Wake to Dream(12)

"Not the same. Not safe. Not..." She breathed in deeply when the splash of red was gone, her body jolting when the doctor's hands touched her shoulders.

"Sit down. Place your head between your knees and breathe."

Guiding her into the position he wanted, the doctor knelt by her side, his knees cracking as he bent his legs. "I didn't know the features of the room were so important to you, Alice. I apologize for the change. I wouldn't have done it if I'd known.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, the warm liquid cooling as it traced the path of her jaw. The salt taste on her lips made her cringe. The loss of control was startling, like falling back and losing whatever progress she'd made, if she'd made any at all.

"It's the only thing I remember. The room. The furniture. I can't recall anything beyond that, but I know it's where I'm supposed to be."

Sitting up, she locked her eyes to his. "I don't know why."

"Nothing. You remember nothing." Not exactly a question, but a statement of disbelief. "Do you know why you're here?"

Moving to his chair, the doctor took his usual place within shadow, the ambient light in the room highlighting the pad of paper he pulled from a side table to his lap. Cerulean blue plastic flashed beneath the light, the movement of his pen drawing Alice's focus until she became fixated.

"Alice?"

Pulled from her fascination, she lifted her head. "To remember the dreams. To find my sister."

"Do you remember the agreement we made at our last session?"

"He keeps asking me if I understand," she answered, evading his question. "I'm sure that means something. I know he's hinting that I'm on the right track."

The doctor breathed out heavily. "That wasn't my question."

Frustrated by the disappointment in his tone, Alice blurted out every excuse she knew for her behavior. "I only remember the room. I know I'm supposed to be here. It's the only way I can save her. But the walls, the door, the couch - that damn faucet - it's all I have, it lets me know where I'm supposed to -"

"Alice, stop." His voice was stern, his words shushing her as quickly as if he'd clapped his hand over her mouth. She paused, her breath hitching in her chest.

"I need you to focus when you're in this room. I need you to listen intently to the questions I ask." It was a verbal slap softened by a delicate and neutral voice.

Nodding her head, Alice dragged in a steadying breath. "I can focus," she promised more to herself than to him. "Losing control won't save Delilah, will it?"

He didn't answer immediately, instead he allowed the ticking clock in the room to count down the seconds before he would eventually break the silence. "No, Alice. Losing control won't help you save anybody."

Another beat of silence passed.

"The agreement we made at our last session was that I would listen to your dream if you would listen to my theories regarding your dreams at this session."

Alice looked up and sought his eyes within the shadows. "Theories. Yes, Doctor. I'll listen to your theories."

"Except, that's not what I want to discuss today. I hope you don't mind."

His sheepish tone pulled a smile from Alice's lips. "What would you like to discuss?"

"Your dream," he chuckled. "Specifically, the last one. We'll save my theories for our next session, but for now, I want to clarify some of the details you've given me."

All she could do was nod her head once.

"You've insisted that these dreams are a means of communication, that your sister is somehow telling you what's happening to her. And yet, the symbols, the characters and events, seem oddly out of place."

"How so?"

Tapping his pen against the pad of paper in his lap, the doctor didn't answer immediately. Alice knew he was in his head, searching and examining whatever information he'd determined wasn't in keeping with the purpose she knew her dreams carried.

A single tap more and his head snapped up, his eyes hidden behind the typical veil of shadow that consumed them. "Let's start with Max. From what you've told me, he was a man you met while selling your first house. He's been the main character, or symbol, in your dreams, yet you don't believe he is the same person who abducted your sister or contributed in some other way to her disappearance."

Alice retreated inward, searching and scrounging until she'd found the bleak memories he questioned. His recitation confused her. He'd blended her waking life with dreams. "I think that's correct. Yes. That must be what I told you."

"Why him? What significance does he have that ties him so intimately to your dreams?"

The tic in her neck returned, her body curling in on itself, tucking her tightly against the cushions as if the soft cage might protect her from her fears. Time passed slowly, or quickly, she wasn't sure which.

The wall clock ticked. The faucet dripped from an adjacent room.

Conflicting images flashed in her mind, a jumpy film reel that hadn't been tended so that the movement skipped from one scene to the next. When the answers came to her, she stilled in her seat, the explanation revealing itself and momentarily easing her confusion.

"He was there when I got the phone call. Perhaps I somehow linked the two? If dreams are a way for the mind to record memory, and if those two events - the call and my meeting Max - occurred at the same time, is it possible that the details became intertwined as my mind processed them in sleep?"