Dreaming

Can you tell the difference between right and wrong?
It's common sense.
You didn't answer my question.
Yes, I did. I just answered you in a way you didn't expect.
That wasn't an answer, it was a definition. You’re being difficult, Michael.
What better way to answer a question than to rephrase summarize and...1

The walls are white. I'm in the White Room again, nowhere to run. He can get me here.2

A loud bang echoes though the room.
Huh?
Michael. Are you ok?
Yeah. It’s just that sometimes I feel like it’s all starting over.
Well, is the medication helping?
Yeah, but I feel so...sedated, so numb. I can’t hear the voice in my head anymore.
It’s what’s best for you. In time, with therapy, you’ll learn to adapt.
I hope you’re right, Doc.
So let’s go over it again.3

I’d tell my story a hundred times and still he would never believe me. But how could he? Heck, I hardly believe me. But what I say is true.4

After I finish telling him, he just says:5

I’m sorry, Mike, our time is up.6

And just like that, the doctor’s gone.
A nice man will come and take me to my room if I don’t do everything he asks, the way he asks, when he asks: he’ll prick my arm and I’ll wake up in a hug-me jacket in the White Room.7

He can get me here.
He can get me here.
He can get me here!8

As the door swings open, a figure draped in shadows emerges. All that can be seen is his smile--the kind of smile you would see on a clown: teeth white as pearls, but jagged and warped. I look away from the figure only to notice the shadows growing from it like tentacles, slowly creeping around on all sides, as if trying to engulf me in darkness, to pull me towards this creature. Its hideous laughter makes me nauseous. I yell as loudly as I can, screaming for help.9

Just in time the door swings open; the nurse heard me.10

Oh, poor baby, did the boogieman scare you again?
He was here.
Then why didn’t I see him? 11

Suddenly the shadows below her give way and bite into her--blood everywhere.
She screams for her life. No one hears her. And I can’t help; I’m too busy hugging myself. I watch as she drags her mangled body across the floor, begging for me to do something...12

No.13

Then why didn't I see him?
I don’t know.
Because he’s not real.14

I don’t think anyone can honestly say something is real or not. Who decides what reality is? I think it’s all a matter of opinion, Doc. Is reality defined only by tangible objects? Or can ideas be real as well, as real as the concrete here-and-now?15

Have you ever felt like you were in a dream from which you could not wake, where you could no longer decipher what was real and what was not?
All the time, honey.
Really?
No. It’s just the sedatives we give you, just like all the other patients.16

I’m still in the Room, Alone.
At least I have a window...
with a view of nothing but the parking lot.
If I sleep I can’t run...17


The annoying buzz of my alarm clock wakes me.
Just another nightmare.
I know I should see a doctor, but I’m afraid my dreams may be more than just dreams. I think there may be something really wrong with me...
No. Just being paranoid again, freaking out. Get a grip, Mike.
I glare at the alarm clock. Why did I set it for 4:27am? Am I just punishing myself?
Or am I actually planning for my nightmares?
I try to shake off this ominous feeling and go back to sleep, but it’s hopeless. I feel like I’ve been laying here for hours.
Sigh, get up, make some coffee. Black, as usual. Find a way to pass the time until work. Dead end job, desk piled high with papers the higher-ups just don’t want to deal with. A pencil-pusher, brown-nosing for scraps any self-respecting dog would turn its nose up at. How’d I get stuck here? And they had such high hopes...18

They?
Parents.
They always wanted more for me.19

Friends.
They wanted more for me...20

Lovers.
...so there’d be more for them.21

It’s almost noon now. I’ve been staring at the screen for hours. Counting seconds like a kid counting days before Christmas. 22