Black Spot

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"Close your eyes. Calm yourself, and dream." The voice over the phone calmly let out.

Harrison, 26. Struggling with schizophrenia listened closely. This is his daily mantra to go to his happy place.

He laid flat on his bed. His hands pressed on his chest. Compression socks on his feet. He closes his eyes as his room progressively melted away into a white space.

He is now laid asleep on the ground in a white space. Nothing in sight. It's white everywhere. He stands and walks around.

He is calm now. Its quiet here, Harrison likes a quiet space. He walks horizontally, apparently this place has its own laws of physics.

The entire place vibrates in an quacke like manner. He falls and hits the ground. He stands upright now in his room wondering what just  happened.

He is back in his room and on the door a tall man in a brown overcoat wearing sunglasses almost like the Matrix is standing there looking at Harrison.

"Who are you?" Harrison asked.

"We've had our eyes on you for a while now Harrison." The man answered.

"Who is we?" Harrison asks, conscious of his situation he stands up.

"We as in the people who pay for your medication. This apartment. Everything else on your bill."

"I thought my insurance covered that?"

The man chuckles. "Insurance!" He chuckles again. "We've monitored your recent jumps Harrison."

"What are you talking about?" Harrison asked.

"That little Happy place you go to. That's another plane of existence. A few people around the world have managed to go there but once in their lives but you......you somehow can jump there whenever you feel like it." The man scrapes the chair and sits.

"We want you to come with us." The man asks staring straight into Harrison's eyes and Harrison does the same. They stare at each other as If they are in a stare battle. Checkmate.