Darkview Nightmares
Jenna knew she was dreaming because she was afraid. Her doctor, Doctor Skye, had explained it to her very kindly, that she needed to let go of her latent fear, if she wanted to be happy. That she needed to stop struggling, and her mind would let go of her nightmares.
But the acrid tang of fear wasn’t something so simple, so rational. She couldn’t stop her feet from running, but only deciding whether to turn left or right.
There. There was a stairwell. She entered and ran up several flights. Her legs trembled with fatigue, as if she never used them.
Did she really want to go up anyway?
The windowless hallway of the building gave her no clue as to if she were aboveground or below. The halls were silent, except for her own stuttering footsteps and her heavy panting. The stairwell had no markings, as to which floor she was on, and the doors were locked, with no room numbers.
Then she heard footsteps behind her.
“We found Jennifer,” a woman said.
“Get read. She is at Echo Alpha Vixen,” another woman said.
They always sent a team after her when she tried to escape in these nightmares. She had a vague sense that the hospital was situated on a tropical island, though she couldn’t know if this was a dream-knowing or if it was something she had picked up about this hospital, in which she trapped her own mind.
Then there was a woman in a white suit with a face mask and plastic glasses in front of her. Her eyes were a clear light blue, like Jenna’s. The woman stuck a needle into her arm.
It hurt, like a deep ache, but Jenna welcomed it, because it meant the end of her nightmare. She had always known she would never escape, and part of her knew this was more of a game, a competition, to see how long she could outrun herself before she caught herself.
In the next moment, she felt nothing, and saw the stairwell tilt around her.
Jenna woke up with a yelp.
She had been dreaming, though she could never remember what she dreamed about. The sheen of sweat told her that it had been exciting, though, perhaps too exciting.
Now that she was awake, she listened for a bit. The refrigerator hummed and the occasional car passed outside, but it was mostly silent.
She felt the winter air filter through the window and chill her skin. She reached for the heavy blankets, which were mostly underneath her, and pulled and tugged on it until it covered her again. Then, she burrowed down in her bed to hide from the cold and attempt to go back to sleep.
Jenna was back at the maze of hallways. No decorations. No labels. No windows.
She walked quietly, this time, careful to not draw any attention. She tried every single door she walked past, and eventually one opened.
Inside, she found a windowless room. She was beginning to think that she was underground. Bright halogen lights lit every pristine surface: the four walls, the floor, and the ceiling. A woman occupied one chair. The other one was empty. When the woman gestured to the other chair, Jenna felt compelled to sit down. Her heart pounded away in her chest.
It was her nightmare, after all. It wasn’t like there was any real danger, except for unearthing trauma.
“Dr. Skye,” she said, not having recognized the woman in the white lab coat and clear blue eyes until Jenna reached for her name. “Why do I keep having this nightmare?”
The doctor looked thoughtful. She pulled out a small notebook and a pen from her coat pocket. After flipping through a few pages, she replied, “If I’m in your nightmare, I’m a figment of your imagination. How do you expect me to answer your question?”
Jenna shrugged. “Maybe you represent the subconscious part of me that’s supposed to know.”
Dr. Skye nodded. “As I’ve told you before, the nightmares are not healthy. You need to let go.”
“I’m not fighting now, am I?” Jenna gestured to their room. Her feet tapped the linoleum floor.
“But you’re also not calm, not accepting. Your mind keeps on coming back here,” Dr. Skye said. Dream Dr. Skye sounded just like real Dr. Skye, and neither of them told her how she was supposed to accomplish this.
“It’s frightening,” Jenna confessed. She didn’t think she’d ever confessed this, in dreamscape or reality. “It’s not like I want to come back here. I’m asking you how.”
“Simply stop reaching for this place,” Dr. Skye told her. Then, “I think it’s time for your treatment.”
Time dilated, as they did in dreams, as Jenna watched Dr. Skye stick the familiar tranquilizing needle in her arm. Then blessed, sweet, peaceful darkness.
Fridays were quiet days. Jenna liked lazing about and simply soaking in the comfort of home: the familiar smells, the cozy sights, the simple sounds.
The neighbors’ kids came home after school loudly. Then, Jenna’s friend and roommate, Abby, would return home. Abby’s footsteps were heavy and the her keys always clanged loudly before she turned the lock.
They spoke few words to each other and usually just enjoyed the companionable silence. Abby often brought a book to read while they simply snuggled, or they watched something together on TV.
They also always went for a walk around the neighborhood almost every evening. Jenna liked walks around the neighborhood, and simply looking at the people, but Abby usually preferred the park. Since Abby was usually quite insistent, and Jenna was polite, she often let Abby have her way.
Then, they would go home before dark. Abby would make dinner for the both of them.
And soon it would be night again.
Jenna felt her palms get clammy as she took a sharp painful breath, waking up fully. She had been sitting in a chair-like contraption, full of probes and sensors. The room had bare walls and no windows.
It was the hospital, of course. It was always the damnable hospital.
She wondered if she ever had dreams elsewhere, but she couldn’t know. She couldn’t even know if her remembered nightmares were actual memories, or memories fabricated along with this nightmare.
Dr. Skye was there, with three other doctors, all in the same uniform of white lab coats. The doctor asked, “How are you feeling?”
Jenna stared at them slightly puzzled. She tried to form words with her mouth, but it was hard. Finally she said, “I don’t like the hospital.”
“Of course not,” Dr. Skye answered soothingly. “But you need our help to get better. Do you remember?”
Jenna tried to, but she could only get pieces. “Trauma. Gotta let go.”
Dr. Skye nodded. “Very good. Now, remember, let go.”
There was no tranquilizer this time. No aching pain of release. Jenna willed herself to no longer be in the hospital, no longer be anywhere, and then she simply wasn’t.
Saturdays were good days. Abby stayed home all day on Saturdays.
Truth be told, Jenna missed her friend during the weekdays. In fact, she wouldn’t keep track of the days of the week at all, except that Abby was home on the weekends and gone during the week.
Abby made breakfast for them both. Then, they hung out in silence at the table. Abby read the news on her tablet, while Jenna simply considered the universe. There was a lot to consider, and the threads seemed to unravel and tear away, but her mind tried to grasp onto them anyway.
“Well, how about let’s take a walk?” Abby asked.
That was a surprise. They didn’t usually take walks in the morning. Still, Jenna loved walks, so she gave her enthusiastic agreement and soon they were out the door.
Jenna looked around.
It was the hospital, but she wasn’t frightened. Still, she didn’t like the unfamiliar sights and smells. She missed Abby.
“How are you doing?” Dr. Skye asked her.
Jenna looked up from where she sat on the floor. Dr. Skye was leaning over her, her clear blue eyes seemed full of concern.
Jenna wiggled her butt and whined a bit.
Dr. Skye patted her on the head. Then, she left the room briefly.
Jenna thought she heard familiar footsteps at the door, though she had no idea how Abby might be here, in this unfamiliar place. The door opened then, and Dr. Skye and Abby indeed walked through the door.
Jenna leapt to give her friend a hug. She took several deep breath to convince herself that it was indeed Abby, and only calmed down when Abby started caressing her head.
“Abby, Abby, Abby,” she cried excitedly, though her words sounded strange to her.
“What a good puppy,” Abby said, and Jenna felt a wave of happiness at this compliment. Abby patted Jenna on her bare rump. “Yes, good puppy.”
Dr. Skye spoke to Abby then. “Darkview Corrections Facility offers two year maintenance for free, and of course we recommend that you bring her in for a check up every year for the rest of her life.”
Abby nodded. “Not a problem. This is wonderful.” She turned to Jenna, “Shall we go home?”
“Home, home, home!” Jenna echoed with happiness.
Abby smiled her beautiful smile at Jenna. Then, Abby picked up the leather leash and led Jenna back home, where there be plenty of naps and walks.