Insane. That's it. He must think I've lost my mind. He needed to believe that last night was my first breakthrough since the dreams began three months ago.
Dr. Maerd was always so cold and calculating. I knew he didn't care about my problems. I knew he would rather medicate me into an eternal numbness until I didn't care about my problems either. He would never give me a second passed 6 P.M., even if it meant a breakthrough for me. As soon as our hour was up, his notepad would shut and he would have an appointment reminder written out and thrusted in my face.
I let myself relax into his hard leather couch, letting the room disappear into the background as I receded into my mind. I needed to recall every detail about last night.
There's nothing here, but something.
I began.
"It always begins with a clock. It has three birds etched in its surface, and gold hands. It's the only thing I see, and I cannot look away. It ticks at a normal pace. It's always at 9:58, and as the big hand starts to makes its way around its numbers, it slows. It slows down, until each second could be mistaken for an eternity. And then... it... just... stops."
I was so wrapped up trying to remember every detail of last night's dream that I was startled when I heard Dr. Maerd's deep voice resonate in the silence. It was always so unemotional, like an echoed copy of his real voice.
"Stops?"
"Yes. Like it never moved at all."
"At what time does it stop on?"
I hesitated and let the words claw their way from my clenched throat.
"9:59. The time that Kristian had his accident."
For a moment, the sound of Dr. Maerd's pencil scratching against his notepad fills the air. But, it did nothing to mute the thoughts that whirled around inside of my mind. I tried to sort them out into some sort of sensible idea, something that he would understand.
"When the clock strikes, I turn around and I'm in a hallway. In this dream and all the others, the pallette is only shades of gray. It's like color doesn't exist in that world. The hall is completely white and the light shines gray. And then, at the end of the hallway, a figure in gray and black stands there, looking at me. He sees me looking at him."
More scratching from the pencil upon the notepad.
"Go on," Dr. Maerd said.
I hesitated, feeling the old fear from the night before. I took a wavering breath.
"I begin to run. I'm running. Sprinting. I'm trying to get to this man, I know he knows where my Kristian is. But it's like I'm running in place. No matter how hard I push myself, I can't break free. It's how this dream always goes."
"I see. Yes, I do recall you saying that in our previous sessions. You begin to feel claustrophobic, like there are hands around your neck. The scene fades to gray then black and you awaken, with a start."
I clenched my eyes tightly. I didn't want the image of last night's dream to sift through my fingers like sand. It was like the memory would blow away if I opened my eyes, and I would never be able to tell Dr. Maerd why last night was so hauntingly different.
"No," I said. The word was so much louder than the words I had spoken. Dr. Maerd stopped jotting. The last scratch of his pencil seemed to echo.
