Wake to Dream(9)

"Yes, Doctor."

Five steps across the room, three steps over the soft, patterned carpet. Four cushions. A white throw draped loosely over the armrest.

"That was quite a story you told me in our last session, Alice. What would you like to talk to me about today?"

She didn't remember sitting down, couldn't recall when the weight came off her feet, or when she crossed one leg over the other, tucking both beneath her.

"What?"

Her eyes sought out the doctor, his face concealed in shadow cast by the direction of the soft, ambient lighting in the room.

"You shared with me the dream you had about the owner of the house you were selling." He paused, tapping his pen against the pad of paper in his lap. Glancing up, he shook his head just barely.

"I have to admit I'm somewhat confused how the dream has anything to do with your sister...or your current emotional state."

Alice laughed. "Is that a nice way of calling me crazy?"

"No," he answered, his tone serious and devoid of the humor she'd attempted to interject into the conversation. "Are you feeling okay, Alice? You're more scattered than normal. I thought you were improving with the medication."

Alice was scattered, her thoughts like puzzle pieces tossed haphazardly about that would never again fit together. "The dream had everything to do with my sister," she argued, ignoring his attempt to draw the subject of their discussion away from the dreams. "Don't you see it, Doc? The phone call, and then -"

"Then what? The imagination is a finicky thing, Alice. I believe every mental process is tied together, conscious and subconscious. Perhaps if we can construct the pieces of your real life - if we can improve your waking memory - we can understand why your subconscious is flooding you with these images and ideas."

Twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her eyes locked on the skin turning white from lack of blood flow. "I like to think it's a psychic connection. Delilah is communicating with me. She's telling me what's happening to her."

With another tap of his pen, the doctor straightened his posture where he sat. His movement was sharp, dignified, but quiet so it wouldn’t startle her. He leaned forward until she looked at him, but somehow still managed to keep his face obscured by shadow. "Like twin communication? Is Delilah your twin?"

A simple shrug was followed by Alice's weak voice. "Might as well have been, we look just alike."

"Are you Delilah? Are you making up this sibling in your head to protect yourself from something that frightens you?"

Her eyes shot to his face, tracing the cut of his jaw before moving up in an effort to see the features concealed by the lack of bright light. "That's ridiculous."

"You've never told me about your family. Nothing substantive, at least. I have theories about what is most likely occurring with you. Tell me about your family, about events that happened before the day your sister disappeared."

Ignoring his request, she laughed. "Theories." The word fell from her lips with disbelief weaved into the two syllables. "I have theories, too. You just don't want to hear about them."

"You have dreams."

Her body tensed, the movement a full shudder that ran through her bones. "What makes your theories more important than my dreams?"

He paused, the silence between them birthing other sounds in the room. The ticking of a clock. The sound of dripping water from that damn bathroom faucet.

"My theories are based in science. Your dreams -"

Mimicking his earlier words, Alice argued, "Science is a finicky thing, Doc." When he didn't respond, she admitted, "and if I were Delilah, I wouldn't be here."

"Where would you be?"

"Trapped in that damn house. Where else?"

His voice was no longer soft or soothing when he asked, "Are you saying you believe the owner of the house you were selling has taken your sister? Do you honestly believe that your dreams are so accurate that you know where she can be found?"

"No," she confessed. Shaking her head, she slapped away the strands of hair that fell in front of her eyes. "That's not what I'm saying." Her voice trailed off, reality shifting again to a point where she didn't know how much time had passed since she'd last spoken.

Breathing out a sigh, she acknowledged his accusations. "If you don't believe I have a sister, you can check the news. Her name was everywhere at one point in time."

"At what time?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

Two more taps of his pen and he relaxed against his seat, his attention fixed on her.

The tick of the clock filled the silence. The faucet continued to drip.

"If I listen to your dream this afternoon, do I have your agreement that you'll listen to my theories during our next session?"

She wasn't sure she could make that agreement. She never knew when the fog of confusion would swallow her whole. But what other choice did she have? She needed to understand the dreams, and the doctor was her only hope.

"I agree," she managed to lie.

A simple nod of his head. With his pen poised over paper to record and dissect the lurid details, the doctor gave her his rapt attention, waiting to explore her hidden and prophetic world.