When I opened my eyes, I was back in the hospital room. The curtains were drawn and the ceiling lights were turned off, plunging the room in total darkness except for a few blinking lights of medical equipment at the fringes of my vision. Unlike the last time, it felt far more cold, like the world had frozen over and it was just a matter of time before I froze too. I looked down at my hands, expecting them to be coated in frost. Pale knuckles. The color melted away.
"What's the matter this time?" I asked aloud. It wasn't just my hands. It was like the dream was veiled in a noir film overlay, where the lights were brighter, but the shadows were hungrier, more vast. The lights of the medical equipment seemed all the more magnetic in the wake of the long yawning dark that threatened to consume the room whole. "It's so cold."
I was back in the dream. It seemed I thought right to assume that it would happen again. In all likeliness, she was probably searching for me right now. I had to find her before she found me, and force her to take the defensive. I knew what was coming this time, I won't be caught off guard again and allow her to throw me around like a ragdoll.
But just how was I going to stop her? Maybe she will listen to reason. I could tell last night that her heart wasn't in it and she held back from really letting me have it. Well, as much as hunting me around a hospital wing allowed one to "hold back".
There was no use in dragging my feet; it was time to jump on the offensive. On my bed, my notebook waited patiently. I rifled through it, only to find that the pages were blurred and intelligible. As I suspected: dream logic. The dream appeared to work like how I assumed it would, as a simulation of the unconscious mind, though obviously warped and stretched through a kaleidoscope of untethered imagination. I just don't know if that includes my imagination. Am I capable of navigating, or rather chartering this dream, or is that exclusively the domain of the girl--Dharia.
Then again, I acted like this was some supernatural phenomena. Something along the lines of science-fiction fantasy. No. This must be some hidden brawl inside myself, a psychological melee between myself and my past, something like what Dr. Crowe envisioned when he spoke with me. There was no other person here.
But what if I'm wrong?
Outside in the hallway, a light breeze carried the scent of sulfur downwind. Similarly, the hall stretched on under a thick layer of night, and nestled so without regard for anyone stumbling around in the dark. An air of unease washed over me. A serial killer stalked down that dark corridor, I was sure of it. It was prime real estate for an eighties slasher movie. I half-expected the shhhhhhhing! of a moon-lit butchers knife peeled around the bend.
I followed along, hand brushing against the side of the wall, providing stability in the dark. There was only one place I could go. The belly of the beast. It wasn't long until I found myself standing outside her door, breathing in the heavy pressure of anticipation and revulsion.
I slowly and deliberately pushed through into the room.
What was I even going to say? Hi! I know you want me to breathe a little less--and thank god you're here to help make that a reality--but I still kinda have a few things I wanted to accomplish first, like I don't know, living, figuring shit out, finding closure? Like, get in line lady; you aren't the first to try this sort of thing with me. I've been through worse. Closure, huh. That isn't actually a bad reason. I sighed to myself in the pitch black room, but I immediately cut the breath off prematurely. Did I forget where I was? Focus. There's danger up ahead.
As my eyes registered in the dark, I got a scary suspicion that I was in for a surprise; because as they adjusted to the new shadows and dimly lit curtains and beeping medical equipment, it became clear to me that I was not alone.
But she wasn't there either.
Someone new, a figure bathed in the afterglow of a dreamy layer of miasma, like a mirage. Unrecognizeable. He sat poised and proper in the satellite chair next to Dharia's cot, emptier than a vampire's coffin.
I certainly did not expect something like this to happen. I was ready to confront Dharia. A sickly and pitiful victim of a terrible accident, someone still reeling from the tragedy of one of the mysterious and inexplicable AAD's. I expected someone to empathize with, to connect with on common ground. He looked nothing like that.
A sharp black suit clung to his body like a fresh coat of scales on a viper. His eyes were like fangs that cut through the dark. Even if I couldn't see them, I could feel their very presence, feel them shaking in his mouth, preparing to launch out and lather my bones in venom. The guy was a walking nightmare.
"Monty~" he hissed. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Every part of me screamed to run the other way. But I was this far, I couldn't turn back now.
I squeaked out, "W--where is she? Where is Dharia?"
The man paused for a moment, drinking in my fear. He lapped at the distance between us.
"She's just enjoying her beauty sleep. Can't have her interrupting our conversation, can we?" His words hung above me, like a haughty, egoistic teacher under the impression he's above it all. He sat behind his desk, prattling on about something stupid. What should have been gnawing fear and shrinking confidence gradually mellowed out to become something more neutral. Is this him?
"You're the guy who forced Dharia to go through all this. Why?"
"So many questions," he lamented. "I was not aware of some details. Her rashness is a product of my thorough attempt at solving a problem before it can grow out of hand. Oh! For the debacle, I'm sure she'd be happy to apologize; if she was here, of course. You must forgive her." he shrugged. "Or not. It doesn't matter all that much."
Where was she? Either she's awake or somewhere else in the dream. Was there some way I could call out to her? Maybe, if she was in the dream. Regardless, this is my dream. I could do whatever the hell I wanted. What was this guy to me? Just some brainworm chewing on my insecurities. No, I won't let him have the upper hand, even if he was just a figment of my imagination.
"Honestly," I started, "I don't even care about that. You're annoying…and insignificant." The man smiled wider. "It's all just a matter of time before I dream up some big ass guns to blow you away. I hate to be the bearer of bad news." I held up two finger guns and aimed them at the man in the suit like twin six-shooters. A breeze brushed past like a spaghetti western. Someone, somewhere, whistled. "Or not. It doesn't really matter," I mocked. "But you're in my dream. Not hers. Not yours. Mine. And I've had worse nightmares than you."
A full moment's pause passed before the man drew his arms up in a slow clap. Methodical. Deliberately paced and quiet.
"Is that how you see me? A nightmare." His lips curled. "I guess that's fine. You're right in a way; I'm not entirely real."
"Figured."
"But that shouldn't put you at ease. I am still dangerous, even if I'm not really here--" As the words spilled out, little daggers pricked my skin. Sweat clung to my brow, dripping down my face, and suddenly my body was covered in it--broiled in it--as if my whole morning was spent wandering the desert, miles from any semblance of shade or cover with nothing to keep me cool. What the…The world seemed to expand outward infinitely and eternally until all I could see was the dark void of the dreamscape…hell. What the hell? What is going on? Shadows danced along the edge. I peered down at my feet and met the floor of the hospital wing. White tiles spread out all around me, as if the dimensionality of the room had been split apart into some kind of non-euclidean space. Almost like a box unfolded at the seams, and its edges stretched out beyond any point of visual recognition. I've never before felt this small and this alone and I was beginning to panic because of that dreadful knowledge, to know that what I felt and what I was about to experience could never be prepared for, no matter how many notes I memorized or books on physics I've read. It was beyond anything I've ever imagined before. I was an ant in an antfarm, oblivious to the wider world. No. This isn't an antfarm. It's a spider web.