MirrorMirror

40 / The Intruder of Windows

Cassidy snatched his hand back from the wall.

He scrutinised his fingernails, feeling the barely controlled vomit rise gain. Where the fuck did blood and hair come from? How...? Wait... His nails were clean. Short, smoothly filed and even, as they should be. There was no blood. No straggly strands of hair.

Was his dream bleeding into his reality?

For a second, his hand wasn't his own. His body hadn't belonged to him, either. His mind had wavered, too. Never had a dream affected him so intensely. But... what was it? It was fading. No. Hold on to it. Don't let it go. It's important, for some reason. It...

The dream was gone.

Fuck!

The details of the dream were lost to Cassidy now. He could still recall the vile pleasure taken from whatever had occurred, but he couldn't remember why. He shut off the water and stood still, his eyes closed, listening to the dripping of the water from the shower head and his body. He concentrated on the tick, tick, tick, imagining it to be a metronome counting an irregular beat. It drew his focus and turned it inwards.

Feel the beat. Follow the beat. Be the beat.

The words were metaphysical nonsense, but he whispered them to himself, anyway. He'd done so since his early teens, when he originally discovered the sound of water could centre his thoughts and calm him, which later led to rainfall and thunderstorms helping him drift off to sleep.

Feel. Follow. Be.

FeelFollowBe

Amy. The dream had something to do with Amy. She'd been crying, and he'd enjoyed it.

Come on!

No, it was no good. He was trying too hard. The snippets refused to stay within his grasp, choosing to drift off behind the veil of consciousness he called his waking mind. Whatever it had been about, other than Amy, he needed to remember. It was imperative, though he had no way of knowing why. The only chance he had was to think about something else. Doing so almost always worked.

He used the technique to locate his lost keys. His phone. A shopping item he really needed, but was completely unable to recall. Hopefully, it would help him here.

In the meantime, he would go about his day. He'd do more in the house. Maybe take Bobby for a walk. Do some everyday living things. The mundane could be marvellous for filling the hours with random shit to steal the day from you. In the absence of Amy, Cassidy was happy to give the day away. It didn't need to be stolen.

He checked in on the mirror multiple times, but it remained clear. When night time came once again, he went to bed feeling forlorn. Where was she? How was she? The house felt empty without her spirit there. Laying in bed, he turned his back to the mirror. It wasn't an indignant sign of anger at being abandoned. It was to enable him to pretend the mirror didn't exist or, if it did, that it was completely unoccupied. Once again, Bobby took a position next to him and they both fell asleep with Cassidy's hand gently stroking the puppy's head.

This time, the dreams made sure they would not tread on the toes of cognisance. They'd give the mind something to work with, but it would stay intangible. It would leave no trace the next morning, when Cass awoke.

Except he didn't remain sleeping until morning.

For the first few hours, he remained mostly still, apart from a little restlessness around 1.30 am. There was nothing prompting the agitation and it failed to rouse him sufficiently to break his sleep. It wasn't until roughly 4 am that Bobby's growling nudged Cass enough to rouse him.