captor ❀ daniel seavey [ON HOLD]

1 ; therapy

-potential trigger warning: bloody / graphic (teeth pulled out)-

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lucid dream
•loo-sid dree-m•
a dream state in which one is conscious enough to recognize that one is in the dream state and which stays in one's memory

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"do you consider this normal?"

i lean back, feeling the cold plastic of the seat i'm in come in contact with my back. a shiver runs down my back. i look outside the window, comparing the bustling city to the quiet office, and wishing i weren't stuck in here. i've been here too long. i let my head fall. "i don't know what i consider normal anymore."

i hear his pen scribble on his clipboard. i hear it stop. i can feel his eyes on me.

"why does anything have to be 'normal?' what even is 'normal,'who gets to dictate what's normal and what's not?"i look up, locking eyes with the concerned man. i was flustered, and i felt tears burn the back of my eyes. "these dreams..." i take a deep breath. "no. they're not normal. i control everything, know everything... feel. everything. and i remember it all vividly. other people forget soon after waking up - mine are burned into my memory. engraved into my mind as though i'm not allowed to forget - i don't deserve to forget. forgetting is a luxury i can't have." lucid dreams have haunted me from a young age. they started out just being very vivid visions, but at one point, my dreams seemed to get intensely violent. i once dreamt of being locked up by a mad scientist and used like a lab rat. the scientist killed me, waking me up, and when i told my parents they assumed something was wrong.

from then on i kept the dreams to myself. i didn't have many friends, had no one to share them with anyway, so it was easy not to talk about them. despite how simple it was to keep quiet, i had to learn to cope with the dreams myself, and they only became more violent. it tore me apart until i realized i could control the dreams - to an extent. i could control myself in the dreams, at least.

"alison?" the doctor says, interrupting my thoughts.

i look up, meeting the man's gaze once again.

"you didn't answer me."

"i'm sorry, dr. wilson. what'd you ask again?" i inquire, trying to remember him asking a question at all.

"i asked if you felt that these dreams were affecting your personal life."

i look away, not knowing how to answer. it's silent for a while, but i break it. "i think i'll go now."

"you don't want to finish the session?"

"have a nice day, dr. wilson," i say, exiting the building. i keep my head low, attempting to avoid recognition within the crowds of the city. it used to be easy to hide from the world, but now that my story's been shared, i'm known, and everyone has their set of questions and critiques.

"how do you lucid dream?"
"do you really feel what happens in your dreams?"
"if you were going to fake a story, at least make it believable."
"teach me how to experience dreams the way you do."
"how do you do it?"
"so you're the one begging for attention today?"

i'm not ostentatious. i don't crave attention. i don't fake my story. i can't explain what happens, or how it happens. all i can do is share my experiences, and that's what i did. with my small, small following, i had an audience, and i explained my occurences. one post led to an interview, an interview led to an article, an article to multiple articles requesting multiple interviews. i became known, people knew my face and my name. i didn't have fans or anything, and no one who knew my name cared about me whatsoever, but they'd do anything to find answers to 'how i do what i do.' i didn't mean for this to happen, and now i hide my face in the streets to avoid being noticed. i don't necessarily think i will be - it's a big city and i'm not genuinely famous or anything - but i take every precaution to avoid it.

when i arrive home, i prepare a meal and sit down in front of my television. i scroll through multiple channels before deciding that none of it interests me, and i grab my laptop. i planned to stream a movie, but i felt an urge, a longing, to check the activity on my post regarding my lucidity. i hesitate, knowing there's potential that it's blown up even more and i find more people making false accusations, but i ultimately fall victim to my desire.

as expected, i read a plethora of demeaning comments. i decide it's not worth the time, but before leaving, i check my direct messages, a particular message catching my eye. unable to resist, i open it.

alison,
i have read your story and am deeply intrigued. i want to start things off by saying i believe you. my name is daniel seavey, and i'm a scientist at a lab in north michigan. i'm doing a study on lucid dreamers, hoping to find a cure for the experience so as to no longer feel the sensations and avoid the emotional trauma developed within your dreams. you'll be given a place to stay and be taken care of, and it will pay well($500,000+). i have a few other subjects, so you can meet them and bond over the experience if you're interested.
please get back to me as soon as possible, i'd love to have you working with us!
dr. daniel j. seavey

i glance at the time, 6:43 PM, and then at the time this was sent, 3:12 PM. to me, this sounds interesting, and the potential of not having to deal with these dreams anymore overrides my brain. i quickly type a reply.

dr seavey,
thank you for considering me for your study. i'd be happy to help in any way that i can. however, i do not know how i will get to michigan, as i'm in washington and am without a car. if this is a problem, i understand, and i am still grateful i was considered.
thanks,
alison

after hours of binging shows and movies, i make my way to my bed, wishing i didn't have to. i dread sleep. i stall, using the bathroom and pacing around my room, but ultimately, i succumb to my exhaustion and lie down. my eyes refuse to close, but the longer i hold them open, the heavier they get. not being able to take it anymore, i let them fall shut, and sink into a deep sleep.

i jolt awake to an ear-piercing giggle erupting throughout the house. i look towards my shut door and watch as it begins to open. after seeing nothing behind the door, i stand, approaching it and peering down the hall. i make my way towards the kitchen, peeking in each door i pass. my heart is beating out of my chest. i reach the kitchen - empty. i begin to walk to the living room, but an abrupt grip appears on my right shoulder. i'm whipped around and greeted by a seemingly unfamiliar face. he grins, pulling out a pair of pliers. confused and concerned, i start to back away, but suddenly there's a wall behind my back where there used to be nothing. a hand around my neck, the man brings the pliers closer and closer to my mouth as the now dark grey and gloomy walls close in on us. i feel like my heart could literally burst at any second, and then he rips out one of my front teeth as blood trickles down my chin.

i wake up with tear stained cheeks and a blaring alarm clock, snapping me back to reality. another night, another nightmare.

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A/N
A SISTER DID 👏🏻THAT👏🏻 appreciate me
edit: I DIDNT UPDATE LOL I JUST FIXED OLD MISTAKES IN THE CHAPTER