Page 3 of Dreamscape Therapies

Closer.

I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking move as he raises the hook over his head.

Finally, I find something inside of me, some last scrap of strength, and throw myself sideways.

I hit the floor hard as cold air tears into my lungs. I scramble backward, staring into the dark bedroom around me.

There’s no killer, no yarn, and no television. Just my bed and the faint glow of streetlights through my blinds.

It was a nightmare. Just another fucking nightmare.

I fold forward, pressing my forehead against my knees, and count.

One.

Two.

Three.

I count until my breaths even out.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

I make it to one hundred and then start over.

By the third time, my lungs finally, thankfully, stop fighting against me.

I’m so tired. I’m talking bone-deep exhausted. The kind of tired that makes your body ache. The kind of tired that makes you wonder how much longer you can keep going.

These nightmares have plagued me every night for weeks now. Always so much fucking yarn. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in so long that I’m starting to wonder if I’m losing my mind.

Eventually I force myself upright and stumble into the bathroom on shaky legs. I turn the shower on and step directly beneath the icy spray without waiting for it to heat up.

I gasp, the cold hurting, but relish the feel of something real.

I stand there until my heart settles and my breathing evens out, then shut off the water and dry myself.

I wrap the towel around my waist and head to the kitchen, shivering from the water still dripping down my body. I open the junk drawer and start digging through pens, old batteries, and takeout menus to find what I’m looking for.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine gave me a business card. At the time, I’d laughed at him. I mean, who needs a therapist for nightmares, for the gods’ sake? I’d told him to stop being an idiot and poured him another beer.

Apparently, I’m the idiot, because these nightmares are still plaguing me weeks later.

I dig deeper until my fingers finally catch on a piece of cardstock.

The card is bent at one corner, but otherwise it’s fine.

Dr. Jay Kim, PhD

Professional Sandman

Specializing in Sleep Therapy

(555)263-3431