Insomnia

Chapter 23: The Watcher

It surprised me when the rippling sensation came and I slid into Dr. Freeburg's dream. I wasn't sure how long I'd been in my dreamless void, but apparently he was more of a night owl than I'd given him credit for. 

The dream enveloped me and sounded like muffled air in motion, like a wind tunnel in an enclosed space. My nose filled with the odor of musky cologne failing to cover the smell of sweat. The slightly burnt scent of a car heater at full blast wafted over me. I was sitting in the back seat of Dr. Freeburg's car. He was parked, but I couldn't tell where because everything outside the car swirled in a white fog. I'd seen this before. It simply meant Dr. Freeburg's focus was elsewhere, so outside the car didn't matter. 

The layers of the dream seemed to float through the fog like ghosts blurring in and out of the world around us: a shadow of an older woman discussing her finances, a young boy playing in a tree in a huge backyard. 

In the front seat, Dr. Freeburg fiddled with his bow tie. He clipped it on, unclipped it, adjusted it, and clipped it again several times before he reached up and smoothed the sides of his hair back. Finally, with a nod, he opened the door and stepped out. 

As his focus moved, I was jerked to a new spot outside of the car. We were parked in front of my school. I looked around in confusion. Every detail was exact, even down to a blackened dead spot on the grass to the left of the main doors. A kid in my chemistry class had mixed the wrong ingredients during the first week of school and picked that spot to dispose of his mistake. 

My jaw clenched reflexively. This much detail had to be at least part memory, but the haze meant some of it was fantasy. The spot on the lawn proved he'd been to the school during this school year, and often enough for his mind to remember small details. 

When I turned to the front steps and saw Mia jogging down them in a skirt shorter than any I'd ever seen her wear, I realized where the fantasy part was coming into play. I wondered what would happen if I punched a Dreamer inside their dream. 

"Hello, Dr. Freeburg," she said with a flirtatious grin. "I'm ready for my appointment." 

Okay, well, at least it wasn't a memory. I seriously doubted Mia ever acted like that with her therapist. Or with anyone really. 

Dr. Freeburg nodded and cleared his throat with a stupid grin that made me want to puke. "My car is right over there." 

The drive to his office took twice as long as normal. The sicko therapist couldn't keep his leering eyes off of her. Every time he moved the stick shift his hand grazed her thigh and she giggled. The car felt unbearably hot and my vision twisted, leaving the whole world skewed. I couldn't watch him live out his fantasies on Mia. 

Without even thinking, I reached out for where his seat belt connected to the side of the car. I blinked twice when I realized I was pulling on it with all my weight, trying to strangle him. I released my grip, feeling ill. Dr. Freeburg coughed once, but seemed otherwise unaffected. 

I stared down at my hands in my lap. The red stripes from my grip on the seat belt faded. What was I trying to do? Kill him with an aspect of his own dream? Was that even possible? Did the idea of him taking advantage of Mia in a simple fantasy affect me that much? 

What scared me more was the hunger I felt burning inside. A desperate curiosity. A desire to see if it was possible. The darkness within me wanted to know more—wanted to know if I could physically hurt someone inside of their dreams. 

I shivered and pushed the disturbing craving aside with as much force as I could manage. 

We pulled into the parking lot and I reluctantly followed them into the building. Dr. Freeburg let Mia go up the stairs first. As she climbed, he stared at the back of her toned legs with unsuppressed desire. I couldn't even look at them. She had seriously nice legs, but the idea of having the same thoughts in my head as the therapist made me want to jump off a cliff. 

His office was on the right. The room reeked of stale coffee and lavender from one of those plug-in air fresheners. The walls were painted in blue and gray tones, and a wide window overlooked the park on the other side of the parking lot. An enormous black leather chair sat across from a gray suede couch. 

Mia immediately reclined on the couch with a seductive smile. But the doctor simply took a seat in his chair and she closed her eyes. For the next few minutes he talked in low, soothing tones, and she relaxed into a hypnotic state. Except for her ridiculously short skirt, I imagined this was exactly what happened when he used hypnosis during her regular therapy sessions. 

I hadn't been expecting this. In the quiet, I listened to the cars passing on the street outside, feeling guilty for thinking of hurting him. The dream had become even clearer since he began the hypnosis. It had to be mostly memory now—too much detail for most fantasies. But which parts were fantasy? Besides Mia's ridiculous outfit, it was hard to tell. 

I took in a deep breath and released it along with the tension in my body. This was even better than I'd expected. Maybe I could see aspects from her recent therapy sessions. Maybe I could learn more about the e-mails. 

A small squeak interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see Dr. Freeburg quietly pulling an ottoman from the corner to a spot next to the couch. He took a seat and I watched him place one hand on her ankle and run it slowly up her leg. 

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air. I backed into his desk, searching for an escape. I wished I could open the window and jump out. A broken leg would've been worth it if it meant getting out of this dream. 

No, not a dream. This still felt like a memory. 

Mia's small trusting voice spilled secrets about missing her parents, feeling all alone, her foster family. All while his hands scurried like rats along her body. Mia flinched, and I heard his soothing voice telling her everything would be okay. There was nothing to be afraid of. She could trust him, and she would feel better after they were done. He would make sure she felt much better and happier—satisfied. 

My breath came in shallow gasps. Dr. Freeburg had to be the one sending those e-mails to Mia—he had to be. But why would he frame me? His memory was blurred with my reality, and I couldn't think of anything else. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't watch anymore. I had to stop him. 

My hands grasped around on the desk for something, for anything that could change what was happening. They closed around a small paperweight. It felt right in my hands, solid, like it had always belonged there. Fury drove me forward. 

He was the monster, and I would end him. 

I swung without thought, connecting with the doctor's head again and again before I glanced up at Mia. She was curled into a ball at the corner of the couch. Her shoulders trembled as she stared at me, the doctor's blood splashed in a rainbow of red droplets across her white shirt. I wasn't even sure how many times I'd hit him; it was like everything around me had frozen . . . everything but the rage boiling inside me. 

Then Dr. Freeburg fell forward off the ottoman, and I was thrust out of his dream.

~~~~~Author Insights~~~~~

This is a real turning point for Parker and for his abilities. He has touched a Dreamer, interacted with a Dreamer, but can he hurt a Dreamer? Can he kill someone inside their dream? This takes things to a whole new level. As the author, there were a lot of ethical dilemmas that I had to think about and consider with Parker's ability. When are people more vulnerable than when they are asleep? There are few times when someone is so completely undefended, and Parker is just beginning to believe he may have more control and responsibility for the Dreamers he visits than he ever could have anticipated. At the same time, he is losing control of himself. This chapter is a real pivot in the story and I really enjoyed writing it.