“You say that you cannot sleep?”
“No doc, I told you. I sleep just fine. It’s that when I sleep I dream of being asleep.” The girl in the large leather sofa closed her eyes tight “It’s endless. I sleep, then she sleeps and the me in her falls a asleep. Like an infinity mirror. Then it stops and I wake up. Exhausted”
She could hear the scribbles of notes being recored. Her therapist, who she called doc, half lidded eyed his page of notes.
“How can I be so exhausted when I am falling asleep so much “ she let out a small nervous laugh.
“How do you know which one of you is the one awake right now?” doc asked still studying his notes. It was more a thought then a question to her. Doc approached his sessions like a scientist. Actively trying to figure it out.
The clock on the wall ticked away, but they both sat pondering.
“Wait are you saying I might still be asleep?” she finally said sitting up on the sofa.
Doc shrugged and set down the note pad on the small table to his right “Maybe, could it be that the last ‘you’ woke up and the others before are still asleep? The original you is still asleep and then there are multiple of you between ‘you’ and you?” Doc pursed his lips “That means I’m not real either. I’m dream me” he nodded slowly to himself then swiped his note book back up and started to furiously write.
She let out a sigh and fell back onto the couch with a plop. What was the last thing she remembered doing? How did she get here? When did she wake up?
The last thought. No alarm, no sunrise, no mom calling up to her. She woke up exhausted though? Didn’t she?
“Doc…” she turned to him, but the seat was empty. A torrent of terror jerked her up and into the middle of the room. “Doc” she called again. She looked around the office. It looked as it always had, but something was missing. It felt off. She then walked to leave.
There was no door.
Replaced in it’s spot was a painting of her in bed. Awake. Wide eyed staring at her ceiling. Staring at her.
When their eyes met each other the office melted with slow syrup motion. The colors blotted together and forms seemed to mix with thick consistency. The only object in the room to not melt was the painting. Which still stared at her. She could not tear her vision from it.
Caught in a trance she walk towards it. Her feet slugged through the floor as got closer. She reached her hands out and they went into the painting as if it was a window. She felt the other room pull and grip her hand with ungodly force.
Her arms pulled deeper into the painting. Their colors and skin melding together like the room. Stretching, straining, melting towards her self. She screamed.
Her painting screamed still wide eyed.
The force was to strong. She melted through the frame into her other self. She fell straight into her own screaming face. Then again and again and again. As if each rendition of her sleeping figure was now waking up.
She jolted up from her bed with a scream. Her eyes pointed towards the white plaster ceiling.
For a moment she sat staring, trying to catch her breath. Then she pressed her face into her palms.
A knock came at her door.
“I’m okay, I just had a bad dream” she tried to reassure her parents.
A different voice came from behind the door.
“Did you find out if you were still asleep” Doc’s muffled voice came as an answer.
She got up from her bed and as her feet put pressure on the floor she fell.
and kept falling.
-
Dreams are an odd one. I am sure that I will be writing a lot more about dreams. I have very vivid dreams. I remember them and sometimes I feel as if they are more real then my actual life. I have places I come back to in my dreams. They all have such vivid sights and emotions.
I should interpret them, but I have yet to do that. Pay attention to your dreams though. They are very important.