave hunters consumed by the worm as they tried to keep the monster from their village on the north shore of the Tapajos, a companion village across the river from Tishmu. But the worm moves on. And the jungle screams in its wake as the mammoth worm plows its way toward the river.

     The North Shore villagers hear it before they see it, but it's too late, the creature raises its massive maw and crashes its bulk down onto the small village as a huge foot might stomp a puddle: huts explode with the pressure, bodies fly as if shot from a sling only to be snapped up by the hungry worm. It coils and slithers, squashing the village to dust, and snatches blindly, guided by smell and instinct, at villagers as they flee the terror that has descended upon them. Too few escape and the village is destroyed. Now, the worm, sated, stretches to its full length and laps thirstily from the Tapajos like the insatiable animal it is.

     Paolo awakes, screaming.

     And the worm sleeps.

     The Tapajos is wide where Tishmu is situated on its southern bank, and the devastation that has occurred on its north shore is not yet known to the villagers of Tishmu as they carry on, ignorant of the ruin of their sister village. But Paolo is not unaware. He has seen, with his mind's eye, the destruction the worm has caused. He knows it's real. He knows it's not over. He knows it's coming.

     He must tell someone. The Elders, they'll know what to do.

     They don't. Nor do they believe the stricken young boy. A giant hungry worm? Foolishness! But the Elders do take sympathy with his illness. They tried again to alleviate his pain. They relieved his mother of her duties in the village so she could spend more time soothing her son. They even allowed the Shaman to attend to his fever as if Paolo was as important as any Elder. But they couldn't keep him from sleeping.

     The Shaman, a wizened old Elder of many years, learned in the healing arts and, so some say, of the magical arts, chanted and danced in the traditional manner to no avail. The smokes and the charms and the potions did nothing to diminish Paolo's condition. On the contrary, it exacerbated the fever. The Shaman's rhythmic movements, the medicinal tonics, and the hypnotic chants put Paolo into a deep trance-like sleep that only strengthened the power of the nightmare.

     And the worm awoke.

     It slithered towards the Tapajos, mindless of the devastation it had wreaked upon the tiny village along its shore. It hesitated briefly before entering the river as if to gauge the strength of the rapidly flowing waters, then inched its way into the chilly tributary. Now, fully submerged and hidden from sight by the unsuspecting fishermen on the surface, it scuttled along the rocky bottom like an eel hunting for dinner: stealthily, steadily, and with purpose.

     Paolo tossed and moaned, struggling with his nightmare. The Shaman could do nothing more, and Paolo's mother's caresses did little to comfort her feverish son. Elyana cowered in her corner, afraid for her brother. It seemed as though she too, was beginning to feel the horrid effects of his affliction.

     And the worm continued its hunt.

     Halfway across the fecund river, the worm raised its prodigious maw out of the water, to what, breathe? Orient itself? Survey its destination? No matter; the river split like the ground torn asunder and then crashed back into itself, causing white water, torrents, and a great spout that rained upon the river. And then the beast smashed its ugly maw back into the current, splashing waves that upended several small canoes, scattering fishermen to the power of the Tapajos. And the monster continued towards Tishmu.

     Several villagers had witnessed the beast in the river and had seen for themselves what violence it promised. The Elders were alerted. The warrior/hunters were gathered, older folk and children were hustled into the jungle away from the river's edge, and the able women chose whatever weapons they could handle and made to stand firm with the men.

     Except for the frothing current, the Tapajos had become quiet; the waters had stilled their fearful chaos, the screams of the village fishermen died with the sinking of their canoes. And the worm had vanished - for now.

     Tension mounted on the shore of the Tapajos. The villagers waited fearfully as they watched the familiar waters for the return of the beast that had chosen to disrupt their peaceful and contented lifestyle: Everyone ready to defend their village to the death.

     Paolo lay squirming on his pallet, twisting with rage. He could feel in his nightmare the horror the villagers were experiencing as they waited for the worm to surface, and he knew it would.

     Paolo's mother was torn: standing with the women, a crude garden hoe in her hands, she struggled with the thought of her responsibility to help defend her village, her home, and the people whom she loved and who loved her. And her son, sick in his bed, too ill to move. And Elyana, hopefully, unaware of the danger, now deep in the forest with older villagers, friends who would protect her to the end; if there would be an end.

     And the worm split the river again, just off shore. Its gruesome maw crashing down with such force that many of Tishmu's hunter/warriors were sprayed with the river's chilling waters. A cry went up from the villagers; they raised their crude weapons and advanced towards the river. And the worm inched towards the shore.

     Elyana, concerned for her brother, sick and helpless in his fragile bed, escaped from the arms of those who would keep her safe and ran back to the village, to their small hut, to Paolo. He was sweating profusely and moaning, twisting in his agony. Elyana was exhausted from her run. She was crying and feeling the illness herself, but fear for Paolo brought her home. She nearly collapsed at his side. Struggling not to pass out from exertion, fatigue, and a fever of her own, Elyana slumped on her brother's pallet and cuddled as closely as possible. She reached out and stroked Paolo's damp hair. She whispered soothing words into his ear, and then Elyana succumbed to a restive sleep.

     The beast inched forward, its enormous head on the rocky bank of the Tapajos, positioned to slither into Tishmu. The villagers stood their vigil, raised their arms, and let fly their weapons with all the strength they could command. Then the villagers on the riverbank, warriors, hunters, men, and able women, all charged the beast displaying all the collective vigor they could summon in an attempt to drive it back from where it came.

     And Paolo came awake, free of his pain: free of his sickness, free of the fever, free of all distress. And free of the nightmare.

     And the worm vanished. The villagers gasped in shock and surprise: the worm simply disappeared back into the depths of the Tapajos before their startled eyes.

     And Paolo saw his little sister asleep at his side, shivering as if cold, but his hand on her forehead revealed a damp heat that should not be there. And she was muttering in her dreams. So Paolo comforted Elyana as best he could, left the pallet quietly, covered her with his frayed blanket, and walked out of the hut, wondering where everybody was.

     And Elyana dreamed a frightful vision of a fissure in the jungle from which a gigantic black spider emerged.